Arnando shakes his head with a smile. "It's what the crew call her. You know shipboard: Everyone gets a nickname. Never knew she had a name her mother gave her."
"I'm guessing Josper Creesy told you there's men interested in the particulars of the Cloud. Cas Cazynsik's one of them. I'd hate to think that, in doing you a good turn, I'd done Creesy a bad one. I suppose Cas has made you an offer for information about the ship. I'm hoping it's not money under the table that's paying to restore your strength."
"If I've my way, you'll have done Creesy the service he deserves, and Cazynsik too. And I've no plans to have gold of this; I'd rather have left everyone better. I'm far too loose with coin, so I've learned to invest in people. It's one of those, the dwarf I mentioned, promising payment for this bite's beatific balm. Though if the weakness will pass overnight, I'll weather it?"
"The largest temple of the gods perhaps... but there is mass worship nightly in Free Coin to graven images of many colors. But from your words..." casting his mind back to what he knew of the Dome in Magnimar "...you imply that common thugs, selective whores and petty slights are stock in trade" sighing, then taking a sip of port in the pause "A pity... I had hoped for more ambition."
A flicker of affront ruffles her countenance; he has succeeded in wounding her pride. "We have no need for 'thugs' here, as we have no rivals. We leave mere muscle to the street gangs and crime lords. Nor is our prostitution elitist, as in Magnimar; we turn away no one save those who mistreat our disciples. Riddleport has neither judges nor lawyers; when people are wronged, they appeal to our high priestess for vengeance. Nowhere outside elven lands does the temple of Calistria enjoy such supremacy. Thank you, Taffy; that will be all," she dismisses the halfling as an afterthought.
The name of the halfling is not lost upon Phillip, but his attention is wholly upon Esmeralda... knowing that now that her pride was affronted she would potentially be searching for a reason to prove her ascendancy. He raises his port glass and gives a nodding admission of genuine praise "See, now that is nothing as to the role of the Dome in Magnimar... and shows that there should be little reason for me to fear for competition in intent. I have no interest in pleasures of the flesh that are bought, and no interest in revenge except against those that slight me directly." sipping his port once more and wryly smiling as he adds finally "And I have no pretension to become a common thug."
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"If I've my way, you'll have done Creesy the service he deserves, and Cazynsik too. And I've no plans to have gold of this; I'd rather have left everyone better. I'm far too loose with coin, so I've learned to invest in people. It's one of those, the dwarf I mentioned, promising payment for this bite's beatific balm. Though if the weakness will pass overnight, I'll weather it?"
He frowns. "Not overnight, not as weak as you're looking. It might take the best part of a seven-day before you're back to normal. I can't promise that I can set you right, either; but I ought at least speed up the process." He takes a bottle from a cupboard and pours a shot of amber liquid into a glass. "Here. Sit still, hold that, and drink it when I tell you." He positions two fingers over the remains of the wound, clears his throat, and recites, "Strength to your body and health to your soul, ale in your tankard and broth in your bowl." With a nod, he indicates that Gristav should drink down his glass.
...I can't promise that I can set you right, either; but I ought at least speed up the process."[/b] He takes a bottle from a cupboard and pours a shot of amber liquid into a glass. "Here. Sit still, hold that, and drink it when I tell you." He positions two fingers over the remains of the wound, clears his throat, and recites, "Strength to your body and health to your soul, ale in your tankard and broth in your bowl." With a nod, he indicates that Gristav should drink down his glass.
Gristav quaffs the required dose, and feels his strength return with the liquor's burn. "Ha-ha!", he celebrates, embracing Arnando, leaving no doubt of his recovered strength. "And it's all four you've given, my fine fellow! ...friar? ...friend?" Gristav steps to recover his now-lightened staff, then turns back for the answer, repeating the question, "May I? Call you friend? I suppose I've not established my bona fides so well as you have yours..."
"'Balla....' You mean Bellamy?" she realizes.
"Any messages for me? Little old Varisian ladies walking through? Lil? Hey, where can I find an expert on the Boneyard?""You mean Pharasma's judgment? I suppose Arnando might offer you spiritual counsel... or do you mean all the shipwrecks over the eastern ridge? There's a half-orc lives out there, but they say he doesn't like people -- why he lives in a junkyard, I suppose. "
"Bellamy. That was it. Still learning everyone in this town. Thanks."
