Shadow over Riddleport

Game Master Joana

"One gold coin for the bracelet and another as a deposit on the puzzle box?"

Nodding Phillip replies "Agreed and done... one week in time I have purchased and will see you again before it is up." putting one gold coin on the counter next to the bracelet... and then laying part of a longer gambit.

Very carefully he shows the second coin, hesitates and then picks up the puzzle box "I could think of nowhere safer" and placing the coin within the secret compartment with a flourish - before swiftly closing the compartment. He then hands the box back to Hassan with an earnest smile.

"Then there's the Overlord, of course, Gaston Cromarcky. He and his capp Avery Slyeg live on Maskyr's Island in the middle of the Velashu. He's an old pirate captain, and Slyeg was his first mate. They mostly deal with the ships and the harbor."

"Everyone else who's anybody lives here in Leeward," she goes on, turning east into the mercantile district, "and I can show you around it this morning."

"Hmmm. Trade seems to drive the wealth here to a greater exent than it does in Magnimar, which explains the Overlord. He controls the trade and the wealth that comes from it, and therefore continues to wield the greatest power and influence in the city."

"Improving the docks in such a manner that trade is improved, with the Overlord taking a cut? Road improvement?" Tendal mutters, as they walk down the street. I am assuming that most of the city streets are fairly narrow, have some unfortunate curves/twists and are rarely paved. Riddleport always seems more organic and new, vs. Magnimar and Korvasa's more formal designs.

[b]"I think that you are right to discount those to Windward Liry. Old wealth is typically very conservative. They sit in their little nests and miserly manage every last coin. They will have little interest in a new venture."

"Happy Birthday. How old are you?" asks Braddon eyeing the girl appreciatively.

"Look, Oliver Bott brought you in here and we discovered him taking advantage of you and chased him off. Because it's your birthday, we're going to let you go. But it has to be done secretly, or we'll get in even more trouble with Oliver. We'll get a carriage to take you home."
Braddon turns to Daynadrian and tosses him 2 gold coins. "Dayn, fetch a carriage and a mask and a blindfold from upstairs."
Braddon turn back to Ananda. "Now, where's your home, and who's your father? Whoever he is, Oliver isn't scared of him. Oliver is under Shorafa's protection."

"Sixteen," she answers, squinting her eyes against the sunlight coming through the window. "What about that antidote? My head is throbbing. I live in Windward District, and my father is Anton Mescher. You really didn't know that? Why would Shorafa Pamodae kidnap me? She knows who my father is."

Nodding Phillip replies "Agreed and done... one week in time I have purchased and will see you again before it is up." putting one gold coin on the counter next to the bracelet... and then laying part of a longer gambit.

Very carefully he shows the second coin, hesitates and then picks up the puzzle box "I could think of nowhere safer" and placing the coin within the secret compartment with a flourish - before swiftly closing the compartment. He then hands the box back to Hassan with an earnest smile.

The shopkeep watches Phillip's gesture with the coin and the box with a touch of surprise. "Very well, my friend," he replies, giving the box a shake to hear the coin rattling within before setting it on a shelf below the counter. "Shall I wrap your lady's gift for safe travel?"

"Hmmm. Trade seems to drive the wealth here to a greater exent than it does in Magnimar, which explains the Overlord. He controls the trade and the wealth that comes from it, and therefore continues to wield the greatest power and influence in the city."

"The casinos, too," she reminds him. "Cromarcky built all of Free-Coin. Technically, I work for the Overlord, although I've never actually seen him. There's been a harbor in Riddleport forever and the mages' guild about as long and the dwarves in the Gas Forges, but it was Gaston Cromarcky added an entertainment district." She seems proud to be a part of the newest industry in town.

