Back at the Gold Goblin, the staff completes their supper, the appetites of some of those around the table perhaps hindered by nervousness at what the rest of the evening might bring; Braddon, on the other hand, enjoys his extra helpings blithely. Gristav's evoked ice does its job of keeping the dessert course chilled until the end of the meal. Samaritha's enjoyment of the strawberries is curtailed by her concern for the men's upcoming mission, but Thuvalia makes up for the half-elf's hesitation, piling her own plate high with the fresh berries and generous dollops of cream.
When Malkith leaves the room to gather his belongings and prepare for the excursion, Samaritha stands and begins gathering what's left of the food to return to the kitchen. As her course takes her near Gristav, she breathes, "Vi ŝajnas terure avida esti la fali sub Lil la sorĉas."
As her course takes her near Gristav, she breathes, "Vi ŝajnas terure avida esti la fali sub Lil la sorĉas."
** spoiler omitted **
Gristav clumsily scatters unused silverware to the floor. Joining Samaritha in picking it up, he replies softly, "Ne, sed mi estas la plej malgranda perdo. Kaj Mi donos la malgrandaj gxis la malamiko. Kaj la alia plej verŝajne unue? Nu, ĉu vi prefere donu al ŝi mian bastonon, nek lian glavoj? Mia famoj aux sian atestadon? Kiel mi diris, peono oferon al la skarlata reĝino."
"Besides", Gristav added as they stood from the gathering, and he passed the last knife, carefully, hilt-first, his eyes bright. "She can't charm me. I've been charmed by you."
"You and every other guy this side of Cheliax," Braddon points out rising. "Come on, let's go."
Braddon turns to Samaritha.
"I'll try and bring back as many of your admirers as possible. Though I'll understand if you want a few to go missing. If you're lucky, we'll all be out until morning waiting up for a whore and you can get a peaceful night's rest." Braddon grins.
"See you tomorrow," he waves nonchalantly.
It's hard to tell if it's bravery or stupidity, real or feigned.
"I don't like the idea of any of you falling into her sphere of influence," she tells them both soberly. "There's more to her than a simple charm spell. Charm magic wears off, but her suitors just keep going back to her. Men have killed each other over her. Just ... be careful."
The four gather downstairs on the casino floor before heading out into the night. Braddon and Daynadrian lead Gristav and Malkith northward to the building they pinpointed earlier. The businesses are all closed, and the streets are quiet, though not deserted. Lamplight is visible from residential windows, and they spy occasional pedestrians, most headed for the river and the entertainments of Free-Coin on the other side.
They arrive at the building in question, and Braddon points out the alley, quite dark now as it is too narrow for either streetlights nor moonlight to penetrate far. No light is visible from the interior of the second story, either around the cracks of the door at the top of the stairs or from the few heavily-curtained windows. All seems quiet in the immediate vicinity
Braddon keeps close to the wall beneath the suspect apartment and makes his way smoothly to the bottom of the stairs where he holds up a hand to halt the others. Instead of climbing the stairs, he examines their underneath carefully, gently pushing at one or two steps to test their sturdiness and looking for loose or creaky steps. When satisfied, he waves the others up. While they tend to the door, he returns to an end of the alley to keep guard, waiting silently for a signal to join them once they meet with success.
Braddon checks out the staircase, more by touch than by sight, while Malkith prepares his divination. The stairs seems sturdy and well-maintained. When he climbed the staircase to knock at the door earlier in the afternoon, he noticed that the fifth step from the top creaked; he mentions it to the others before taking up his position at the far end of the alley.
Daynadrian glances up the stairs, then at Malkith, and shrugs, waiting at the opposite end where he can keep an eye on the street they just came down until the Harrower is done.
Raising an opportunity for Ethel to further her education he poses a question "Of course given present appearances... an opportunity presents itself for assertion and training." making the coin dance and disappear before returning it to hand with a flourish and proffering it to Ethel.