Braddon listens intently as Elalie continues."There's a half-orc out the Boneyard way? Is he a magic user? Has anyone ever died there?"
"This is Riddleport," she says flatly. "I'd lay good money that someone's died everywhere. The Boneyard has a bad reputation; said to be haunted by the ghost of a sea captain who lost his ship to the moneylenders. If anyone disappears out that way, it's chalked up to Captain Cullie. Of course, there's any number of folks in this town happy to take a knife to a person, sink the body in the brine, and let the ghost take the credit."
"I've never laid eyes on Hyram Krooge myself. Haven't heard that he's anything but a miserable old recluse. They say he has a ramshackle hut at the edge of the cliff where the garbage is dumped, all built and furnished from Riddleport's cast-off leavings; keeps a bonfire burning, day and night, summer and winter, with what he scavenges from the trash and the rotting ships. If anyone in Riddleport could tell you more about him, it'd be Boss Croat; he's head of the half-orcs in town, but he doesn't hand out audiences like candy on a feast-day. Or the ratcatchers might be familiar with him, if you can get a civil word out of them."
"May I? Call you friend? I suppose I've not established my bona fides so well as you have yours..."
"I like to think I'll call any man 'friend' until he gives me a reason not to," he replies, offering a broad hand to clasp. "Like not paying his tab," he winks. "Here," he tears a scrap of parchment and scrawls across it with a quill before folding it and handing it to Gristav. "You give that to your friend. If he wants to discuss installments, or payment in kind, well, you know where to find me."
Raising an eyebrow, Snake finds the halfling's information interesting. "Hyram Krooge, hm? Sounds like a winner. Say, where would we find this Boss Croat person? Or I guess these ratcatcher folk? Sounds like they'd be a bit easier to speak to than this Boss guy."
"Oh, it does speak," Eulalie winks at Snake. "Boss Croat's compound is nestled up in the cleft of the ridge in Leeward, but it's locked up tighter than an Abadaran Banker's last copper. Only way anyone without orc blood gets in is by invitation or in custody. You can find the ratcatchers easy enough in the alleys at night, though you're risking brigands finding you as well. Ziphras makes his rounds on Stardays collecting from the local businessmen for his lads' services."
He raises his port glass and gives a nodding admission of genuine praise "See, now that is nothing as to the role of the Dome in Magnimar... and shows that there should be little reason for me to fear for competition in intent. I have no interest in pleasures of the flesh that are bought, and no interest in revenge except against those that slight me directly." sipping his port once more and wryly smiling as he adds finally "And I have no pretension to become a common thug."
Reasonably mollified by his praise, Esmeralda settles back into her settee. "I am glad to hear it. May I ask in return where your interests do lie?"
Taffy crosses back to the door, where she pauses a moment before exiting the room, obviously trying to catch Phillip's eye, however briefly.
"May I? Call you friend? I suppose I've not established my bona fides so well as you have yours...""I like to think I'll call any man 'friend' until he gives me a reason not to," he replies, offering a broad hand to clasp. "Like not paying his tab," he winks. "Here," he tears a scrap of parchment and scrawls across it with a quill before folding it and handing it to Gristav. "You give that to your friend. If he wants to discuss installments, or payment in kind, well, you know where to find me."
Gristav takes the hand firmly, then the invoice, with scant attention, as though it were not his business. But he asks, "What sort of payment would be in kind? I've no miracles, but magics and middling martial might. I'm sure you don't have the typical 'rats in the basement' problem, but I like to think I can solve problems..." Gristav frowns, "Though this latest appears intractable. There's an old woman missing, I can't seem to find. Part of a larger story (isn't everything?), but to my mind, an important part. If she's on a lark, the story fades to relative innocence, even with the blood spilled to date. If she's otherwise... I suppose it gets to be a much darker tale. I... should get back to that. Thank you, Arnando."
Taffy's wandering eyes find no succor within Phillip's focused gaze. He swirls the port in it's glass once, twice, thrice before shrugging and gesturing non-committally "My interests lie mainly where they should... close to one's self." combining his next words with a flourish that changes his empty hand to one bearing a golden coin "My purse is barren and I would see it fuller."
