"Carry her up the stairs, over your shoulder, and be laughing. Celebrate her, make her feel to be tall enough a tree not to need to bitter the earth for the rest of us." The peredhel is smiling, and not just at the twist of the 'Tall tree, sweet earth' wisdom. "Or if you're not that familiar, or not admitting, then the mushrooms are ready, there on the table."
"She hasn't.... We're not.... I'll carry the mushrooms," Dayn concludes with a wry twist of his mouth.
Upstairs, Thuvalia joins the assemblage, seating herself grandly, and is shortly followed by Daynadrian with a dish of sliced mushrooms in gravy. "Still some bread and cheese downstairs," he informs the company, "and some green peas."
"I'll get them," Larur volunteers, "and find the carving knife." He turns to head back toward the stairs.
"We've a swordsman", Gristav offers as he enters, one hand gesturing, hoping Larur would sit. "And I've a hunt-knife that as yet has tasted only game." He sets a hand on a sheathe as he waves a faint arc with his staff, and smiles. "An advantage to preferring the staff."
"I heard your kind words as I climbed the stairs.", he says to Saul. "I'm no cook. If this all seems... ambitious, credit to Samaritha for inspiring in me a degree of domestic fervor." Gristav's smile allowed a broad range of interpretations. "Appetites vary; it's not entirely sure what's on offer is welcome. And I'll confess some worry as to portions. Even as to the readiness of the dish to be consumed. But it will all prove itself in time."
"I'll return with bread, cheese, knife, and peas. Or if another would do that, then a tray of ales can be my burden. Or wines?" Gristav looked about the room to read or hear the desires of those in attendance.
"Thuvalia, would you get what's missed in the kitchen? I expect the beverages to be a greater weight, and more fairly my burden."
Nodding as though it were decided, Gristav makes for the taproom.
After measureless moments of nothingness, you begin see a ship on a dark sea. As it wheels toward you, its prow is a gaping maw filled with countless sharp teeth. In the mouth of the ship and peering out as from between bars is Lil Scarlet, but she appears neither afraid nor uncomfortable in the ship's jaws. As you watch, a red-skinned humanoid with horns like her own and a long barbed tail approaches the bow and offers the tiefling the crook of his arm. Graciously, she wraps her hand around his elbow and steps out of the ship's mouth.
You come to yourself with a start. You have no idea how long you have been divining, but there is no longer any light entering your room from the high window and you can smell the savory scent of roasted meat in the air. Looking down to put away your Harrow deck, you see that the top two cards are turned face up, although you are sure you stacked all the cards face down earlier. They are the Courtesan and the Eclipse.
Braddon seats himself at the table well away from Thuvalia, but stands again when Gristav mentions ale.
"I can help with that," he offers. Seeing Gristav head off, Braddon makes his way down to the kitchen to collect the remaining items.
Malkith hurriedly puts the cards away, his hands trembling slightly as he does. Drawing a deep breath to ease himself, the Varisian looks to the dark window and notices, for the first time, the smell of cooked food. Letting the low growl of his stomach lead the way, he makes his way upstairs to where the others are gathered.
Malkith enters the room in silence, barely making eye contact with anyone. Taking a plate, he helps himself to the feast before finding a chair off to the side of the room.
Between the two of them, the half-elves collect what is needed for the dinner. While Braddon is still gathering the dishes, Thuvalia appears in the kitchen sulkily, accompanied by a stern-looking Daynadrian. She accepts the smallest and lightest burden with ill grace and wordlessly stalks off up the stairs with it, Daynadrian throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder as he follows.
Upstairs, the table is laid and laden as for a commemorative feast, Gristav and Samaritha's meal supplemented with the dried meat, pickled vegetables and crusty bread that have been the typical fare at the Goblin. Saul takes his seat at the head of the table with delight, grinning at the spread and looking as if he would be rubbing his hands together in anticipation if he could.