She leads him north past the large, round Mystery of the Gate, then zags east and north again on a narrow alley between buildings. "That's the House of the Silken Veil, Shorafa's place," she nods to a massive building three stories high that quickly comes into view over the top of more modest intervening structures. It's painted in yellow and black and appears to have a rooftop garden. "Shorafa Pamodae, tiefling priestess of Calistria. After Cromarcky and maybe Tammerhawk, she's the most powerful person in Riddleport. Runs the girls, of course, and settles disputes for people; her word's law when it comes to dealing out punishments. They say it was thanks to her Old Stumpy got his nickname." She glances at Tendal curiously, apparently wondering if he's heard the story of Saul's downfall. "They have a lovely public bath in the basement, along with, well, other things you can pay for," she shrugs with a smirk.

Continuing past the temple, she leads him into the cleft of the eastern ridgeline of the city, where the buildings lining the street march straight up to the rocky escarpment and then stop. While not as dilapidated as the River District, this particular corner of the city seems less prosperous and decorative than the rest of Leeward: the flower boxes and freshly-painted shutters give way to bare brick walls and barred windows. "Coming into Boss Croat's part of town now," Liry murmurs to Tendal, walking a little closer. "Nothing to worry about, as long as you don't owe anyone money. He's a fat old toad of a half-orc; handles 'protection' money and debt collection. His boys hire out as security, like at the Goblin last night." She smiles and nods at some muscular half-orcs on the street corner who look at her suspiciously and squeezes Tendal's arm to do the same. "We'll just go far enough to see his compound. There: that triangular place up against the cul-de-sac." Tendal can see a military-style complex surrounded by a high brick wall before she swings around and starts to head south again. "Jasker Gant's his capp, basically runs the place now that Croat's gone all to wrinkles and lard."

I am assuming that most of the city streets are fairly narrow, have some unfortunate curves/twists and are rarely paved. Riddleport always seems more organic and new, vs. Magnimar and Korvasa's more formal designs.

Excellent assumption. Free-Coin and Windward are cobblestoned, as are the square around the well and some of the main streets in Leeward (albeit with weeds growing between), but a lot of the traffic is just along beaten dirt paths between buildings. It's very haphazard, as there was no city planning committee or zoning commission to plan the town out. The mix of architectural styles is quite eclectic as well.

As Liry leads Tendal away from Boss Croat's compound, a voice suddenly calls out from behind. "It's Magnimar! Hey, Magnimar!" Gord, the Gold Goblin's erstwhile doorman, has just emerged from a doorway with a few compatriots and waves at Tendal enthusiastically. "It's that guy I was telling you about," he turns to his friends, "Magnimar Deverin, Stumpy's new capp. Hey, Magnimar, say something funny!"

"Sixteen," she answers, squinting her eyes against the sunlight coming through the window. "What about that antidote? My head is throbbing. I live in Windward District, and my father is Anton Mescher. You really didn't know that? Why would Shorafa Pamodae kidnap me? She knows who my father is."

Braddon heads over to the window and glances outside, then closes the shutters to block any view.

"No need for wrapping the bracelet Hassan, I will manage without the adornment... Thankyou, and see you soon" giving a short bow as he collects the bracelet and slips it into a pocket before departing.

Once outside, Phillip gauges the passage of the sun and wagers he has some time yet before his appointment and decides to poke around the arena a while - to see if there were any fights of note in the days ahead.

Dayn catches the coins but merely arches an eyebrow at the orders from the not-quite-sane-seeming half-elf. His frown, in place since arriving in the room, only continues to deepen with every word out of Braddon and the girl's mouths. Finally having more than enough he loudly clears his throat and interrupts "Bra..nack! A word, if you please!"

And stepping back out into the hallway but positioning himself so as to still be able to see the girl he whispers angrily "I was willing to back your play at first, but just what in the bloody hells are you thinking man?! Why not just tell her the truth! All these lies are bound to collapse on themselves and bite us in the ass at some point. We've done nothing wrong here and surely this girl's father will be happy to have her home safe. And before we do anything, we should consult Saul, chances are he knows this man and will likely know why the girl was brought here. From the elaborateness of her story, I'm quite sure she wasn't brought here by accident."