With a rougish expression he elaborates "You are a predator of the night, and I am a drunkard that you picked up for purpose of fleecing for coin. Dismayed with my stench you seek to clean me up before proceeding to the more indelicate conclusion to the evening. Would you care to attempt the charade?"
Ethel accepts the coin, bemused, but her eyes grow wide with alarm as she hears what he expects her to do with it. She swallows any objections she might have thought about voicing, however, sensing that this is a test, of a sort. "I needn't pretend to think you desperately need a bath before I get close enough to pick your pockets, Phil," she says as lightly as she can manage, "and I do hope your pouch is full enough that I'm not spending more to clean you up than I stand to make off the evening." She glances down at her dress. "Is this what a predator would wear, or should there be ... less?"
When she and Phillip are satisfied with her manner of dress, she douses the lamp and locks the hatch door behind her as they climb back down the stepladder; then they go on down the stairs and out into the night. As they approach the lighted plaza in front of the temple where temple workers, the women in light, gauzy dresses, the men in black leather armor, stroll with an eye to potential clients, she hesitates and laughs to cover her nerves. "If any of Betta's regulars see me... but then, I suppose they'd have to explain what they were doing here, as well."
"Just ... be careful."
"Where the task allows.", Gristav agrees.
-----
At the stairway, Gristav whispers the spell to expand his senses into magical spectra, and stands staring up the stairs, silent until he acknowledges Braddon's 5th-step warning.
Malkith finds a spot under the stairs to prepare. Rather than reaching for his harrow deck, the Varisian extracts a bit of incense. He gathers some refuse from the alley so that when lit, it's glow cannot be readily seen by anyone approaching the steps. He then breaths deeps and begins to focus his mind.
As Ethel's mode of dress is mildly altered Phil gives her a few messages of support and guidance "Remember, it's more about what you don't say than what you do. You just want to give them the impression, and let their minds fill in the finer details. You'll be fine, in the end it's just a private bath... no attendants for the two of us."
As they approach the house of the veil Phillip adopts his persona of drunkenness, not with words yet, but by means of his actions. "If you do see any of them it's an opportunity... especially if they're with someone they shouldn't be and look furtive and nervous" winking to accent the thought.
As they near to the place where Ethel's tongue will see some use, Phillip gives her a pinch on the bottom and sloppy drunken grin.
"No spells seen from here.", Gristav whispers. He slowly mounts the stairs, mindful of the warped and whining one of which he was warned. Stopping just short of the suspect step, he again opens his aural awareness...
Stepping over the indicated step, Gristav stands in the starlight at the top of the stairs, ready to give whatever minor light he can magic, to the task of attending the door's lock.
Ethel swats Phillip's hand away irritably before shooting him an apologetic look, her nerves obviously getting to her. She takes a deep breath and raises her chin with dignity before stepping onto the edge of the lamplit plaza, weaving her way among the people milling about in the space without making eye contact with any of them. Fumbling a little with the diaphanous veil at the entrance, she continues down the hallway to the sitting room at the heart of the temple, where she pauses, a little overawed by the tapestries and cushions and statuary.
The attendant this evening is a tall, dark-haired man in the obligatory black leather, an extraplanar heritage discernible in both the bluish cast of his flesh and a certain rough thickness about it, more hide than skin. The presence of the tiefling throws her, and Ethel glances over her shoulder at Phil with alarm before gathering the courage to approach. "I need a bath, or, well, he does. One for the both of us, please. A-and no one else," she stammers.
As Ethel makes her approach, Phil silkily moves to stumble next to her and throw an arm round her shoulders. Wheezing through bared teeth he gives the black leathered gent a big wink "Aye, hur... just the two of us."
After about ten minutes of focused meditation, Malkith's eyes slowly open. He draws a heavy breath in prelude to a disappointed sigh. "I fear this may be a waste of our time," he says in a hushed voice to Braddon as he approaches the stairs. "The Fates are silent; whether there is nothing of value for us here or the simple choose to remain detached, I do not know."
Daynadrian shrugs. "Might as well see what's here, since we've come this far. At least they didn't warn you against going in, right?"