"A far cry from the three of us eating cold meat pies and warm ale, eh, Larur?" he asks the dwarf at the foot of the table, filling his plate with warm mutton. "Well, lads," he asks Braddon and Daynadrian, "how did you fare trying to locate Lil Scarlet?"
Samaritha and Tendal complete their consultation and join the others at the table. Samaritha greets Malkith with a welcoming smile which quickly turns into a frown of concern at his withdrawn demeanor. "Malkith," she leans away from the table to call quietly, "what's wrong?"
Leaving the liquor store, Phil once again runs the gauntlet of the unfriendly stares of the men outside the door, but none of them seem inclined to leave the comfort of their upturned crates to hassle the unfamiliar halfling. Beneath the cloud of smoke from the Forges, the alleys of Rotgut are in complete shadow in the vanishing light, and Phil cannot deny that he feels more comfortable having left behind the district before full darkness descends as he approaches the gladiators' dormitory, his offerings of food and drink in hand.
"Well, lads," he asks Braddon and Daynadrian, "how did you fare trying to locate Lil Scarlet?"
"No one is talking. But, we found a place that could be it," Braddon replies piling food on his plate.
"We figured we'd go back and check it out when no one's about. Everyone's welcome." He takes a large bite of meat, pushes a bread roll into his mouth behind it and somehow washes it down with some ale.
"We live on the top floor -- the garret, really," she points to the dormer windows set into the roof. "You could come up, but I imagine the girls are there, probably getting ready to go out. Maybe Win, too. Unless you really feel like making awkward small talk, you could go on and meet your friends. Maddy and Almah should be gone by the time you come back. It's all the way at the top of the stairs; you can't miss it."
Phillip chuckles and smiles offering "Are you sure I should not ascend in my unfitting attire and with fading head wound to advance Maddy's already diminished opinion of me?" before reaching out to cradle Ethel's face with one hand "I will see you later tonight." expression soft but his eyes showing their usual inner hardness. He does not lead forward into embrace... though if his paramour steps forward he returns the gesture with vigor. Taking his leave he turns and walks away steadily and without a rearward glance.
______
In rotgut, Phil is more careful and cautious - gait growing slightly more slovenly and his movement constructed to show glimpses of steel beneath his cloth to ward against opportunistic attention. The grizzled man is greeted with few words and business conducted quickly, leaving with twin bottles of rotgut quickly paid for from a pocket that does not share his purse - so as to not betray the wealth that he actually carries.
Passing out of the district and towards the Gladiator's dormitory, Phil allows his wariness to fall off but slightly. A short distance from the door he pauses to pop the top from one of the bottles of moonshine, taking a slight sniff before recoiling from the acrid strength of the bottle's contents. With girded loins he takes a mouthful of the potent brew, straining some of the firewater through his teeth and down his chin before swallowing the last of the mouthful.
Coughing slightly as he comes to grips with an aftertaste likely worse than the hooch's delicate aroma, Phil wipes the overflow from his chin with one sleeve. As the warm backlight of alcohol begins to rise within his gullet, Phil cracks a smirk and continues on to the door of the gladiator's abode - with a song of the sea on his lips and trailing the fine yet pungent redolence of a low-brow tavern.
Knocking on the door with his boot, Phil awaits an answer from within... ready to disgorge salted meats from his pocket and dispense intoxication from each hand.
At the sound of Samaritha's voice, Malkith shakes his head as if shaking off the last vestiges of his revery. "Ezer ez da," he replies. He offers her a smile of reassurance, but only half succeeds.
His lingers on Samaritha for a moment longer before circulating his vision amongst the others gathered. Eventually, his gaze lands on Saul Vankaskerkin. For a long moment, he just stares at the man with an expressionless face masking the gears that are turning within the Varisian's mind. Only when he catches his employer's eye does he attempt to offer a smile of gratitude and turn back towards his plate of food.