Phillip crosses the street to the arena and strolls around the outside, examining the larger-than-life-sized broadsides. Most depict two humanoid figures eviscerating each other as depicted by someone with a somewhat unhealthy obsession with interior anatomy; in others, two exotic beasts tear each other apart; and in some, a gladiator faces off against a monster, the humanoid invariably getting the worse of the battle. In one, a man is being torn apart by the lobster-like claws of some sort of oversized crustacean; in another, a gladiator is being overrun by dog-sized cockroaches; in a third, a pair of kicking humanoid legs protrude from the fang-lined mouth of an elongated man-sized fish-creature.

Following the outer wall, Phil eventually comes to an entrance, barred halfway through by an iron portcullis; handbills pasted up on the interior of the archway advertise gladiatorial contests on Fireday afternoons and Starday mornings, without promising any specific match-ups. As Phillip stands reading the posters, a man strolls past the opposite side of the portcullis. A human with a bald head, he outdoes, in sheer muscle mass, even Saul's bodyguard Bojasc, but he nods to the halfling in a friendly enough manner.

"From the elaborateness of her story, I'm quite sure she wasn't brought here by accident."

Braddon's voice becomes low and urgent. "No, she wasn't brought here by accident. Oliver drugged her, and brought her here to set us up. We return her to her father now, but if she learns where we are or who we're really working for, her father has someone concrete to blame for her abduction. We send her back, blindfolded and drunk, and all she has are our names and Oliver's. And Daddy doesn't know our names yet, so he'll go after Oliver. I doubt she was chosen for her father's ability to be reasonable about the sudden absence of his teenage daughter." Braddon drags a finger quickly across his throat.

Raising a hand and smile Phillip calls to the muscled one "Hail there... Anything special planned for this week?" voice earnest to a degree.

Wonderful.

"Gord! I am surprised to see you up and about so early. I would have expected after the fun at the Goblin that you would be busy telling folks about how you had beaten down so many of the impostor Hellknights and getting free drinks at the bars." Tendal makes a show of squinting at the building behind Gord.

"Unless that was a tavern?"

"In any regard, we decided to take a nice morning constitutional. Take in the airs, see the sights. Will we see you at the Golden Goblin tonight again?" he asks.

"You're not open tonight," Liry breathes in Tendal's ear. "No one's allowed to compete with the Overlord's casinos during their operating hours. You can't even pay for a sit-down dinner after dark outside of Free-Coin."

Gord peers over his shoulder. "This? Nah, this is just sleeping quarters. Wish we lived in a tavern; we'd never see the light of day again, eh, Dav?" he elbows his neighbor and laughs boisterously. "Told you he was funny. What sights you seeing, Magnimar? You been in the House of Silken Veils? There's some sights worth seeing in there, if you've got the coin," he grins.

Looking annoyed at the interruption, Liry clears her throat. "We'd better get going; I have to pick up Dungo's cage from the metalsmith before long." She tugs gently at Tendal's arm while giving Gord an irritated glance.

Gord guffaws. "Course, why pay to look at a cow when you can milk one for free, eh, Magnimar? We'll come back by the Gold Goblin. Wanna see if you've got a new dining table, right?" He laughs again. "C'mon, guys." With a friendly wave at Tendal, the half-orcs turn and go their own way toward Croat's compound.

Liry pulls Tendal away to the south, her face slightly red and her step almost uncomfortably quickened, until they've put a few blocks between themselves and Gord. "Half-orcs, right?" she shrugs with a weak laugh.

She leads Tendal across a rather amorphous open courtyard with a well in its center, undoubtedly the original center of town when this section of Riddleport was first springing up. The businesses around its edges are well-kept and respectable-looking, including a gentleman's clothier, if they were initially lax about keeping the "square" square. Leading him out again along a street heading east, she says in a low tone, "Up ahead is Cleg Zincher's tenement."

The building is a rather bare rectangle, its long front facing the approach and a door set right in the middle. A knot of about a half a dozen men are congregated outside, circled around a barrel and rolling dice on its surface. One of these men is wearing a rather elaborate helmet with a bristled crest and a set of banded mail; a matching heavy steel shield is leaning against the wall beside him as he watches the game with interest.