Careful to step over the squeaky step, he climbs the staircase and unrolls his lockpicks. "Hold the light on the keyhole," he instructs Gristav. "Just because there isn't a spell on the lock doesn't mean she hasn't trapped it by more mundane means." For several moments, he examines the latch minutely. "Looks clean. Give me a while longer; this could take some time." Selecting a tool, he sets to work by the feeble light of Gristav's prestidigitation.
---------------------------
A bit further east at the House of the Silken Veil, Ethel seems a bit too timid to be a predator of the night -- Phil can hear the quaver in her voice -- but his own performance as a lascivious drunk is beyond reproach and the moue of disgust with which Ethel reacts to his sudden malodorous proximity is genuine enough. Ultimately, though, Phil senses that the tiefling really doesn't care whether he's being deceived; the temple provides its services without passing judgment.
"Two silver each," he grunts. "Another two for privacy." He takes the gold coin and hands back the change along with a triangular token. "The bath attendant can set you up with curtains or a private compartment; give her that to show you've paid."
He doesn't actually give them directions, but Phil remembers the door past the fountain and is able surreptitiously to guide Ethel by the elbow so she looks like she knows where she's going. They descend the stairs, both the humidity and the scent of perfume in the air growing stronger as they go. They come out in the subterranean cavern, the reflection of the floating candles on the water dancing on the walls and ceiling. Ethel breathes a sigh of wonder at the dimly-lit, sweet-smelling grotto, then blushes as she notices a few uninhibited or impecunious patrons making open use of the bathing pool.
The attendant, a discreet distance from the stairs, is the same strawberry blonde Phil encountered in the lobby upstairs his first day in Riddleport. She smiles at the pair but doesn't approach; he surmises the bath attendants are trained not to encroach on patrons' privacy without an invitation.
Content at least to be past the entrance Phil figures there will be more than enough time to reflect on Ethel's nerves later. He leans in close to Ethel and whispers "Not much longer... remember nothing to fear here."
Seeing that the next part of her gauntlet is merely a human woman, Ethel gives Phil a confident glance before wrapping her fingers around his and schlepping him to the attendant. Proffering her token expectantly, she breezily requests, "I'd like a little privacy, please, for me and, uh," she turns and stares blankly at Phillip just long enough to give the impression she's utterly forgotten his name, "my new friend."
The corner of the woman's mouth smirks slightly upward, and Phil reads both amusement and approval before she obligingly moves to fetch towels and set up curtains around a secluded alcove of the pool.
Crouched at the top of the stairs, Daynadrian fiddles with the lock long enough that Gristav's arm begins to stiffen and ache from holding the light steady. The elf's cautious and methodical approach pays off, however, when the pair on the landing hear a faint >click<. Dayn looks up at Gristav affirmatively and lays his tool down softly before readying his bow. Setting arrow to string, he gives the magus a nod to open the door.
Gristav flutters his fae-fixed fingers, flexing against the gathering grip of casting cramp. Then he again mutters mutely, and the fae light returns, tracing the edge of the door in wordless question to Daynadrian, with Gristav's expression serving as punctuation.
At the elf's shrug, and after a quick mental calculation of the condition of his own fingers if he insisted on a thorough caution, Gristav strode through the door with studied nonchalance, very nearly reaching for his absent hat as though to hang it immediately.
Inside, he let the door hang open, and the shadows of starlight inform his eyes, holding in a sort of reserve the mere candlelight he might offer. When he could see a path, he stepped away from the door, clearing a path (or at least an arc of fire) for Daynadrian.
The door gingerly opens to reveal no more light inside than out, and less sound, for outside on the landing two men are trying not to breathe. To Gristav's ears, the room seems deserted; to his eyes, elven as they are, it is dark. He takes a quick whiff and believes he discerns the faint scent of Lil's perfume.
Past the threshold, he can make out nothing, but hearing no sounds of life or movement, he steps just inside the door and to the side, clearing the doorway for Daynadrian. The elf steps to the door and sweeps the tip of the arrow on his bowstring across the interior, as he himself looks and listens. After a tense moment or two of silence, he dares to relax a little and whisper to Gristav, "Lumo?"