Samaritha is clearly not reassured but unwilling to draw Malkith out when he obviously wants to keep his own counsel for now. "Perhaps you should just tell General Mescher about your suspicions and let him send some Gendarmes to check it out," she suggests to Braddon. "Didn't you say he's looking for Lil too?"
"What's that?" Saul puts in with a frown. "Why are the Gendarmes involved? What does Mescher want with Lil?"
Across the rapidly darkening road from the arena, Phil waits for a response to his kick. After an interval -- long enough, the halfling judges, for a man to descend the stairs from the second-floor residences he visited this afternoon -- he hears an interior latch click, and the door opens a few inches. Akron Erix recognizes the caller a few seconds before the scent of cheap liquor wafts its way up to his olfactories. He cocks a dubious eyebrow but opens the door for Phillip to enter.
Inclining his head and offering a short bow Phillip addresses his greeter "Good evening Akron, I trust I find you well?" as he tentatively makes his way across the threshold of the door.
"Better than some," he replies reprovingly as he steps aside to let the halfling in and closes the door behind him. "You've had an early start, I see. That stuff will kill you, you know. Of course," he shrugs, "so will three and a half feet of steel. A man picks his poison."
"Aye... though as with the steel the key in the equation is how much of it you let reach your gut." winking rakishly "Which poison is your preference then Akron?... I can impart that mine is neither drink nor steel."
"I've sampled a few," he replies noncommitally, relocking the latch, "but haven't yet chosen the one that will kill me. Ranef is upstairs. You know the way."
Smile remaining on his face Phillip inclines his head in answer before turning to move upstairs. As he ascends he ponders on what might be hidden away within Akron's center if one were able to get past his stoic and hard exterior. Another day... the pawns should fall more easily under sway than the knights or rooks... Phillip puts on his game face and turns his mind instead to how best he might become companionable to a room full of people that are fundamentally unlike himself.
Phil goes upstairs and down the corridor into the simple common room he sat in earlier in the afternoon. The two Varisian fighters are sitting at one of the wooden tables, throwing their knives at a knothole in the wall. The young Mwangi and the man with the fair beard -- Ulfen, most likely, Phillip decides -- are watching the contest. Sitting with them is Ranef, who spies the halfling heading down the hall and stands to welcome him exuberantly. "Fillif! You have come!"
Phillip saunters into the room with a grin "Aye Ranef, I have come." moving over to the table and putting the bottles down before fishing the jerky out of his pocket also. He turns to the others as well offering a wink and a wave "Gentlemen... I don't believe I caught your names before... or if I did, Ranef's love tap to my head knocked the sense out of me" hoping that a self-deprecating joke would start the evening off handsomely.
"What's that?" Saul puts in with a frown. "Why are the Gendarmes involved? What does Mescher want with Lil?"
"Don't worry," Braddon explains cheerfully. "They owe me for saving his daughter from Bott."
Braddon takes another swig of ale and continues."The girl we returned unharmed yesterday was General Mescher's daughter and he stumbled upon us when we went back to her apartment this morning looking for more clues but we didn't find the governess and I think she was tossed over the cliff and he said he'd send the gendarmes down to look for her but that half handkerchief that Dayn gave me this morning was also the smell in the daughter's apartment so if the handkerchief did belong to Lil then she must have been there and I think she used magic to get into the house and replace the governess before handing the daughter off to the housemaids to bring her here. The Kruf... The Krump's maid said she didn't know of any plots and just did it for the payoff, but Larur said that Lil knew them so she could have known where they were going and set it up. Sam suggested we ask the Varisian's about her, the governess, since they stick together and if she did get away she might be hiding there. So I gave Mescher half of the half of the handkerchief I had and told him that's what the attacker smelled like."
Braddon pops a large mushroom into his mouth and chews it thoughtfully.
"It seemed to me, the governess might or might not have fallen to foul play, and that we ought to presume her neither innocent nor dead. Hence the Lubbertown search. We might fold that into a search for musicians or dancers, to make it appear less investigative."
