Exiting the riverfront tavern, the halfling gazes up toward the sky past the Cyphergate. The sun is at its zenith behind the thin veil of the remaining clouds, its diffused light stabbing at his eyes so that he has to squint and interpose a hand to search out that particular section of the heavens, but it seems that he spies something dark lurking behind the overcast. It seems nearer ... or larger.
Phillip notes the eyes of the chelish halfling upon him... but shows no sign of taking any notice or interest. With a wry smile he noted that his reputation seemed to be brewing in the background... but he wasn't sure if the blackness of it was truly deserved... yet.
Eyes squinted against the sun he noted the growing smear with both confusion and concern. A flirtatious thought crossed his mind to approach the Cypherlodge again and test wills and wiles with Bromathon... but the thought was just as quickly quelled. At a slight loss of what to do with himself... he ambled towards the river and began tracking it's banks northwards towards the ferry.
Both Braddon and Gristav can hear something moving upstairs, neither particularly loud nor particularly stealthy.
With a glance at Gristav, Braddon slides his short sword from its sheath and makes his way quietly upstairs.
Gristav raises his hand in a gesture intended to pause Braddon's upfiltration of the staircase. "I'm sure you've every expectation of being welcome.", he tells Braddon. "Do let them know we've come to help." Lowering his voice, relying on nearby elven ears, he glares at the sword, and whispers at Braddon, "Put that away. The girl is home, and you're a hero. Just try to bring her down fully dressed?", Gristav asks, grinning.
Snake moves in with the others, taking note of the place, and watches Braddon draw his weapon while Gristav attempts to talk him out of it. I wonder who's up there that's worth killin'. This ought to be interesting.
As Braddon climbs the stairwell, Sludge sets his nose to the floorboards and snuffles about with interest while the gnome sidles up to Gristav. "Where ought we to be sniffing? Which rooms belong to the missing beldam?"
Braddon gestures to the door on the right for Natinilinus with his free hand."Through the sitting room on the right is the servant's bedroom. Gramma would of been there."
Ignoring Gristav, Braddon continues to follow his sword up the stairs.
Gristav smilingly gestures Natinilinus through, before following Braddon up the stairs with a helpless shrug at Snake, Gristav's eyes flicking after the gnome, in request.
Natinilinus calls Sludge to follow him into the servant's rooms while Gristav follows Braddon up the staircase into the sitting room where the general's daughter had been served the tainted tea. The doors to the private dining room and the two bedrooms are slightly ajar; the sound of movement seems to be coming from Ananda's bedroom.
----------------------
Meanwhile, Phillip is pleased to discover that the thought of interfering with the Cyphermages is no longer quelled by the foreign suggestion that leaving them to their own devices is the better option: He is free of Mistress Bromathan's compulsion. Nevertheless, he turns his steps in the opposite direction of his own inclination, following the Velashu northward. Most of the buildings he passes are boarded up and dilapidated, but he notes a few going businesses, including the metalsmith's shop he browsed for a dagger and a building marked as a tannery as much by the foul odors wafting from it as the sign in front of it. He spies a decrepit boat anchored in the midst of the river and recognizes the same grizzled fisherman who ferried him across the river his first morning in Riddleport.
...Gristav follows Braddon up the staircase into the sitting room where the general's daughter had been served the tainted tea. The doors to the private dining room and the two bedrooms are slightly ajar; the sound of movement seems to be coming from Ananda's bedroom.
Gristav has a definite opinion against stealth, but he's not sure Braddon doesn't have some greater understanding of the house. Weighing the risks to himself against those to the unmet Ananda, and never having been happy with bared steel, it takes Gristav all of the stairs and most of the sitting room before he bubbles, "Good of you to agree to make the introductions, Braddon.", in his habitual gregarious tones. "But it seems she may not be at home?"
The sight of the grizzled fisherman casts Phillip's week into stark bas-relief. With a wry smile on his lips and a tiredness behind his eyes he moves to hail the man "Ho boatman... how goes the fishing?"
Braddon doesn't reply to Gristav and doesn't slow. Keeping his weight on his toes for stealth and agility, he approaches the ajar door and peers through over the tip of the sword.
Gristav smilingly gestures Natinilinus through, before following Braddon up the stairs with a helpless shrug at Snake, Gristav's eyes flicking after the gnome, in request.
Snake nods casually to Gristav as he falls in step behind 'The Gnome'.
Snake follows Natinilinus and his dog into a small but neat sitting room. A table with a handful of wingback chairs stands before an empty fireplace, next to which a door leads into a modest bedroom. The gnome eagerly pushes through, with no qualms about privacy, and gives the hobnail bedspread a curious whiff. "What's the missing woman's name again?" he asks Snake. "Is she human, or elf, or half-and-half like your associate?"