Braddon glances back at the balcony and notices the absence of his companions shadows against the darkness. With a last look down the street, Braddon retreats into the blackness of the alley and makes his way up the stairs, remembering to avoid the creaky step. Once they are all inside, Braddon gently closes the door behind them.
"Is this the place? Let's take a look around. Don't touch anything you don't have to. Put anything moved back where you find it. Except clues. Someone peek through the corner of a window and try to watch the alley."
Braddon starts opening draws and cupboards wondering what a vial of Indigo Dreams might look like.
...obligingly moves to fetch towels and set up curtains around a secluded alcove of the pool.
Phillip's initial doubt is somewhat assuaged by Ethel's more assured handling of the second part of the gauntlet. Once privacy is created through hanging of curtain, Phil eases out of his dust covered and sandy clothing, piling it haphazardly to one side before seeing if Ethel needed any help of her own. Slipping into the water he dunks his head and lets himself soak for a few moments until Ethel joins him.
Once she does so he asks "So... are the baths to your imagined expectation?" smiling as he does so.
and whisper to Gristav, "Lumo?"
Gristav audibly draws breath through his nose in three measures, to inspire similar attention in Daynadrian. At a gesture, a firefly light begins a slow exploration of the room.
"Is this the place? Let's take a look around. Don't touch anything you don't have to. Put anything moved back where you find it. Except clues. Someone peek through the corner of a window and try to watch the alley."
Braddon starts opening draws and cupboards wondering what a vial of Indigo Dreams might look like.
"It seems we've followed our noses.", Gristav offers. "I'll take that watch. Perhaps better you don't disturb anything, until you've tried to see what patterns her use of the place has left. Consider it a... forest glade."
"Here," Daynadrian steps in, "let me take the window. You can't maneuver your spell and keep watch at the same time."
While the elf keeps watch, Gristav meticulously directs the tiny glimmer around the surfaces of the dark room, moving forward only when he must to keep the light from getting out of range and flickering out. The flat appears to consist of a single room, running perhaps two-thirds of the length of the building. The only two windows are on either side of the door and are heavily curtained for privacy; the side walls slant up the interior of the roofline to the ceiling. In front of one of the windows is a tall metal stand of some kind.
In addition, the apartment contains a small wooden table with two chairs, a dressing table with a mirror and low cushioned stool, a chest of drawers, a standing wardrobe, and a round canopied bed in pride of place in the center of the back wall like a throne on a dais. The nearer to the bed, the stronger the scent of the perfume grows; it must be on the sheets. Gristav's firefly blunders across an oil lamp atop the chest and returns to hover impatiently as its master inspects the item. Its reservoir is more than half-full and the wick trimmed in readiness. If the lamp were lit, it would allow a much more thorough search of the apartment, and the curtains at the windows appear to be thick enough to keep the light from being seen by anyone traversing the alley.
"I could go back outside on the landing and keep watch from there," Daynadrian offers, "while you look for clues. If anyone approaches, I'll signal you."
"So... are the baths to your imagined expectation?"
She smiles back at him. "I didn't know what to expect," she replies, keeping her voice low to keep it from echoing through the underground chamber. "Certainly not this. It's like something out of a storybook." She ripples the surface of the water toward a nearby floating candle-bowl and watches the light and shadow dance on the ceiling. "It's nothing like carrying buckets of water up all those dizzy flights of stairs to fill a washtub. I suppose if I thought the baths were like anything, it would be rows of metal tubs with washstands all lined up in a room. Here, let me see that." Gingerly, she pushes the hair behind his ear aside, both making sure the sticky mat of blood is washed out and examining the lump itself, pressing tenderly to gauge the severity of the injury. "Does it still hurt?"
Yielding to her ginger touch, Phil shakes his head "Not enough to worry... though no doubt the morning will be less fine than usual. I've had worse... and that which cuts is worse than a flat blow." cupping hands to catch and douse his head and body in water further.