Liry stops on the opposite corner of the street. "That's Old Korvosa, Zincher's capp. He's an arrogant bastard and none too smart, but he's murder with that sword. I'd rather not meet him; Dungo insulted him at ghoulette once, and I thought he was going to draw steel on me. Luckily, the Gendarmes were there to escort him out and keep him from making a scene." She glances expectantly at Tendal, eager to leave before the man called Old Korvosa notices her presence.

Raising a hand and smile Phillip calls to the muscled one "Hail there... Anything special planned for this week?" voice earnest to a degree.

The man approaches and leans against the other side of the portcullis, peering through the bars at Phillip. "Got the standard fare on Fireday: some of our stable up against some of Croat's boys; nothing to the death except by accident. Starday will probably see some of the menagerie in the ring, maybe some prisoners from Shoreleave putting their lives on the line for a chance at the boss ransoming them if they impress him enough. Liable to get bloody. Depends on how many get locked up this week and how desperate they are to get out again." He grins. His voice is deep but measured and rather gentle for one so large.

Tipping his imaginary hat, then with a wistful air "If I were but fout feet taller and far more muscled I would likely be inspired to join in the bloodshed... but alas I am but a limp-wristed half pint so I'll needs enjoy it vicariously." pausing for a moment to see if his self-depricatory approach was welcomed favorably by the man before continuing "Might I know your name? - I would not want to miss the opportunity to see you at work."

The man's impassive face is hard to read as he looks up and down Phillip's admittedly limited stature. "Name's Akron Erix," he responds. "We've had Small folk in the ring before. Sailors and gladiators from Cheliax. Draws a good gate. People like to root for the underdog -- or against." He grins again. "I'm not a fighter. I'm the manager."

Touching hand to chest Phillip responds "Phillip Hargreaves... and I don't doubt some of my kin can fight... just not myself." slicking back his hair compulsively with his left hand "You mentioned Croat's stable as the men your boys are going to bloody up on Fireday? I'm new to Riddleport so I don't know the lay yet... is it just the two stables in town?"

Knowledge (Local): take 10 for 15, or 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14 if I have to roll. Can Phillip identify which Quah Akron is from?

"For sport, yes," he replies. "Anyone can fight, if they've got a score to settle. High-profile duel's a sure sell-out. But only the boss and Croat keep their own stables. They fight for money and bragging rights. Mostly friendly. Not to the death, like I said. Hard not to kill an orc sometimes; they stay on their feet when they should be lying down waiting for the stretcher," he grins. "But we've lost a few too, gone from hale and hearty to cloven in two when they haven't stepped out of the way of an axe quick enough."

Thoughts of varied intent are running through Phillip's head at present. The two stables linked to the two big men in town... it'll be worth getting acquainted. If they're in need of muscle I've no doubt the fighters would be as happy to spill blood out of the arena as in... have to be cautious though, if there was a need for freelance work. Only two stables means the big men are likely pretty possessive about their talent. Would need to pick the right man, not just the best.

Sharing Akron's easy grin at the thought of a man cleft shoulder to waist by a cleaving weapon more suited to splitting wood than flesh Phillip suppresses his slight revusion at the thought. "No doubt, but then again no point matching blades unless theres at least some risk right? I'll look forward to the fights, thanks for your time Akron Erix. May your spirit guide you." giving a short bow and using a traditional Shoanti farewell phrase.

Phillip makes a spectacle of almost turning to leave before pausing and asking one last reluctant question "Say, would it be possible to see your guys training one day? Feel free to tell me no, but I've always had an interest in the noble science and I'd be more than happy to spring for a couple of rounds afterwards by way of thanks?" smiling hopefully as he awaits a response.

Liry pulls Tendal away to the south, her face slightly red and her step almost uncomfortably quickened, until they've put a few blocks between themselves and Gord. "Half-orcs, right?" she shrugs with a weak laugh.

Tendal is near rigid with fury as Liry leads him away. How dare they! And in my presence no less! I will have to deal with this later.

Yay! Tendal's temper!

Tendal comes to a stop and turns to Liry. He is quiet for a moment, as he forces his hand to release the death grip on his cane then gathers his thoughts up. He begins in a voice akin to a low growl, "While I understand that you are a woman who can handle your own business, I find that I must apologize for the behavior of Gord. He disrespected you through implication and disrespected me through assumption. I will discuss this with him some time later."