"I've no interest in pleasures of the flesh that are bought with coin, and neither would I seek to rent out my acts of vengeance... those I save for those that would slight me directly or my purpose indirectly." draining the rest of the port and grimacing slightly as he swallows "I will not be beholden, nor would I expect any kindness from this nest of wasps... but know that I am here." his final word suffused with intent. Phillip intended it as a warning fairly made and without any latent slight carried with it. A marker placed in the sand, such that it would be known to be there if crossed... and free Phillip's hand to strike with all the flensing force of his patron's whip if it came to it.
Taffy departs, presumably discontent.
Esmeralda narrows her eyes, not altogether pleased with Phillip's tone. "What have you to gain by standing apart from us?" she asks. "You would be welcome to join us and fear neither want nor penury."
----------------------
In the morning room of the Publican House, Gristav re-emerges from the door at the end of the bar, looking much haler than when he entered the building.
Phillip smiles somewhat wearily "The proper question is What do I have to lose by becoming beholden? I will be no tool for this temple, to be used and discarded when I hold no further benefit."
Esmeralda frowns, then nods. "Fair enough," she allows. "You come from Magnimar and can only judge by what you've seen, but I believe you'll find that our high priestess takes care of her own. You are welcome to come and go. Speak to our people, and ask if they are satisfied. Better yet, speak to those who have gone out from us and see if they have complaints." She gets to her feet. "In the meantime, feel free to finish your drink and avail yourself of our hospitality. I trust we will see you again, Phillip." She opens the door to the hallway and, unless she is called back, seems ready to leave the halfling alone in the room with his port.
Braddon looks from Eulalie to Snake and grins. "I've met a rat catcher already. Seemed a decent bloke. Was grateful for a few coppers. Maybe I can find him and give him a few more."
As Gristav re-emerges Braddon's grin subsides.
"Oh, is it time to go already," he asks unable to hide his disappointment. "Where are we heading?"
Phillip stands as Esmeralda takes her leave, proffering a bow and this time taking his eyes off of her for a few moments as he dips. With a wry smirk he adds "I shall not be a stranger, fare you well Esmeralda." watching her leave before remaining standing and spinning a slow circle to take in the room as he places his emptied glass upon the desk.
Braddon looks from Eulalie to Snake and grins. "I've met a rat catcher already. Seemed a decent bloke. Was grateful for a few coppers. Maybe I can find him and give him a few more."
As Gristav re-emerges Braddon's grin subsides.
"Oh, is it time to go already," he asks unable to hide his disappointment. "Where are we heading?"
Gristav smiles as Braddon sobers. "Well, I wouldn't want to end any party that went so well. For myself, I've a crock to return, perhaps a man to meet, and, hopefully, an old woman to find? I don't know what else is pressing. I've heard it said by some that duty is a crock, but in this case, the crock is a duty. But only mine. If you're enjoying the company, continue. I've no further need for support", Gristav says, looking from Braddon to Snake, "Or shade", and grinning.
"Are you heading for Lubbertown to ask questions about Gramma? Do you speak Varisi?"
Braddon turns to Snake. "Do you? It may help with our questions."
"Are you heading for Lubbertown to ask questions about Gramma? Do you speak Varisi?"
Braddon turns to Snake. "Do you? It may help with our questions."
"I speak Varisi like a Caravari; I would get by. But I am headed first for the Goblin; we forgot the crock. And then, for the Three-Billed Duck, the crock is theirs. I plan to meet a clever gnome, and to contract his assistance in finding your grandmother. I expect he and I will find aught of useful interest up a certain flight of stairs, and perhaps across from a certain tearoom. I promised you, I would not give up on her.", Gristav says warmly. "I will not."
Once he's alone, Phil takes a moment to look around the room. It's not large, and virtually every visible surface is veiled or upholstered in shades of mauve and gold, giving the impression of a silk-lined jewel box. The rug on the floor is plush, the matching settees are cushioned in velvet with gilded frames, and the round table between them is gilt to match. Plump, tasseled cushions are scattered around the room, and the walls are invisible beneath silken veils draped from a canopy on the ceiling.