Gesturing at the baths Phil smiles "Part of the Wasp Queen's reputation is much deserved at least..." before chuckling and shaking his head slightly "To be fair, I've not spent much of a time in places such as this... but Riddleport has been good to me thus far, so one much enjoy before the turn eh?"
"Fair enough.", Gristav agrees with Daynadrian. "Just a rap. We'll be lighting that lamp when you've closed the door, so wait for an answer-rap before you come back in, or you'll be tending a lighthouse."
With Daynadrian gone, and the door closed, Gristav provides the firefly for whoever will light the lamp, then dismisses his luminous mote, and once again opens his auric awareness...
Daynadrian slips out the door and pulls it shut behind him, while Braddon carefully lights the lamp. The wick flares to life, drowning Gristav's glimmer in the flood of light. Malkith double-checks that the curtains are fully shut as the men's eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. The whole of the room is at least dimly lit to Malkith's eyes when the lamp is set back atop the chest of drawers; to the half-elves, the lamp is more than sufficient for their keen eyesight even to the corners.
The first thing evident is that the apartment is not dusty at all. It has been occupied, or at least cleaned, quite recently, within the last handful of days, Braddon estimates. He examines the floor, the bed, the dressing table, looking for signs of use. There is no question of footprints on the clean floor, but he finds a few long brunette hairs clinging to the pillows in addition to the scent of Lil's perfume on the bedclothes.
Apart from that, the only sign of untidiness in the flat is the floor beneath the metal stand by the window. Braddon finds a scattering of seed husks and a few tiny feathers at its foot, evidently deposited there since the floor was last swept.
While Braddon applies his hunter's eye to the small details, Gristav opens his mind to the extrasensory auras that might lie hidden in plain sight in Lil's sanctum, but the room is as arcanely dark as it was physically dark when the door was first opened. Dismissing the cantrip, he focuses instead on the furnishings. Though they're obviously based on some of the newest designs out of Magnimar, he judges them to be cheap knock-offs. When he can do so without inconveniencing Braddon's investigations, he moves the lamp to examine the underside of the wooden dressing table, seeking the manufacturer's mark. Somewhat to his surprise, he recognizes the brand of the furniture store on Water Street he had earlier recommended to Phillip. Not like Chartagnion to turn out such shoddy merchandise; perhaps it's a new line to capture the discount market -- or a counterfeit.
Gesturing at the baths Phil smiles "Part of the Wasp Queen's reputation is much deserved at least..." before chuckling and shaking his head slightly "To be fair, I've not spent much of a time in places such as this... but Riddleport has been good to me thus far, so one much enjoy before the turn eh?"
"You're not going to lead me to believe it's always like this?" she teases. "All luxury and pleasure as far as the eye can see? I don't think you're doing a proper job of leading me astray."
Smirking back at her teasing Phil replies "Oh, but you're already astray milady... I'm just inuring you to the eventual disappointment my company will prove." slicking back his now clean hair and settling in for an idle soak. "The luxury might lack now and again, though pleasure is always near... if you know how to look for it. How did you find the dagger?" asking after her practice with the hidden compartment.
"Someone has fed a bird? A well-mannered bird, by the lack of aught but hulls and sails... It hasn't dropped anchor."
"And this table is curious. It has a story. Or a secret. When a master chef bakes a simple loaf... Look for a file?"
Gristav taps gently on the thicker regions of the curiously-casually-crafted faux-fashionable furnishing.
"A bird? Don't mages have animals that talk to them and spy on people? If there's a bird outside watching this place, tell Dayn to shoot it."
Braddon starts at the dressing table and moves on to the chest of drawers. He checks under the low stool before sitting on it and using it to get a feel for how the table is set up. He bends and feels his way carefully around sides and under nearby surfaces, figuring out where would be the quickest places to retrieve a weapon in an emergency, if there's enough room behind or under draws for messages or if a vial at the back of some toiletries might contain poison instead. While he is thorough and takes his time, there is little pattern to his search as he follows through on one idea before then exploring the next.