"Please let your mind be at ease, that I do not take anything that Gord says or implies as anything but the grumbling of a lout."

Then, for a moment, Tendal smiles like a noble: heart, thoughts and desires locked away. He then continues more brightly, "Now, the sun is shining, and we still have some of the town to explore. Let's be off!"

Liry leads Tendal across a rather amorphous open courtyard with a well in its center, undoubtedly the original center of town when this section of Riddleport was first springing up. The businesses around its edges are well-kept and respectable-looking, including a gentleman's clothier, if they were initially lax about keeping the "square" square. Leading him out again along a street heading east, she says in a low tone, "Up ahead is Cleg Zincher's tenement."

The building is a rather bare rectangle, its long front facing the approach and a door set right in the middle. A knot of about a half a dozen men are congregated outside, circled around a barrel and rolling dice on its surface. One of these men is wearing a rather elaborate helmet with a bristled crest and a set of banded mail; a matching heavy steel shield is leaning against the wall beside him as he watches the game with interest.

Liry stops on the opposite corner of the street. "That's Old Korvosa, Zincher's capp. He's an arrogant bastard and none too smart, but he's murder with that sword. I'd rather not meet him; Dungo insulted him at ghoulette once, and I thought he was going to draw steel on me. Luckily, the Gendarmes were there to escort him out and keep him from making a scene." She glances expectantly at Tendal, eager to leave before the man called Old Korvosa notices her presence.

Tendal nods at Liry, indicating that he is ready to proceed away from the swordmaster.

"Thank you," Malkith says to the horse trader. With Samaritha's arm still tucked under his, he starts off towards some of the more established buildings.

"I hope you don't mind playing the part of my betrothed," Malkith whispers as they walk, "It was the first thing that came to mind." He quickly adds, "I though it would garner us some sympathy. I mean, to help get someone to open up to us. Not that, that is to say..." his voice trails off, silently thankful to approach one of the more permanent structures in Lubbertown.

To start making some more inquiries about Volo, with Samaritha's assistance:
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 7 + 2 = 16

"Ez, ez dut ulertzen," Samaritha whispers back quickly. "Esan nahi dut... ezin duzu zure arreba zehazki esan izan dut, norbaitek nabaritu...," she gives a little extra tug to the scarf covering the tips of her ears.

Once Daynadrian has done whatever he intends to do about Braddon's request... Thuvalia emerges from her room, wearing the chain shirt she wore for her perfomance last night but with the painted-on eye of Aroden removed from its surface. She yawns, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Come on," she urges, "let's go retrieve my things before some of those thieves up in Lubbertown notice no one's been back for them yet."

She leads the elf out of the Gold Goblin and north, the same direction you chased her down last night. As they pass through Devil's Fork and by the stark prison known as Shoreleave, she shies away from the forbidding facade and nearer to Dayn walking beside her; her fingers brush his hand and then tangle into his without her saying a word or looking up to meet his eyes.

Arriving outside the city gate in the ramshackle collection of caravans and cabins, she gives him a half-smile. "Let me do the talking, eh? You be the strong, silent type." Keeping her hand in his, she navigates through the camp to a set of caravan wagons set up on blocks rather than wheels and arranged in a rough semi-circle; one wagon in the middle bears a sign lettered in Varisian: "Alokairua gelak."

As she heads toward one of the wagons on the periphery, a middle-aged woman peers her head out of a window in the central wagon and squawks, "Oi! Dama dotorea! Non da nire dirua?"

"Galdetu Volo! Ko duten konpromisoa ordaindu behar da," Thuvalia shouts back, without stopping.

"Zure etzanda mutil-laguna da me ezkutatzen! Ez dut uste, ez dakit bere jokoa. Bidaltzen zituen, eta ez dut, beraz, aurkitu zion. Duzun batetik, nire dirua izan dut edo lokatzetan gaur gauean lo egin ahal izango duzu," the woman screeches back.