"Oh, it does speak," Eulalie winks at Snake. "Boss Croat's compound is nestled up in the cleft of the ridge in Leeward, but it's locked up tighter than an Abadaran Banker's last copper. Only way anyone without orc blood gets in is by invitation or in custody. You can find the ratcatchers easy enough in the alleys at night, though you're risking brigands finding you as well. Ziphras makes his rounds on Stardays collecting from the local businessmen for his lads' services."
Snake raises an eyebrow at the halfling before a grin forms upon his features. "I like you, little lady. Can I take you home?" he asks rhetorically, grinning. "Braddon, give this pretty little lady something for her trouble; she's been a perfect help," he gives a slight nod in thanks to her.
"Are you heading for Lubbertown to ask questions about Gramma? Do you speak Varisi?" Braddon turns to Snake. "Do you? It may help with our questions."
Thinking about it as Gristav responds first, "It's possible. I'd have to hear it to know for sure," he answers after Gristav is finished talking.
Phillip keeps his investigations purely visual, before walking slowly upon the remembered course towards the exit.
Snake raises an eyebrow at the halfling before a grin forms upon his features. "I like you, little lady. Can I take you home?" he asks rhetorically, grinning. "Braddon, give this pretty little lady something for her trouble; she's been a perfect help," he gives a slight nod in thanks to her.
"I offered to buy her a drink or two and she reckons she can drink here for free. So I offered to stay here with her and got told I couldn't. It's like they don't trust me." Braddon winks at Eulalie.
"Are you heading for Lubbertown to ask questions about Gramma? Do you speak Varisi?" Braddon turns to Snake. "Do you? It may help with our questions."Thinking about it as Gristav responds first, "It's possible. I'd have to hear it to know for sure," he answers after Gristav is finished talking.
"You don't know what languages you speak? Wow, you must be a genius. Sam knows so many languages she can barely keep track of them either."
"I speak Varisi like a Caravari; I would get by. But I am headed first for the Goblin; we forgot the crock. And then, for the Three-Billed Duck, the crock is theirs. I plan to meet a clever gnome, and to contract his assistance in finding your grandmother. I expect he and I will find aught of useful interest up a certain flight of stairs, and perhaps across from a certain tearoom. I promised you, I would not give up on her.", Gristav says warmly. "I will not."
Braddon smiles back warmly.
"Thank you... Wait a beat? How's a gnome gonna find Gramma? Does he do magic? Can he find the necklace too? Or did he sell Mescher the necklace and he knows who else is after it?"
Snake raises an eyebrow at the halfling before a grin forms upon his features. "I like you, little lady. Can I take you home?" he asks rhetorically, grinning. "Braddon, give this pretty little lady something for her trouble; she's been a perfect help," he gives a slight nod in thanks to her."I offered to buy her a drink or two and she reckons she can drink here for free. So I offered to stay here with her and got told I couldn't. It's like they don't trust me." Braddon winks at Eulalie.
"They're positioned such that trust is a greater than usual hazard, and even simple leisure might be irresponsibility.", Gristav says, smiling at Eulalie in hopeful apology for speaking of her and Arnando in the third and fourth person. "But to buy a lady a drink, one usually hosts her somewhere away from where she serves them. Shall I De Bergerac for you? Eulalie's kindness inspires, it would be my pleasure, once I was clear on yours and hers."
"I speak Varisi like a Caravari; I would get by. But I am headed first for the Goblin; we forgot the crock. And then, for the Three-Billed Duck, the crock is theirs. I plan to meet a clever gnome, and to contract his assistance in finding your grandmother. I expect he and I will find aught of useful interest up a certain flight of stairs, and perhaps across from a certain tearoom. I promised you, I would not give up on her.", Gristav says warmly. "I will not."Braddon smiles back warmly.
"Thank you... Wait a beat? How's a gnome gonna find Gramma? Does he do magic? Can he find the necklace too? Or did he sell Mescher the necklace and he knows who else is after it?"
"The Gnome has a hound, and experience in such matters, or so I am told. With a particular distinctive scent in the puzzle, perhaps the hound's a better man for the job?"
"Is it a magical hound, 'cause the scent is four days old and it rained last night."