"I'm unclear on what's intended for Lil Scarlet, assuming we've found her... do we seize her? Track and follow while one of us goes to Mescher?"
Now, wait, wait a minute." Saul ignores the food on his plate as he tries to follow the gist of Braddon's tale. "Lil was the one who planted Mescher's daughter on our premises? And Mescher knows about it? Why would she do that?" He seems to find this latest development more alarming than the heist attempted by the Sczarni.
"Aha, Fillif, I was to buy you the drink, no?" Ranef scolds as Phil lays out his bounty. "This is Varg and Harry, and the two knife-throwers are Drezi and Stellan." The man with the blond beard and the one with the dark skin give polite nods, while the Varisians utterly ignore the new arrival.
Braddon nods to Daynadrian. "See, I told you it was a set up."
To Saul he replies, "I don't know why she'd do that. I figured we'd ask her when we captured her. Or maybe you know?"
Braddon pauses long enough for the question to register, but continues before Saul can answer.
"I thought she was trying to get you and him to fight but Malk, Dayn and I saved Ananda and handled the situation so well that now the General is our friend and helping us."
Braddon sits up a little straighter before continuing.
"But she also stole Ananda's birthday necklace. Mescher thinks that was to make it look like a theft instead of a threat, to him or you, but I'm not so sure. He said the drug used on Ananda was Indigo Dream and costs more than the necklace is supposed to be worth. And the apartment was looted only where the necklace might have been hidden. I have no idea why a magic using tiefling would want a special and personal item belonging to the young daughter of one of the most powerful men in Riddleport. It probably just has a lock of hair or somesuch inside it but maybe it has a treasure map hidden inside or something else valuable."
Braddon nods at his clever little theory, scoops up some gravy with a crust of bread and fills his mouth with it.
"The value of the necklace may have been that of the high card held back, in a game of trumps. It went well, yes, the night of the failed robbery? But it might have gone differently, were not a handful of jacks to have been drawn into Saul's hand. One might imagine a robbery as cover for a rape, and a necklace, planned for planting on the premises, as the last card of the flush, of red, in a father's face."
"Lil, it seems, planted the daughter among maids-a-raving. Nicely deniable. Bott happened to be here. Nicely deniable. Lil's scent, and only her scent, so far, links her to the Sczarni. Need I say, nicely deniable? The disappearance of the governess is not yet followed to ground, but she might yet be found on a lark of her own... surely, deniable. Hopefully she'll be in company of a rooster -or hen- , rather than a vulture."
"As for why...? The question begs."
Knowledge Local:
Phillip shrugs at Ranef's words as he pulls out his dagger deftly to cut open the parcel of meat "Drink is here now" stated simply as though there is no point to argue providence when the bounty is present. To the others he offers a nod in greeting, even to the Varisi "Evening" before gesturing plainly to show that the items brought are freely offered and grabbing a hunk of jerky to bite at.
Braddon points at Gristav.
"You leave the governess alone. She's an innocent victim. She knew where Ananda's necklace was and if she'd been involved the house wouldn't have been looted for it. Lil is scum for whatever she's done to that poor little old lady."
"Once found, the governess may be proved innocent. Or she may be presumed innocent, and a victim, and lost. Or presumed a dupe, and distracted. Or an accomplice. But since none of the others in the plot were informed of the overall scheme, nor harmed, let us allow in our thinking for the potential of discovering the lady at some pleasant distraction, just as all the others, save the daughter, believed themselves to be."
"As for 'leaving her alone', I've no more harmed her by imagining such a possibility, than you have by guessing at her death."
"I do respect, however, your chivalrous defense of the presumed decedent's honor. Bravo. Be assured, I did not suggest complicity, no more than the maids-a-roving, and less than our own Thuvalia, here."
Looking now to Thuvalia, Gristav praised, "It was indeed fortunate for the investigation, that you were more attentive and intelligent than this Lil, -although she, too, is unproven- had planned for. I would guess it a probable hubris of schemers, to underweight the common folk."