"Lasaitzeko zeure buruari, emakume zaharra," she replies contemptuously. "Dut zure bagoi zaharretan lo egiten. Gizon berri bat, aberatsagoa Volo baino me mantentzeko daukat. Nire zati bat ordaindu behar dut, eta zure dirua hartu ahal izango duzu Volo bere haragia neurrian naiz dagokionez." Thuvalia hops up onto the running board of the wagon and puts a key in the door. "I told her you were rich," she murmurs to Daynadrian. "Should keep her busy trying to get Volo's debts out of you while I'm retrieving our things." She ducks into the wagon while the landlady boils out of her own door toward Daynadrian, jabbering in excited Varisian.

"Say, would it be possible to see your guys training one day? Feel free to tell me no, but I've always had an interest in the noble science and I'd be more than happy to spring for a couple of rounds afterwards by way of thanks?" smiling hopefully as he awaits a response.

"Have to clear it with the boss," Akron calls back. "You'd have to convince him you weren't looking to sell inside information to Croat."

Procuring a scarf for a blindfold and a mask proves to be no problem for Braddon; the costume closet upstairs is well-stocked enough for that. A carriage proves more problematic; clarification proves that Windward District is across the river from the Gold Goblin, and that they will have to find a way across by boat to return Ananda to her home.

May I presume you intend to take the ferry as you did when Liry brought you guys across to the Gold Goblin yesterday?

Liry leads Tendal away from Zincher's tenement with no less relief than she led him away from Gord and his innuendo. Arriving once again in the square with the well, she nods back the way they came. "You take that road on past Zincher's place, you'll find yourself on the road out of town to the east. Past the ridge is the Boneyard Cut; out there's where the town garbage is carted, what doesn't get tossed in the river or the harbor, anyway. Ziphras and his gang live out there; they're the ratcatchers. They collect a few coins from every business every week for catching the rats and taking them out of town. They probably bring the same rats back into town too, for job security." She smirks.

Samaritha and Malkith investigate several buildings offering rooms to let without running across any that recognize Volo's name or general description. They are getting a bit weary when they suddenly recognize Daynadrian standing in a semicircle of old wagons set up on blocks getting harangued by a middle-aged Varisian woman....

"Have to clear it with the boss," Akron calls back. "You'd have to convince him you weren't looking to sell inside information to Croat."

"Of course... I'll drop by tomorrow?" wanting to confirm before moving on to his luncheon.

Phil then slowly makes his way through Riddleport to his lunch-time appointment - aiming to get to the shop just as Ethel's break starts.

"Hautazko," Malkith mutters, drawing Samaritha's attention to Daynadrian, "inozoak elf hori ekarri behar Thuvalia hemen." He approaches carefully, keeping an eye open for the Varisian harpy while trying to listen to tongue-lashing Daynadrian is receiving. As he listens to the very audible old woman, Malkith rests against one of the wagons and smiles. "Banshee da Dayn erabiltzen jarraitu dirudi. Esku hartzeko behar dugu uste al duzu?"

"Well." Tendal says smiling, "I didn't think that the tour would be quite so complete. If I find myself carted off to the dump for some reason, I will have to thank you for telling me how to get back to town. Or should I just follow the rats as they scurry back?" Tendal says with a quick laugh.

"Are we close to your metalsmith? You mentioned having to pick up the ghoulette head, would you like to do that now?", he asks as they start back towards the main part of town.

Braddon is only too happy to let Daynadrian deal with the Banshee while he attends to Ananda. He gives her a nip of the strongest alcohol he can find behind the bar as an antidote. Then, with a blindfold to cover her eyes and a mask to cover her face, he leads her to a waiting carriage and has the driver take them round Riddleport. He gets the lay of some areas while throwing off Ananda's bearings and chats politely with his guest, asking where the best entertainments are about town, and what there is for youths to do to occupy themselves. When he realises they must cross the river, he has them deposited in a quiet alley near the ferry and pays the driver. Once the carriage departs, he removes Ananda's mask and blindfold, and walks her to the ferry.
"I'll accompany you home. If anyone asks, I'm your private bodyguard. Once we get you safely to your place, I'll take off. I don't fancy being tortured and interrogated by your father. If he has any problems about your disappearance, he can take them up with Oliver Bott. If he wants to reward me, he can leave some money at the Publican House. But I'm not taking the fall for Ol. I hope next time we meet, it's under more pleasant circumstances."