Braddon follows his sword point to the threshold of Ananda's bedchamber. The first time he saw this room, it had been ransacked; the second time, the muddy boots and heedless search by the Gendarmes had added to the disarray. Now, however, the room is clean and tidy. A grim-faced woman in a lace cap is smoothing the bedspread when she hears Gristav's voice beyond the door; she looks up with sudden alarm and grabs a broom leaning against a nearby wall, wielding it defensively as she cautiously approaches the door. She hasn't seen Braddon yet but will unless he hides or steps away.
--------------------
"Ho boatman... how goes the fishing?"
The ancient mariner squints suspiciously toward the shore. "Well enough," he replies cagily. "Who wants to know?" He doesn't appear to recognize the halfling.
With a chuckle and a hand run through his mop of hair Phillip calls back "No one of consequence... unless you'd like a silver in your pocket."
Braddon pushes open the door with the tip of his sword, then sheathes it as he steps back and bows with a flourish.
"Madam. I'm Braddon. Friend to Ananda and her father."
He peers up in case he has to dodge a broom and continues as he rights himself.
"My loud companion here is Gristav, also a friend. And who might you be?"
Gristav bows to the lady at his introduction.
"Loud? Not all the world has your elfin step.", Gristav rejoins with a smile.
The woman's eyes widen at the sword; she looks as if she is gathering her breath to scream, but as Braddon sheathes the weapon and both men speak to her in a friendly manner, she opts not immediately to expend the shriek. "Friends of the general's?" she asks suspiciously. "Has he changed his mind then? Because I've not changed mine. The law's on my side, and he knows it."
----------------------
With a chuckle and a hand run through his mop of hair Phillip calls back "No one of consequence... unless you'd like a silver in your pocket."
The mention of the coin sparks an alacritous response. "Yes, sir," he replies raptly, "yes, sir, I would. What service can an old man do for you?"
Snake follows Natinilinus and his dog into a small but neat sitting room. A table with a handful of wingback chairs stands before an empty fireplace, next to which a door leads into a modest bedroom. The gnome eagerly pushes through, with no qualms about privacy, and gives the hobnail bedspread a curious whiff. "What's the missing woman's name again?" he asks Snake. "Is she human, or elf, or half-and-half like your associate?"
Snake is taken by surprise, obviously unprepared for such questions. "Well, I've heard Braddon call her, 'Gramma'. That's the only name I know." Wait a minute, does he mean his grandmother, or this Lil person? "Hold a moment: Which woman are you talking about? We've got Braddon's grandmother that's missing, and then we got this 'Lil' woman that's missing. And I've never seen either so I have no idea what race they might be. Of course, if it was mentioned I obviously must've forgot it. Is that information absolutely necessary?"
"To Sludge's nose, no," the gnome replies with an enigmatic smile. "To my eyes, yes. If you were looking for someone, it would help you to know it was a dwarf, yes? Then you would know to disregard any half-orcs. Unless!" His eyes suddenly blaze with fire. "Unless there is illusion magic afoot...," he smiles at the prospect. "You see why my associate is so invaluable. A disguise may change the leopard's spots, but it cannot change his scent." In the other room, Sludge sneezes and crawls under the bed.
Snake just stares at the gnome a moment before finally responding with, "I'll just go ask."
Snake walks out the room and up the stairs. As he makes his way up, he notices Gristav falling in behind Braddon. Moving up behind the magus, he attempts to remain quiet. "Psst! Gristav! What race is Braddon's grandmother? And what race is that 'Lil' person also? It's important, trust me; or the gnome is gonna roll with illusion magic. Did you have to hire some nut job for this?" he asks rhetorically.
Snake just stares at the gnome a moment before finally responding with, "I'll just go ask."
Snake walks out the room and up the stairs. As he makes his way up, he notices Gristav falling in behind Braddon. Moving up behind the magus, he attempts to remain quiet. "Psst! Gristav! What race is Braddon's grandmother? And what race is that 'Lil' person also? It's important, trust me; or the gnome is gonna roll with illusion magic. Did you have to hire some nut job for this?" he asks rhetorically.
"Yes, I did, he had no other prospects, and was talking to a ferret... it was a positive duty.", Gristav smiles. "Human, the grandmother, and a teifling, the other."
The woman's eyes widen at the sword; she looks as if she is gathering her breath to scream, but as Braddon sheathes the weapon and both men speak to her in a friendly manner, she opts not immediately to expend the shriek. "Friends of the general's?" she asks suspiciously. "Has he changed his mind then? Because I've not changed mine. The law's on my side, and he knows it."
"No friend, I, of the general. I was... simply asked to help. It's good to meet, in Riddleport, someone making an ally of law, instead of chaos in an alley. So, you're not Ananda, so, you are...? If I might ask?"
