The door to Ananda's former residence is locked. Braddon heads around the end of the rowhouse. Bushy evergreen shrubs along the iron railing both provide privacy to the residents on their terraces and obstruct the harbor view for outsiders. Through the shrubbery and fence, Braddon can see that at least the nearest residents are, in fact, out in their small yards, apparently with invited guests, watching the activity down in the harbor.
----------------------------
Phillip and Snake ascend the staircase back to the temple's lobby. Esmeralda gives them no more than a disinterested glance.
Smoothing his moustache out after being re-garbed Phil smirks gently, responding to Serpe "Just remember that this is all her domain... and whilst inviting, carries a sting" looking to forestall discussion of the what next until they were safely released from the building's clutches.
The tall man gives a nod as he scans the area a bit warily as they take their leave.
"Not over the fence, Braddon, we've another option.". Gristav says, walking to the first of the doors and tapping gently with the foot of his staff, near the base of the door, turning to smile at Braddon as he did so. "Her memory of you will be a growling one. I hope her memory of me includes telling me where her office was..."
Moving outside the temple's walls Phil mentions as an aside "Well... cleansed in body if not in mind... have you any errands you'd like to run yourself? - if not then perhaps we should return to the Goblin with kahve under one arm and sustenance under the other?"
Shaking his head, "Yeah I got nothing. Returning to the goblin works for me. And I could use a bite to eat." He then stops and looks to be in deep thought for a moment. "I'm not sure I can actually remember the last time I ate," he confesses. After giving it a bit more thought, "Anyway, let's go."
Braddon shrugs and follows Gristav.
"Aren't we going to see Sam?" he asks, proving that at least one very selective part of his memory can work quite well.
"Surely. We'll come back. Maybe. Appears the manageress is at large, perhaps among the tenantry. We can hardly search. Uphill, then? The lodge proper, I would think."
Phil flits the layout of Riddleport through his recent memory and plots a course that will allow them to achieve both of the stated goals, before setting off.
Phillip and Snake head back to the Gold Goblin via Flask & Stubb's and Leeward Common.
-----------------------
Gristav's knock at the door of the manageress of the Harbor View elicits no response; perhaps Mistress Darragh is, like her tenants, out on the back terrace watching the activity down in the harbor. Abandoning the attempt, he and Braddon backtrack to the road that leads to the Cypherlodge, the ungainly structure sprawled along the very edge of the cliff, monopolizing its own view of the Varisian Gulf. There is no activity visible here; the prospect from this side of the ridge features only the open gulf, not the devastation and recovery effort in the harbor.
Conversationally on the walk to Flask & Stubbs, Phil takes a vegetable peeler to Serpe's measured stoic silence "So... strong coffee alright with you? We could get something with a few less hairs on it or even some kind of flowery tea? Probably should have a soother for the evening to balance the fire-fuel from the morning. Would your companion care for a nibble on some nuts?"
Looking at the halfling with a raised eyebrow at the mention of 'flowery tea', "Coffee's fine. Yeah Luck wouldn't mind a few nuts. Or several. That one has never had an issue with food." At the mention of such, the mongoose pops out of the back of the tall man's pack and climbs down his leg with ease, running around and sniffing at various things upon the ground as if looking for said nuts. Shaking his head as a rare grin - albeit a slight one - forms, "See?"
Phillip is pensive thoughtful a mote before crouching and bringing himself relatively close to Lucky's eyeline... regarding the mongoose as though in search of a more than animal intelligence. He then rises and muses lyrical "He strikes me as in need of peanuts..." before continuing upon their path.
"Hm. Careful, Raccoon, you're playing with fire. Spoil him like that and you might make a friend for life," says the warlock, a light chuckle escaping him.
As they walk, "I'm curious, Raccoon, what's got you involved in all this? I know Braddon wants revenge against this 'Lil' character for the death of his grandmother or whatever, and Gristav... never mind. I never know what in the Nine Hells Gristav wants. And that's even when he tells us. I'm sure the Suit has some type of 'upstanding and proper' reasoning. But what about you? What kind of hand have you been dealt that keeps you from walking away from the table?"