Braddon is only too happy to let Daynadrian deal with the Banshee while he attends to Ananda. He gives her a nip of the strongest alcohol he can find behind the bar as an antidote.

Ananda sniffs the cup and grimaces; sipping the alcohol inside produces a shudder and an even worse face. "Eugh! Are you sure this is the antidote and not the poison?" Once she has managed to swallow the finger of liquor, she is in no state to protest the blindfold and mask Braddon produces.

Riddleport is small enough and ill-paved enough and bifurcated-by-a-river enough that even the reasonably-well-off of Leeward District embrace the pedestrian lifestyle. Still, there are occasions when bad weather or poor health necessitate conveyance. After what seems an unconscionable delay to the cosmopolitan half-elf, a curious-looking Varisian man with a large mustache drives into the courtyard of the Gold Goblin on the box of an antiquated coach drawn by a single horse. Inside, the carriage seems, from the general smell and a few stray feathers, to have been recently used as a dovecote, but it does the job of concealing the young woman in masquerade from prying eyes.

Braddon's interrogation of his carriage-mate proves less than revelatory. "I-- I don't really know what people do for entertainment," she stammers, grasping the edge of her seat to keep from sliding around on the slick leather. "There are the Overlord's casinos in Free-Coin, but Father doesn't think they're appropriate for me to patronize. And there's, well, the brothel, of course, but obviously I'm not allowed to go there, either. I hear Cleg Zincher runs an arena with fights on the weekends, but Father says they're too violent and attract a bad crowd. I've been to a few lectures at the Mystery of the Gate," she offers. "They're educational."

Once they've driven down every street in Leeward District two or three times, Braddon directs the cabby to take them to the ferry and pays the fare out of the Gold Goblin's petty cash fund. Stuffing the scarf in his pocket and the mask into his pack, he takes Ananda's hand and leads the girl, looking none the better for her blind journey inside the smelly carriage, to the dock. As they approach, the ferryman must have seen them from his window, because he comes out the door of his little cottage to meet them. "Going across?" he asks. "Oi, I met you yesterday," he greets Braddon. "You were with Liry and a bunch of other newcomers." He notices Ananda's pale face and unsteady gait. "She all right?"

"Are we close to your metalsmith? You mentioned having to pick up the ghoulette head, would you like to do that now?", he asks as they start back towards the main part of town.

"The...? Oh! no, that's way in River District," Liry replies, blushing a little in confusion. "You saw that yesterday. It's probably not really ready yet. Or if it is, it can wait. I don't actually need it until nearer sunset. You haven't seen the Gas Forges yet, or Zincher's arena, if you're interested. That would take us back toward the Gold Goblin. Or I could show you where I live."

Samaritha looks both amused at Daynadrian's predicament and slightly guilty for feeling amused. "Non dago zuen orduan?" she asks, looking around for Thuvalia. "Ez duzu uste ahaztuak Dayn arreta eta aukera urruntzen irristaka eta harremanetan Sczarni hartu?" Her amusement fades into an expression of concern.

"I've been to a few lectures at the Mystery of the Gate," she offers. "They're educational."

Braddon inclines his head. "Well, if you're interested in studying magic and the cyphergate, I've got a friend working there who may be able to put in a good word for you."

He notices Ananda's pale face and unsteady gait. "She all right?"

Braddon rolls his eyes and glares at the ferryman. "She'll be fine once we get her home. She had a very exciting time last night, no thanks to Mr Bott. Does he use this ferry or does he have his own private means of crossing the river? Do you have any mates upstream that might have seen this lady cross last night?"