The mention of the coin sparks an alacritous response. "Yes, sir," he replies raptly, "yes, sir, I would. What service can an old man do for you?"
Smiling Phillip liberates a silver from his pocket and sets it dancing on his fingers, beckoning the old man to come to shore to claim it. He then gives it freely and follows with a request "I just need to make the other shore... and while we punt, you can speak of what the river's saying about the wave and the black spot that grows yonder."
A minute grin manages to find its way out as Snake nods a "well done". "Fair enough. That's clever... I like it." Turning around, he makes his way back to the gnome. "Okay, The Gnome, Braddon's grandmother is human and Lil is a tiefling. Hope that helps."
"Human female." Natinilinus raises the edge of the bedspread and tells Sludge distinctly. "Aged, I take it, to be grandmother to one half-elven." He glances toward Snake for confirmation as the dog's tail thumps firmly on the planks of the floor.
"No friend, I, of the general. I was... simply asked to help. It's good to meet, in Riddleport, someone making an ally of law, instead of chaos in an alley. So, you're not Ananda, so, you are...? If I might ask?"
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Mistress Livia Darragh," she replies with dignity, "manageress of the Harbor View and Miss Mescher's landlady. The general signed a lease for the next four months, and he's bound to pay for them. From all I hear tell, any mischief done was let in at the front door by that shiftless housekeeper and not at all the responsibility of the property-owner. If a man insists on employing untrustworthy Varisians, he can't blame proper folk for what comes of it."
-------------------
"I just need to make the other shore... and while we punt, you can speak of what the river's saying about the wave and the black spot that grows yonder."
The aged sailor drops his hook-tipped pole into the bottom of his boat, hurriedly hauls up the grapple he uses as an anchor, and sets to the oars, pulling to Phil's side of the river. Although he looks longingly at the silver coin, he reluctantly admits, "Fare to cross is only four copper at the ferry."
"Human female." Natinilinus raises the edge of the bedspread and tells Sludge distinctly. "Aged, I take it, to be grandmother to one half-elven." He glances toward Snake for confirmation as the dog's tail thumps firmly on the planks of the floor.
Snake just looks at the gnome a moment, not really sure why that's important, or why he would even ask such a question with such an obvious answer. "Yeah," he simply answers, curious as to what the next question might entail.
"No friend, I, of the general. I was... simply asked to help. It's good to meet, in Riddleport, someone making an ally of law, instead of chaos in an alley. So, you're not Ananda, so, you are...? If I might ask?"Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Mistress Livia Darragh," she replies with dignity,
Gristav straightens to allow a proper nod at what would have to serve as their introduction.
"...manageress of the Harbor View and Miss Mescher's landlady. The general signed a lease for the next four months, and he's bound to pay for them. From all I hear tell, any mischief done was let in at the front door by that shiftless housekeeper and not at all the responsibility of the property-owner. If a man insists on employing untrustworthy Varisians, he can't blame proper folk for what comes of it."
"Surely.", Gristav agrees. "I hadn't heard any hint of the matter reflecting badly on you, Mistress Darragh. Rather, we were here to learn more of the facts relating to the..." Gristav glances knit-browed at Braddon, but appears to remember, "...Vishki matron. You had said 'shiftless'. Could you elaborate? I'd hesitate to ask you to gossip, but this is... duty. She may even yet be in some danger. Or if not, the other victims of the plot better served if we might locate Mistress Vishki. It's clear you're busy here, but could you...? Could we have some of your time, and insight?"
Braddons face darkens and he takes a step forward.
"Gramma's done nothing wrong. She was bewitched and killed. We're looking for her body. Where do they stash shiftless and untrustworthy Varisians these days?"
Braddon folds his arms expectantly.
"'Killed?'" the woman repeats, outraged. "Is that the general's game: to hurt my business by spreading rumors of murder unless I tear up his lease? All that I know that happened was that the petty criminal General Mescher ensconced here to take care of his daughter took her opportunity to rob him and run off to rejoin her caravan of sharpers and con artists. If he'd locked her up in Shoreleave where she belonged and hired a proper housekeeper and governess, it never would have happened."
Phillip nods and replies "Aye... it is" to the old man's statement... but does not retract the offer of the silver.
"Braddon, perhaps if you assisted the survey downstairs?", Gristav asks tiredly. "Mistress Darragh, as I'd said earlier, I've no intimation of any dissatisfaction with your house or services on the General's behalf. The truth is, it appears another criminal may have acted against this Vishki person, in a plot against... well, that's not mine to tell. You are, very easy to talk to. I'll have to be careful.", Gristav says smiling. "Please can you tell me what you know, of this person? It's important, for this purpose, that it not be what you surmise, however intuitive you are." Gristav smiles again. "Although I suppose, if you were clear that it was surmise, that would be..." Meeting her eye, Gristav finishes, "Most agreeable."