Phillip turns to regard Serpe as his question is asked, a sparkle in the corner of his eye and smirk upon his lips. An honest account is then held forth "There is no hand dealt worth keeping, lest it is the hand you deal yourself. My interest is the grandest and humblest of them all... and that is opportunity."
"I first stepped onto the floor of the Goblin as a petty pickpocket, when a fracas broke out at the end of the evening my first thought went to gathering what chips had been abandoned... Saul mistook my malingering for competence and hired me on. Since then my eye has been bent to profit and opportunity." pausing a few moments before ending in a declaration "The opportunity I see at present is ending this chapter as part-owner of the Goblin, rather than employee"
Nodding in complete understanding, "'Opportunity'. That's perfect. One's loss is another's gain. Your timing couldn't be better, bub. With the fat man out of the picture and half the town nearly destroyed, I gotta say... this hand is too good to not go all in on. Either that or it's one helluva bluff." The tall man can't help but shake his head at how everything seems to be falling into place for the halfling. "Perfect," he repeats, impressed by it all. He then puts to thought the enemies Saul has made. "The only real catch would be how to deal with Saul's enemies. That would be the trick," he says, stroking his bearded chin in thought.
Chuckling "Not just Saul's enemies..." recalling that both the Whore Queen and Rat King will have cause for umbrage with the halfling. Reaching into a pocket he retrieves a copper and sets it to dance across his fingers and shrugging "We live in the now and see which way the river twists and turns... survive the day and then look to enjoy the night."
"Well, Braddon, we've no cause to knock on the Cypherlodge doors, so back to the fork, then the Visitor's Center? I've no desire to pay them for eyefuls, but we might learn the cost, at least."
His eyes cutting toward the coin before returning to the path ahead, "Yeah I guess that's all we can do really. It's that 'surviving the day' part that tends to get tricky sometimes," he concludes. "But I guess that's what also makes things interesting. I guess it's either that or we could be stuck in our room making scrolls all day like the Suit." He reaches up to scratch his cheek a moment in thought before, "Alright, Raccoon, you win. Surviving the day and enjoying the night's a much better plan. Fortunately for me, I kept the crazy wager out of it this time," he says with a wry grin.
"Visitor's centre. Right."
Braddon nods absently, eyes on the roads and people about him.
Gristav and Braddon turn their backs on the Cypherlodge and retrace their steps back to the main road, which they follow to the very edge of the cliff, where the crag drops off to the sea below. They then turn left onto a footpath concealed almost until they came upon it that leads steeply down again. As they descend, they are occasionally splashed with a salt spray when the waves crash against the rock at just the right angle.
At the foot of the hill, a well-heeled crowd mills impatiently around outside the front door of a serviceable stone building at the end of the path. Behind the building one can just catch an obstructed view of the Cyphergate rising into the air above the harbor like a petrified rainbow.
-----------------------------
Phillip and Snake arrive back at the Gold Goblin, with comestibles.
"If we press on, we might see Sam, but it wouldn't be a _visit_. Let's just learn from the crowd what the rate is, then do our maths back toward town or the Harbor View. I loathe monopolies, and winding down the General's lease with a paying parade of the well-off seems a gift to all involved. It was even sort of Arnando's idea, so some could go to his efforts... "
Arriving back to the Gold Goblin with both food an prospective drink, Phillip makes a beeline first for the kitchen - stoking fire and setting some water to boil that could then be turned to kahve. The food is left haphazard and piled at one side of the room, the halfling's focus clearly on liquid refreshment before solid would be perused.
When the kahve is nearing completion he calls through the echoing confines of the Goblin for Magnimar and their other esteemed guest to join him.
Braddon shrugs.
"I'd be okay with seeing Sam. As long as we know she's okay. We can visit later, I guess."
Saul arrives in the kitchen, drawn as much by the smell of the coffee as by the halfling's call. "Ah, that'll hit the spot," he sighs, taking a hot mug in hand. "I don't suppose you picked up a tipple of anything stronger?" he asks hopefully. "Just a shot for a little pick-me up. Bojasc cleaned out my liquor cabinet."