Braddon sighs. "Fine. The Goblin it is. Sam suggested asking round Lubbertown. And maybe we could ask the General where he got the necklace from. It must be pretty special for it to cause so much trouble."
"Is it a magical hound, 'cause the scent is four days old and it rained last night."
Braddon sighs. "Fine. The Goblin it is. Sam suggested asking round Lubbertown. And maybe we could ask the General where he got the necklace from. It must be pretty special for it to cause so much trouble."
"The timing cannot be helped, and the roofs might have helped the rain. Also, when your hand is played out, shuffle. You, I, Mal, Den... why not another? Or his hound? I want to know how dark this tale is. I'm not content with assuming the worst, and then measuring our actions against that."
Having looked but not touched, Phillip departs the room for the corridor, which he finds empty. Turning back the way he came, he retraces his steps down the hallway to the public nave. As he opens the door, the first thing his eye falls on is a circular couch in the shade of a potted tropical plant; seated on it is Taffy Plimpton, who hops up promptly when she sees him and crosses quickly to his elbow, apparently ready to walk beside him as he exits the temple. "What does a girl have to do to wangle an second glance from you, hm?" she murmurs archly.
Snake raises an eyebrow at the halfling before a grin forms upon his features. "I like you, little lady. Can I take you home?" he asks rhetorically, grinning. "Braddon, give this pretty little lady something for her trouble; she's been a perfect help," he gives a slight nod in thanks to her.
"I offered to buy her a drink or two and she reckons she can drink here for free. So I offered to stay here with her and got told I couldn't. It's like they don't trust me." Braddon winks at Eulalie.
"They're positioned such that trust is a greater than usual hazard, and even simple leisure might be irresponsibility.", Gristav says, smiling at Eulalie in hopeful apology for speaking of her and Arnando in the third and fourth person. "But to buy a lady a drink, one usually hosts her somewhere away from where she serves them. Shall I De Bergerac for you? Eulalie's kindness inspires, it would be my pleasure, once I was clear on yours and hers."
Eulalie snorts. "And if I were to accept every young man's proposition who made me one, a fine kettle of fish the Publican would be in! You think Arnando can run this place by himself while I'm entertaining my many admirers?" She winks back at Braddon.
Eulalie snorts. "And if I were to accept every young man's proposition who made me one, a fine kettle of fish the Publican would be in! You think Arnando can run this place by himself while I'm entertaining my many admirers?" She winks back at Braddon.
"If he could, we certainly wouldn't want him to find out.", Gristav jokes.
With a slight sigh Phillip turns to regard Taffy for the first time, stopping as he does so. His face is dispassionate, and his eye lingers not at areas where a hot-blooded one's would - instead taking in her demeanour and attire entire. His elbow remains un-offered and he responds measuredly "And if that glance we're offered... what would be your rejoinder? An invitation to linger and take in what the Baths have to offer with you as willing guide?" shaking his head in mild reproach.
"You would do best to save your swagger for when Olin Britt next calls upon your services. He would be appreciative, he would pay you well in both compliment and currency. I will do neither..." holding a steady gaze upon Taffy Plimpton "If this is at the behest of your mistresses... you can inform them that their ploy to place you as their agent for secrets is ill advised... If this is at your own behest, then you need more practice at choosing your mark."
[/b]Eulalie snorts. "And if I were to accept every young man's proposition who made me one, a fine kettle of fish the Publican would be in! You think Arnando can run this place by himself while I'm entertaining my many admirers?" She winks back at Braddon.
Braddon grins.
"If you were to accept every young man's proposition, the Publican would never be empty. No wonder you don't let us stay." Braddon bows low and retreats."A pleasure again, Miss Lalie. I better go pretend to work."
With a wave, Braddon follows Gristav back to the Gold Goblin.
Snake tips his hat to the halfling, "Ata a próxima, moi mocinha." With that, Snake falls in step behind the others.
"Until next time, pretty little lady."
Taking their leave from the Publican House, the three men start to walk back up the west bank of the Velashu to the ferry. Although the top of the Cyphergate is still shrouded in low cloud, the sun is a fierce smudge climbing the eastern sky and looks well on its way to burning off the overcast by the afternoon. They cross the river and return through the back door of the Gold Goblin.