"Not that I call you 'common'. On the contrary; I propose that this plotter, -Lil, or whoever- had dismissed you as common and so not a threat to their secrets. In which, they were, evidentially..." Gristav mimed a sniffed an absent handkerchief, or a half, or an eighth. "Proved wrong."
Phillip shrugs at Ranef's words as he pulls out his dagger deftly to cut open the parcel of meat "Drink is here now" stated simply as though there is no point to argue providence when the bounty is present. To the others he offers a nod in greeting, even to the Varisi "Evening" before gesturing plainly to show that the items brought are freely offered and grabbing a hunk of jerky to bite at.
"Faugh!" Ranef scoffs. "Akron has been getting at you. He does not like us to be going out to the taverns."
"You blame me?" the man himself asks mildly as he follows Phillip into the common room. "I'm the one that has to make apologies and pay amends if any of you start trouble anywhere -- or explain to Zincher why one of his prize fighters won't be making his next bout because he got himself killed in a brawl." In the meantime, the Mwangi gladiator has gotten up eagerly to fetch earthenware cups to share out the liquor.
Phillip chuckles "And is cheaper and better company to drink here than it would be out there... right Ranef?"
He shrugs. "One is less likely to have his pocket picked, yes," he admits, "but also less likely to have a reason to fight!" He grins with enthusiasm at the prospect, and Akron gives Phil a told-you-so smirk as he strolls through the common area and into an open door down the far corridor. "I know what you are thinking, Fillif," Ranef goes on. "Ranef fights every day! But I fight the same men every day. Even the orc-blooded I fight for the crowds, they are the same ones I fight every week. There is so rarely anyone new! That is why I like you, Fillif. You, I have never fought before. You can still surprise me with your tricks and your running like a rabbit, no?"
"I have no idea why a magic using tiefling would want a special and personal item belonging to the young daughter of one of the most powerful men in Riddleport. It probably just has a lock of hair or somesuch inside it but maybe it has a treasure map hidden inside or something else valuable."
Samaritha frowns. "Where is Ananda staying now, Braddon? In Devil's Fork with her father? What you said about a personal item... it can be used to scry on someone, to spy on them magically from a distance," she quickly defines, seeing his frown of incomprehension. "What if whoever has it took it to spy on General Mescher, knowing he'd keep his daughter close to him after she was targeted?"
Tendal nods. "Possibly, Samaritha, but that's quite advanced magic. I think it more likely that there may be more to the necklace than the General knew, as Braddon says. There could be a hidden compartment behind one of the jewels. Or it could have sentimental value to the thief. I think we should seek to ascertain exactly where and under what circumstances the General acquired it."
"Lil, it seems, planted the daughter among maids-a-raving. Nicely deniable. Bott happened to be here. Nicely deniable. Lil's scent, and only her scent, so far, links her to the Sczarni. Need I say, nicely deniable?"
Saul frowns and turns to Braddon. "Didn't you say that Shorafa sent Oliver here because the elf was meddling with one of her boys?" Thuvalia lifts a questioning eyebrow at Daynadrian, who scowls. "How could Lil possibly have orchestrated that?"
Braddon frowns and chews his food thoughtfully.
"Hmm, we'll just have to ask Lil when we catch her. The best time to check out this apartment would be before midnight. Lil will probably be out working till at least then. Hopefully she'll be out until even later. It sounds like some nights she doesn't even come home."
"Ranef fights every day! But I fight the same men every day. Even the orc-blooded I fight for the crowds, they are the same ones I fight every week. There is so rarely anyone new! That is why I like you, Fillif. You, I have never fought before. You can still surprise me with your tricks and your running like a rabbit, no?"
Phillip notes the passage of Akron, but keeps his eyes and attention upon Ranef. "Heh, aye... though I'd hesitate to call what I managed in the arena fighting though... more like creative fleeing. You're right in one thing though... fighting merely for the sake of it isn't the same as fighting someone worth fighting." letting the words hang in the air for a few moments before taking a cup from the Mwangi gentleman and seeing that they are both furnished with drink.