Gristav and Braddon jostle forward in the crowd, drawing glares on all sides, until they can read the sign by the door: "Cyphergate Visitors' Center, 5 sp admission." The numeral is neatly scribed on a square of parchment tacked over the original sign.
"It would be rude of us to actually jump the line. I'd hate to earn the glares we've had for free, nor wait the length, at the line's pace. I'll do the running, and if you want to wait in line for the view we both desire, I'll do it alone. I hope to return and need to yell to you of a better deal..." Gristav smiled at Braddon, the magus already returning against the pressure of the line. "Come along, at least to a fair place to join the queue?"
Phil shakes his head at Saul's query "Unfortunately not, we set our focus only on those things that could sharpen the mind and fuel the body... rather than those that numb the horrors." breaking words for a few moments to draw in a draught of mind-sharpening fluid himself.
"So... 'midst ramblings when we pulled you from the cage you made mention that Zincher might have a hand in wanting recompense or vengeance... I lost the lay of it with what followed, but how does he factor in again?"
Saul shrugs a bit nervously. "Bojasc reckoned he'd pay a bounty to have me in hand, secretly: a bit of payback for Orik killing his brother. I don't know if he'd broached a deal with Cleg yet. Gods, if he had, I'd love to see his face when he got back and found me gone. Promised Cleg a treat and then unable to deliver: that's not a position to relish being in."
Mentally filing away the information for later Phillip continues "Opportunistic then rather than a burning desire... small pleasures." smirking wanly.
"Come along, at least to a fair place to join the queue?"
Braddon rolls his eyes and makes his way to the back of the queue.
"Once I'm done here," he informs his companion, "I'll meet you back at the Goblin."Braddon waits patiently. He examines his fingers. Flexes his muscles. Stretches his arms. Watches Gristav's back retreating out of sight. He looks towards the Gold Goblin then takes another look at the line in front of him.
"I hate waiting."
Gristav jogs back to the Harbor View and applies himself again to Mistress Darragh's door, to no more effect than previously. Either she is out or she is determined not to answer.
"Business Hours, indeed.", Gristav huffs at the unimpressed portal. He practices his palavers at Bolbo while returning to Braddon, lamenting the lost largess of the failed connection in Tien and Silve, Thassil and Dwarrow...
Braddon waits impatiently in the line at the Visitor's Center. After a bit, a door on the opposite side of the small stone building opens, and a disgruntled looking group of citizens files out and up a separate footpath leading back toward the top of the cliff. A moment later, the door at which the queue is waiting opens, and a buff-robed young wizard announces, "Next group, please. No more than ten at a time, thank you."
The citizens at the front of the line hurry into the building, and the attendant shuts the door behind them. Counting the number of people still in front of him, Braddon figures that he will be in the next group admitted.
--------------
Gristav rushes back down the pathway toward where he left Braddon, only to find that a half-dozen more people have joined the queue since he left. They glower at him as he attempts to move past them.
"Please don't glower at me.", Gristav requests lightly. "You might want to ask them...", he says, wanding his staff to indicate the disgruntled departees. "...what they're disgruntled about. Before you spend your money. Odd they're not put out here, where that conversation would happen naturally. I just want to say all that, to him."
Gris nods and smiles, and moves to speak to Braddon.
"No knowing if she's there, but they would remember that hair, and it's surely not her they're scowling about. I'm going to go ask what the problem is. And maybe, if they saw her. This deal seems bad enough I can always come take it, but that's truth over there, walking away. Come with, if you like?"
Gris waits just a moment, then goes to be wherever the disgruntles will exit Cypherlodge control.
Gristav shoves once more past the new arrivals who, appeased to see him leaving again rather than cutting the line, nevertheless feel obligated to glare at him for consistency's sake. It is not immediately clear from the top of the entrance footpath where the exit one leads, but, after a moment of scanning, Gristav recognizes a few of the recent departees on the uncrowded road ahead.
Braddon turns from Gristav to the door before the queue and back again. He starts to count the people, loses track, and starts again.
He shakes his head.