The ferry operator frowns. "What's Oliver been up to then? He rarely goes to the other side of the Velashu, unless he's got friends down at the wharves that take him back and forth without my knowing about it. D'you cross the river last night, sweetheart?" He peers at Ananda's face as he helps her down onto the flat boat. "Here, I remember you. You crossed last night with a group of girls that had been at the Publican House. Paid the fare for all of them. Looked like you were having a grand time. What happened to your friends?"

Braddon answers for her. "Turns out they weren't her friends. Probably Shorafa's girls, though whether she's aware Oliver is abducting young girls, I dunno."

"Shorafa wouldn't sanction that," Grimas replies immediately, in a tone that brooks no doubts. "And Oliver ought to know it. Doesn't really sound like his style, either, although I wouldn't swear he wouldn't do it. I think he does things sometimes just for the experience of having done them. Shorafa's girls?" he squints into the sky thoughtfully, as he starts to punt the ferry across the river. "Suppose they could have been. I'm not as familiar with Shorafa's girls as I used to be in my younger, more single days," he offers Braddon a wink. "I imagine she has a whole new generation under her wing by now."

Braddon smiles good naturedly at his wink, then frowns. "Well, if Shorafa isn't authorising it, then Oliver's getting some strange ideas. He's had this young girl drugged and abducted, taken advantage of her, then fled as soon as he got caught. Without Shorafa's protection, Anton Mescher will have his head."

"Mescher? What's he got to do with it?" the ferryman asks. "Can't see him causing trouble for Shorafa just over Oliver's latest antics; she generally polices her own."

The directions provided by Ethel the night before are sufficient to direct Phillip to a respectable but somewhat weathered shop a few alleyways off the district common. The buildings here are smaller and more huddled together than on the main road. A somewhat faded sign over the door primly advertises "Ladies' Attire and Necessities" in peeling gilt letters. The front windows are clean but foggy in the corners, etched with age and the salt in the air. Folded decorative screens block sight into the shop's interior; on one side, the bodice of a serviceable but not particularly attractive garment is arranged over a generously-proportioned dressmaker's dummy.

Phil has only had time to begin to consider whether he should advance to the door when a high-pitched yapping begins from within the shop. Only moments later, Ethel pushes the door open. "Taking my lunch now, madam," she calls over the ear-piercing barking of the unseen small dog; as the door closes behind her, the yapping is blessedly muted once more. Ethel is dressed more modestly than she was at the casino, looking rather like a buttoned-up schoolgirl. She gives Phillip an uneasy look, crossing the footpath to him quickly and taking his arm to lead him away from the shop windows. "I heard about the trouble at the Gold Goblin last night, that some people died," she whispers nervously. "That wasn't ... your business, was it?"

"Mescher? What's he got to do with it?" the ferryman asks. "Can't see him causing trouble for Shorafa just over Oliver's latest antics; she generally polices her own."

Braddon taps his nose knowingly, pays the man for their passage, and proceeds to return Ananda to her abode, fleeing the scene once she's safely returned, to head back to Shorafa's.

"I am at your tender mercies, please, lead away. The forges, arena and then off to where you live. Each sounds interesting in its own unique way." Tendal says with an easy smile.

Ethel is dressed more modestly than she was at the casino, looking rather like a buttoned-up schoolgirl. She gives Phillip an uneasy look, crossing the footpath to him quickly and taking his arm to lead him away from the shop windows. "I heard about the trouble at the Gold Goblin last night, that some people died," she whispers nervously. "That wasn't ... your business, was it?"

Phillip allows himself a slight smile at Ethel's apparel before allowing himself to be led away from her place of work. Once slightly out of eyeline, he stops and takes her hand in his "I was neither on the blood-letting or blood-giving end of the festivities... though I was there. It seems that some people tried to rob the place... and their attempt was put down with force." pausing to allow for the realization that indeed it could have happened to Phil... and potentially her by extension given the reason that he was at the Gold Goblin the night earlier.

Taking her hand and giving a formal little bow he kisses her knuckles as though she were a lady before adding "But my manners escape me, good afternoon Miss Braum." smirking as he tucks her hand back into the crook of his arm so that he might escort her onwards "Might I suggest we retire to our luncheon? - after all the time that I am blessed with your presence is but painfully short."