The casino is quiet, save for a bit of bustle and the quiet clank of bottles from the bar; while Gristav collects the borrowed crockery, the others glance down the corridor to see that the delivered crates are opened and Covey Smith is behind the bar arranging the bottles. "Ahoy," he greets them with a nod. "You just missed the lot of them; the redhead came back, and they all left again. She left a note, though." He hands them a folded paper from the counter; it is addressed in Samaritha's hand to Braddon.
-------------------------
With a slight sigh Phillip turns to regard Taffy for the first time, stopping as he does so. His face is dispassionate, and his eye lingers not at areas where a hot-blooded one's would - instead taking in her demeanour and attire entire. His elbow remains un-offered and he responds measuredly "And if that glance were offered... what would be your rejoinder? An invitation to linger and take in what the Baths have to offer with you as willing guide?" shaking his head in mild reproach.
"You would do best to save your swagger for when Olin Britt next calls upon your services. He would be appreciative, he would pay you well in both compliment and currency. I will do neither..." holding a steady gaze upon Taffy Plimpton "If this is at the behest of your mistresses... you can inform them that their ploy to place you as their agent for secrets is ill advised... If this is at your own behest, then you need more practice at choosing your mark."
Phillip catches a flash of affront and wounded pride in Taffy's eyes before she smiles again. "Is it so wrong to want to greet a newcomer?" she asks lightly. "A new halfling in town, when I've seen all the others so many times before ... isn't it natural to show an interest? Besides," she nods to his holy symbol, "I've never met a halfling who was also a priest. There's no reason we can't have a friendly conversation, is there?"
A smug grin crosses Braddon's face as he takes Samaritha's note to him and carefully opens it. But the colour quickly drains from his face as he reads and when he's finished he shoves the note away from him like it was poison.
"Captain Cullie was searching for me last night. It sounds like he took the same route we did. He must have been following my trail. And there were others with him. Ghost riders in the night. Stars of Desna save me. What am I going to do?"
Showing no diminishing of resolve despite insistence "I am no priest... to bear the bladed circle does not mean one need proselytize or seek office divine. Though if you wish for conversation, tell me... why are you a whore?" words spilling simply from his mouth as though he were asking about the weather.
Snake takes the note, reading over it. Once finished, "We gotta deal with this ghost Captain. You bubs know anyone who knows how to do that? If not, maybe I could talk to it. Strike some kinda deal or something."
"I am no priest... to bear the bladed circle does not mean one need proselytize or seek office divine. Though if you wish for conversation, tell me... why are you a whore?"
If she is taken aback by the directness of the question, it is not for long. "Do you ask a store keeper why he is a merchant?" she shrugs. "Or a baker why he makes bread? I judged it the best opportunity for myself. I don't have to worry about room and board, I don't have to go out in the rain or wind or heat, and I have more free time to enjoy than if I were doing other people's laundry or mopping their floors or cooking their meals. What are you then, if not a priest, and why have you come to Riddleport?"
Snake takes the note, reading over it. Once finished, "We gotta deal with this ghost Captain. You bubs know anyone who knows how to do that? If not, maybe I could talk to it. Strike some kinda deal or something."
"Bubs?", Gristav asked, smiling at the term as he set down the crock. Reading the note, he kept smiling, until he looked up to see Braddon's distress. "Braddon, this is not..." Gristav struggled to work the problem out, find the one argument Braddon would accept. Failing that, he resorted to reason.
"People are talking, that's what the note says. So, someone saw something. But what did they see? Something less than got repeated, because that's how repetition works. They saw you, is my supposition, and the others riding with you. And spoke of it, where it combined with the legend, and became in the retelling, him."
"Now, gather your fragment of handkerchief, and let me return this crock?"
"Bubs?"
"I would ask a beggar why he panhandles, and a farmer why he ploughs... for the answer is interesting is it not? There is more to the Book of Joy than the illustrations... if you had read it properly you might understand."
Looking up now and making half preparations to continue upon the walk that he was following prior to interruption "I am Phillip, and I am here because I have chosen to stay."
"Bubs?"
Snake raises the back of his hat to scratch his head, pondering the question. "Fellas, then?" he asks, shrugging.