"What do you think Harry?" making his voice hesitant with pronunciation and inviting the Mwangi to correct his butchering of his name.
The Mwangi lad -- and he is most likely not out of his teens, despite the height and build of a grown man -- responds cheerfully, "I fight like I drink: anything put in front of me." He offers no correction to Phil's pronunciation and speaks Taldane like a Riddleport native.
The Ulfen man Varg also accepts a cup with a flash of grin through his heavy blond beard, and now that the liquor is being poured, one of the Varisian knife-throwers gives the other a significant glance, buries the point of his knife in the surface of the table with a quick stab that leaves it quivering, and slides down the bench to claim his own share. "Some fine throwing in the ring this afternoon. If you'd been fighting with real weaponry rather than crude training clubs, you might have given Ranef a real scratch with that throw -- before he took your head off clean at the shoulders, of course." The other Varisian snickers as he fills his own cup. "You care to give us a chance to win our gold back in a throwing contest?"
"Hmm, we'll just have to ask Lil when we catch her. The best time to check out this apartment would be before midnight. Lil will probably be out working till at least then. Hopefully she'll be out until even later. It sounds like some nights she doesn't even come home."
"You mean you're planning on going back there tonight?" Saul asks. He frowns and takes a bite of mutton, chewing as he thinks. "Yes ... yes, that's a good idea. With the Gendarmes looking for her too, we need to find her before they do, if we hope to get a chance to question her."
"Question her?" Larur frowns. "Why do we need to question her as long as she gets locked up in Shoreleave where she can't cause us any more trouble?"
"Think, Larur!" Saul cajoles. "What if she has an accomplice? What if she's taking orders from someone else: Shorafa or even Zincher? Mescher locks her up in Shoreleave and throws away the key, and we lose all chance to find out who might have it in for the Goblin and why."
Braddon nods at Saul's words.
"Malkith said she was being protected, or something like that. He saw it in the cards," Braddon offers helpfully and turns to look at Malkith.
"What if she's innocent? Or if not, perhaps guilty of nothing more than an aborted deflowering and unwitnessed, unprovable conspiracy to commit robbery? Can we declare those crimes eligible for summary judgement, when we sit among such criminals now?"
"Mind you, I think we might be well served by an ambush, hopefully in absence of whatever protector presence Malkith has divined."
"Some fine throwing in the ring this afternoon. If you'd been fighting with real weaponry rather than crude training clubs, you might have given Ranef a real scratch with that throw -- before he took your head off clean at the shoulders, of course." The other Varisian snickers as he fills his own cup. "You care to give us a chance to win our gold back in a throwing contest?"
Phillip inwardly smiles as his supply of drink is readily accepted by the gladiators... hopefully they didn't mind the harsh topnote and bile producing burn it left once imbibed. He took a miserly sip from his own cup before putting arms wide and smiling to the Varisi "Heh, aye.. if we were carrying steel I'd not be walking for sure. As to the throw my ears aren't closed..." face showing a slight wariness as he continues "What did you have in mind?..."
"A simple contest of skill," the man shrugs. "We each put in a small stake, and he who throws closest to that knothole in the wall," he points it out; from the scars in the wall around it, the mark has been used as a target before, "takes the pot. What say you?"
"What if she's innocent? Or if not, perhaps guilty of nothing more than an aborted deflowering and unwitnessed, unprovable conspiracy to commit robbery? Can we declare those crimes eligible for summary judgement, when we sit among such criminals now?"
"Exactly," Saul puts in. "We hand her over to Devil's Fork, and you think they'll do any digging into what she's actually done? They'll just throw her in Shoreleave and declare the case closed. If we want the truth, we're going to have to get at it ourselves." He glances at Malkith a bit nervously. "You've read the cards about Lil? What have they told you?"