"I'll check anyway. Patience is a... it's a thing."
Braddon nods and turns back to the queue.
"Patience is a virtue, Braddon. And a Grace. And to speak of... if she IS there, don't speak of me. I think she'd rather forget me. And I'd rather be forgotten than regretted."
Bolbo aboard, Gris approaches the path of the pinch-browed departees, gambiting, "The nerve, eh? Treating folk like that. And paid good money..."
Bolbo aboard, Gris approaches the path of the pinch-browed departees, gambiting, "The nerve, eh? Treating folk like that. And paid good money..."
"Absolutely!" an stout older man replies. "No respecting of people at all! Ratcheting up the price like that, and then letting so many through at a time they're all breathing down a fellow's neck! And then just about the time one has jostled and shoved one's way to where one can get a good look at the harbor, it's all 'Time's up! Clear out for the next group!' And who are the next group anyway, I'd like to know. Most likely someone's servants off gadding about wasting their employers' time and money. Rabble! Don't they know who I am? Oh, not those pimply-faced would-be spell-slingers Tammerhawk's got shaking the collection tin, they don't! I wouldn't employ them to charm a rat out of a hole. The Cypherlodge has gone downhill ever since Egelbert Harington retired. They used to be good neighbors!"
"Darling," the woman with him murmurs, shooting an anxious look at the peaks of the Cypherlodge just visible above the rooftops of the intervening buildings, "please, mind your tone."
"I will not mind my tone," he harrumphs, shaking her restraining hand off his arm. "I'm not afraid of that greasy-haired upstart. I no longer wonder that Lynley Chatham decamped to Magnimar for the summer; I shall only wonder if he ever comes back. The tone of the entire neighborhood is decaying. A home in Windward used to mean something!"
Tendal put away the completed scroll with a sigh, stretched and eyed the two meager bottles of wine on the shelf. Perhaps for another time, there is still work ahead of us. he thought, then left his room looking for some sort of refreshment, locking the door behind himself.
Hearing voices from the kitchen, Tendal moved forward cautiously, his cane readied, then hearing familiar voices, he straightened, straightened his doublet and moved into the warmth of the room.
"Good day Phillip. How is the city, and were you successful in your endeavors?" he started, then caught a whiff of a potent comestable.
"You managed to procure kahve? You sir are a worker of minor miracles. I hope there is still enough for a mug?" he asked hopefully.
The halfling beams a smile, holding his arms wide as he responds "Indeed, contact was made and person cleansed... and as you indicate" with a tip of his cup "Kahve obtained" motioning for Tendal to secure for himself a similar draught of the restorative beverage.
"As for the city, it has a sense of uneasy calm... like a bloated corpse ripe for splitting. Even the house of whores was relatively bereft."
Bolbo aboard, Gris approaches the path of the pinch-browed departees, gambiting, "The nerve, eh? Treating folk like that. And paid good money...""Absolutely!" an stout older man replies. "No respecting of people at all! Ratcheting up the price like that, and then letting so many through at a time they're all breathing down a fellow's neck! And then just about the time one has jostled and shoved one's way to where one can get a good look at the harbor, it's all 'Time's up! Clear out for the next group!' And who are the next group anyway, I'd like to know. Most likely someone's servants off gadding about wasting their employers' time and money. Rabble! Don't they know who I am? Oh, not those pimply-faced would-be spell-slingers Tammerhawk's got shaking the collection tin, they don't! I wouldn't employ them to charm a rat out of a hole. The Cypherlodge has gone downhill ever since Egelbert Harington retired. They used to be good neighbors!"
"Darling," the woman with him murmurs, shooting an anxious look at the peaks of the Cypherlodge just visible above the rooftops of the intervening buildings, "please, mind your tone."
"I will not mind my tone," he harrumphs, shaking her restraining hand off his arm. "I'm not afraid of that greasy-haired upstart. I no longer wonder that Lynley Chatham decamped to Magnimar for the summer; I shall only wonder if he ever comes back. The tone of the entire neighborhood is decaying. A home in Windward used to mean something!"