"Clean apartments are much easier to search," he explains. "Some people are pigs and you can't find anything. Clever people have a place for everything. We just need to find it."
He goes back to exploring and seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.
Malkith stands to the side, allowing his companions to do the bulk of the investigation in the dim light. As he watched Braddon immerse himself in his element, a thought occurs to him. "Hold a moment," he requests, coming up behind Braddon before he can open the next drawer. With a brief utterance, the Varisian passes his hand over the object. A second more and he nods for the half-elf to proceed. "This one is free of potential venoms." As Braddon works, Malkith assists by ensuring the drawers, boxes, and other items of interest are not poisoned.
"This one is free of potential venoms." As Braddon works, Malkith assists by ensuring the drawers, boxes, and other items of interest are not poisoned.
Intrigued at this new sensibility, Gristav indulges a moment, allowing the concept to spread in his mind like wine on cobbles, following familiar and facile flows.
"When you might...", he asks Malkith, "If you might, would you turn that venom-eye toward this table?"
"A bird? Don't mages have animals that talk to them and spy on people? If there's a bird outside watching this place, tell Dayn to shoot it."
...
"Clean apartments are much easier to search," he explains. "Some people are pigs and you can't find anything. Clever people have a place for everything. We just need to find it."He goes back to exploring and seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.
"I haven't seen a bird. Only the wrapper of its lunch. You wonder of a knife and fork... or at least a knife. I have to agree, of the potential."
"You might have better odds for being untracked in your passing, by choosing a region to thoroughly search, then restoring it at once to its original appearance, before beginning a second region. As though cleaning a chessboard, one square at a time. Lift the piece, clean, replace the piece..."
"If that's high foolishness, I apologize. I'm no sort of seasoned subterfugeur. Just a fair hand at Chess."
"How did you find the dagger?" asking after her practice with the hidden compartment.
"Oh," she replies with a glance back at her belongings lying in a pile on the stone floor outside the pool, "all right, I guess. I could get the chip in and out all right, but I'm not as fast as you -- and without someone watching me, I couldn't guess whether they would have been able to see where it was going."
As Braddon begins searching the dressing table, Malkith steps up and attunes his senses to detect any toxins which might be present. The surface in front of the mirror is clear of any items, which is odd in and of itself: Most women at least keep a hairbrush and perhaps an atomizer for perfume or a pot of talc at the ready. Neither Malkith's nor Gristav's supernumerary senses detect anything untoward on or around the dressing table.
Braddon moves on to the chest and begins carefully to check one drawer at a time, Malkith and Gristav keeping their detection spells active over his shoulders. In contrast to the outward order of the room, the drawers are a jumble of items, nothing within them folded: a few light summery dresses, a peignoir, gauzy wraps, but also a heavy Varisian shawl in a bottom drawer, all smelling of Lil's familiar perfume. The drawers are not full and look as if they've been pored through by someone else, someone not as interested in leaving things as they found them.
One drawer contains a tangle of jewelry; Gristav estimates that none of it is of any real value, the stones being paste or inexpensive semi-precious stones at best. Braddon begins to close the drawer again, frowns, and lifts out the whole snarl. Running his fingers around the edges of the drawer, he finds a fingerhold and is able to lift out the entire bottom; turning the piece over, he finds that the underside is lined with a thin sheet of lead. As soon as he lifts it out of the way, Malkith raises a note of caution: there is a faint hint of toxicity beneath the false bottom. Concentrating, he soon isolates it to two stoppered vials; apart from these two vials and some strangely shimmering dust that seems to have spilled in one corner, the hidden compartment is empty.
Braddon looks blankly at the dresser as he sits in front of it. He sweeps a hand across the blank top in emphasis. "Don't women have loads of gunk to stick on their faces? Wouldn't a whore have even more? Has she fled and taken them? Is she using disguise magic? Hmm, we may not have been the first people to search this place. Ooh... a shawl." Braddon pulls out the heavy Varisian shawl, takes a smell and sets it aside.