"People are talking, that's what the note says. So, someone saw something. But what did they see? Something less than got repeated, because that's how repetition works. They saw you, is my supposition, and the others riding with you. And spoke of it, where it combined with the legend, and became in the retelling, him."
"Now, gather your fragment of handkerchief, and let me return this crock?"
Braddon breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, that was me. I see. Desna keep me, that's a relief. I'm going out to find that half-orc and see what he knows later. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Or even next week if I get the time. And a... friend I need to visit too. But yeah. For now, we hunt."
From his pocket, after a brief rummage, Braddon triumphantly pulls a dirty square of cloth that may once have been a handkerchief. Torn on two sides, damp and musty, it hangs limply from Braddon's proud fingers."Dayn and Malkith found it," he explains to Snake. "It was Lil's but they found it on the guy that attacked on Sunday. At his place or something. Dayne gave me half and I recognised it as the smell at Ananda's flat, the kid that Gramma was looking after. So I gave half to her father. The rest took a bit of a swim with me yesterday when Dayn and I got that letter to Lil the scribe wrote. It'll be fine." Braddon passes the miserable fabric to Gristav.
"Bubs?"Snake raises the back of his hat to scratch his head, pondering the question. "Fellas, then?" he asks, shrugging.
"Bubs is fine. He doesn't change his talk, why should you change yours? He understood."
Holding the abused scrap of fine cloth by a single corner, Gristav glances up distractedly. "Bubs is fine. An unfamiliar term. Yes, don't change for me. Now that it's known, it's..." His attention back on the scrap, Gristav sighs, and pockets the tatter. "We can work around that."
Picking up the crock in one arm, Gristav slings his staff, and leads the way to the Three-Billed Duck.
"Now, don't tell everyone, but there is something very special about this hound we are to meet...", Gristav alludes with a mischievous smile.
Snake nods to the resolved terminology issue. "So we're going to see The Gnome about a special hound. Sounds interesting."
"Well, not the Gnome, in some sort of crimelord monicker sense. A particular gnome, Natinilinus Greatreve, who, together with his hound, Sludge, apparently makes their living as an investigator."
"We'll hopefully run into him at the Duck, from where I brought yestereve's stew. I promised the hosts the return of their crock, and I would not think a lunch might be amiss. I expect you, Snake, will be quite welcome, on stature alone."
"And, for peculiarly fey reasons of my own, I'm trying to convice the housemistress that I want to keep it a secret from her, that the hound is something more than a simple dog. As I said... Fey." Gristav says this last word with notes of dismissive derision, defeat, and delight.
"I would ask a beggar why he panhandles, and a farmer why he ploughs... for the answer is interesting is it not? There is more to the Book of Joy than the illustrations... if you had read it properly you might understand."
Looking up now and making half preparations to continue upon the walk that he was following prior to interruption "I am Phillip, and I am here because I have chosen to stay."
Taffy doesn't make any further move to press her company on someone who clearly doesn't want it, but before he leaves, she asks quietly, "Are you so dismissive of everyone, or do you dislike me in particular for some reason?"
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Braddon, Gristav, and Snake walk through the streets of Leeward District on their way to the Three Billed Duck. They pass the massive circular Mystery of the Gate and cross Leeward Common, its open-air market busy with merchants and shoppers. Leaving behind the market stalls, they keep heading up into the cul-de-sac formed by the rocky fold in the eastern ridge of the town. On the right, they pass the boarding house where Anya and Lexy reside, and Braddon can't help but glance up at the windows of the upper story, wondering if either of them might be at home. Up ahead, on the left side of the street, Gristav spies the iron railing around the outside dining area of the Crispins' tavern. On such a damp and gray morning, with the lunching hour not yet arrived, it's not surprising that the tables in the courtyard are empty.
Phillip chuckles not entirely with mirth, but not necessarily with cruelty, and responds "This is a house of sin... why should I think that any but sinners dwell here?" before continuing to stalk away from Taffy and towards the relative safety of the streets of Riddleport.
Phillip regains the outside of the temple without being further accosted. Standing in the plaza among the leather-clad toughs and girls on display, he sees that the sun has climbed almost to its zenith; it is approximately an hour before noon.
"Oyez!", Gristav calls, crossing the courtyard. "The crock has returned!" Grinning he adds, "...and he's brought the pottery."