"I'm sorry", Gristav apologizes to the lady, sincere in his regret of her discomfort. "I didn't mean to guide into brambles. Perhaps a happier topic?" Looking between the two, he asks brightly, "Since you know Windward well, might I ask your opinion, of the Harbor View Apartments? Most of my business has had me in this town only transiently, but that might have changed. Oh! I'm sorry, again. I was raised better. I am Gristav, a mage of some skill. Unaffiliated.", he adds at the last, gesturing toward the peeking peaks, while Bolbo lands lightly atop his ashwood staff.
"Harbor View," the man puts in before his wife can respond, "ha! If there were any vacancies before this morning, you can rest assured there are none now. You should see the society mavens angling for an invitation to those wretched little terraces for a view of the action below! They ought to be ashamed of themselves, stooping to flatter the social aspirants renting a few square feet of Windward air to breathe. I shudder to think of how many dinner parties in the next few weeks those apartment-dwellers will have to be invited to in recompense. Lanna," he addresses his wife imperiously, "I forbid you to accept any invitations for at least a fortnight, and if we're already engaged, disentangle us. I refuse to sit across a table from some aging widow or rising merchant from Harbor View Row."
"So then I...", Gristav visibly ratiocinates in recognition of the elder's risen ire... "...shouldn't seek rooms there. Is there anyplace that might have your- well, blessing is too strong a word. Where's worthy?"
"I imagine that the power blocks are consolidating, counting their losses and attempting to regain some semblance of order." Tendal said, staring off into the middle distance. "I find it frustrating that we simply have to wait for the others to complete their tasks before we make our further plans. I know that I needed to get some work done, but still..." he raised his hand and mug in a helpless gesture.
"I don't imagine that you ran into any of our other employees here?" he asked obliquely, after a few moments of silence in the kitchen.
"So then I...", Gristav visibly ratiocinates in recognition of the elder's risen ire... "...shouldn't seek rooms there. Is there anyplace that might have your- well, blessing is too strong a word. Where's worthy?"
"Hrmph," the man looks Gristav up and down appraisingly. "I hear there are plenty of rooms to rent down in Leeward District, and more entertainment to the taste of a young bachelor, as well."
---------------------
While Gristav discusses real estate, Braddon continues to wait. After what seems like a very long time, the exit door opens, and another cluster of paying customers head up the footpath back to the top of the cliff. Then, the entrance door opens, and Braddon files in, one of the ten viewers admitted. The young Cyphermage apprentice goes from person to person, collecting the 5 silver coins from each admittee before unlocking the back door of the building. On the other side, a cobblestone trail with a wood and brass handrail meanders further down the cliff.
"I don't imagine that you ran into any of our other employees here?" he asked obliquely, after a few moments of silence in the kitchen.
Saul splutters, half choking on his coffee. "I would hope if they'd met Bojasc, they'd have led with that bit of news," he turns an anxious gaze on Phillip and Snake.
Snake shakes his head. "Nope. Nobody."
Noting Saul's lack of comfort Phillip elaborates "I held council with Marce Washburn, looking to put slips ears to any rumours pertaining to yourself Saul. I'd hope if there are whispers in Free Coin or at the docks we'll hear of them. That may help to give us direction, but Magnimar is right... sitting idle and waiting for the doom foretold is hardly planning."
"So then I...", Gristav visibly ratiocinates in recognition of the elder's risen ire... "...shouldn't seek rooms there. Is there anyplace that might have your- well, blessing is too strong a word. Where's worthy?""Hrmph," the man looks Gristav up and down appraisingly. "I hear there are plenty of rooms to rent down in Leeward District, and more entertainment to the taste of a young bachelor, as well."
"Yes.", Gristav acknowledges boredly. "I understand rooms and beds, both furnished, can be let. But such, I, let alone. I'm quite entertained here, in audience of wisdom won and worn, an opinion against the prevailing tide, given voice. It's... grand.", the half-elf celebrated.
"But I see, we discomfort your lady. You must have plans, of course; I'm sure you're fully engaged, and I'm sorry to have delayed you. My apologies. Again, I am Gristav."