When he exposes the false bottom of the drawer he puzzles at the lead lining. "That's dumb," he mutters. "Why would someone make a secret drawer heavier and easier to find?"
His response of, "Ohh!" to Malkith's warning signifies some gleaned understanding.
"Koro!" he exclaims softly as he uses the scarf to pull out the two vials without touching them. "I doubt she'd run off without these. There's only one more thing we need now. I think we'll be staying over tonight."
"Little Scarlet's motivations and reasoning are a mystery," Malkith agrees. He reaches down to take the vials from Braddon while gesturing to the dust still in the drawer, "Can you collect some of that? We'll need to get these things identified, but I suspect we've found the evidence we need." He carefully tucks the vials away in a pocket before resuming his divination of the room's contents.
"Little Scarlet's motivations and reasoning are a mystery," Malkith agrees. He reaches down to take the vials from Braddon while gesturing to the dust still in the drawer, "Can you collect some of that? We'll need to get these things identified, but I suspect we've found the evidence we need." He carefully tucks the vials away in a pocket before resuming his divination of the room's contents.
"That dust is of Diamond. Leave it's gathering to the subtlety and precision of my prestidigitation. Though unlike the vials, I imagine it's value is more of plunder than proof. The vials, rather the opposite. If they are, what woe we think, I'd as soon they were destroyed after they provide their witness." A bitterness is plain in his voice.
Phillip nods appreciatively "You've some talent then, took me a while when I first started... if you'd like to keep learning I can show you some sleights with coin and card?" Apart from that Phil sees to enjoying the soak with Ethel, exchanging small talk and scrubbing brush. He doesn't overtly raise talk of the bluff at the entry unless queried.
As Gristav turns his cantrip to the painstaking collection of the grains of diamond dust, Braddon examines the rest of the room. The metal stand is arched like a shepherd's hook, the finish on the bronze slightly scraped and marred where something has habitually hung from it; the presence of the seed husks and feather-fluff beneath it make it easy to surmise that the missing item is a cage for a bird.
Many things are missing from the room in Braddon's estimation: the bird and its cage, a hairbrush, the actual perfume, the scent of which lingers in the apartment; the drawers themselves seem half-emptied. Of course, if Lil lives here only part-time, it would make sense that she wouldn't keep everything in one place.
He moves on to the bed, carefully moving the pillows and running his hands over the sheets and under the mattress to search for concealed items. Buried beneath the pile of pillows he finds a pair of manacles. He is about to rejoin the others in the middle of the room when a knothole on the wall behind the bed catches his eye; its edges aren't rough and natural like most knotholes but appear smoothed as if with frequent use. Moving to the back wall, he examines it before carefully inserting a finger; almost instantly, he feels a tiny catch give way beneath the pressure and a portion of the wall swings open. The room beyond is a dusty storage room, but a path has been cleared through the clutter to a staircase leading down. The only light is what is spilling through the doorway from the lamp in Lil's flat.
"Well... can it open from either side? That should be a first test. With a reserve here to open after an interval, perhaps on a tapping."
At Gristav's suggestion, Braddon makes the attempt, taking a moment to examine the other side of the door before closing it. The hinges are on the storage room side, as is a conventional latch; the door is concealed only from Lil's side. He closes the door and is momentarily in the dark, but the mechanism works smoothly as he pushes down the handle and opens the door from the opposite side.
Phillip nods appreciatively "You've some talent then, took me a while when I first started... if you'd like to keep learning I can show you some sleights with coin and card?"
Ethel seems pleased by his appraisal and eagerly agrees to further lessons back at the Goblin. "You can't imagine how difficult it was, 'yes-madam'ing Betta and her frumpy clients all day," she complains. "I mean, I suppose it was always tedious ... but now that I'm 'astray,'" she splashes him playfully, "it's hard to go back to walking the beaten path."
The pair finish their bath and climb out of the pool, still behind the shelter of their curtain. Once dried and dressed, they emerge, damp hair slicked back, and head back toward the stairs. Phil notices the strawberry-blonde attendant watching Ethel's departure with a thoughtful smirk.