Phillip nods and replies "Aye... it is" to the old man's statement... but does not retract the offer of the silver.
The boatman's hangdog expression instantly reverses to a broad, gap-toothed grin, and he snatches the coin with the speed and manual dexterity of a much younger man. It disappears into the ragged pocket of a decrepit pea coat, and the man kicks torn fishing nets and scraps of detritus aside to clear room for the halfling to step into the boat. "Come aboard, come aboard, sir. Mind the gap. I'll have you on the east bank before you've time to get your sea legs under you. Now, what was it you were wanting to know?"
---------------------
"Please can you tell me what you know, of this person? It's important, for this purpose, that it not be what you surmise, however intuitive you are." Gristav smiles again. "Although I suppose, if you were clear that it was surmise, that would be..." Meeting her eye, Gristav finishes, "Most agreeable."
The woman harrumphs, her gaze flickering from Braddon's threatening stance to Gristav's more conciliatory one. "She's cattle ... Varisian. I offered to find the girl a nice steady housekeeper used to the district, but the general says no, he trusts only his own hire. 'A Varisian?' I say, 'they're all tricksters and swindlers; she'll steal whatever's not nailed down.' No, he says, this one he has a term in Shoreleave to hang over her head. Well, who was right, I ask you? The house ransacked and the woman gone," she concludes in triumph.
"Braddon, perhaps if you assisted the survey downstairs?", Gristav asks tiredly.
Braddon sneers at Gristav.
"No, I'll wait right here. I'm interested to hear what else she has to say about Gramma."His arm falls to his side and the fingers flex before bunching into a fist, but he stays perfectly still and doesn't move.
Stepping aboard lightly, Phillip finds a seat amidst the bric a brac and answers "Just rumors and hearsay... bout the wave and spot of black."
The woman harrumphs, her gaze flickering from Braddon's threatening stance to Gristav's more conciliatory one. "She's cattle ... Varisian. I offered to find the girl a nice steady housekeeper used to the district, but the general says no, he trusts only his own hire. 'A Varisian?' I say, 'they're all tricksters and swindlers; she'll steal whatever's not nailed down.' No, he says, this one he has a term in Shoreleave to hang over her head. Well, who was right, I ask you? The house ransacked and the woman gone," she concludes in triumph.
"Gone, yes. But we think she was a victim. So it is perhaps better for you, that you hadn't provided the maid. Very good luck, I would say, not to have become entangled in the plot, with suspicion of the maid falling back onto you. Of course, from what we've seen, the maid was likely also a victim. There are magics at work here; please, if you remember anything, or become aware of some odd detail, later...", Gristav pauses as though he'd been rude, "Or would you prefer I contact you, instead?"
"No, I'll wait right here. I'm interested to hear what else she has to say about Gramma."
The woman looks surprised at Braddon's claim to kinship with the missing person in question, then frowns a bit contemptuously. "Hmph, shouldn't be surprised," she mutters to herself.
"Gone, yes. But we think she was a victim. So it is perhaps better for you, that you hadn't provided the maid. Very good luck, I would say, not to have become entangled in the plot, with suspicion of the maid falling back onto you. Of course, from what we've seen, the maid was likely also a victim. There are magics at work here; please, if you remember anything, or become aware of some odd detail, later...", Gristav pauses as though he'd been rude, "Or would you prefer I contact you, instead?"
"Magics?" she asked, startled. "Is the Cypherlodge involved? Listen, you tell General Mescher he signed a contract. The Harbor View's not responsible for any harm that befell the tenant or his property, so he's required to pay the agreed amount through the end of his lease, whether anyone's residing here or not."
Below, in Mistress Vashti's rooms, the gnome seems satisfied with his reconnoiter. "I believe my associate must have gotten the scent by now," he tells Snake. "Come along, Sludge; let us be on our way. Sludge ... come on. Our quarry is not under there." The dog slithers further beneath the bed, and the gnome sighs with a bit of embarrassment. "A moment," he apologizes to Snake. "My associate appears to have discovered some evidence of note. Let me confer with him briefly." He drops to the floor and slides headfirst beneath the curtain of bedspread. "Sludge! Come out! What are you--? Oh. Oh! You brilliant animal!" Natinilinus reappears from beneath the bed, grinning broadly and holding a small packet. "Hidden beneath the mattress and the slats," he explains. "And if hidden in one's own bedchamber, then hidden for a purpose that must be concealed from one's intimates? I suggest examination in a more secure locale."
"Aye, the wave," the boatman replies, using his pole to push off from the western bank before setting to the oars. "They're not unheard of. Caused by a storm on the horizon, or a landslide on some speck of an island, or an earthquake leagues off. Of course, back when I was aboard ship, you'd never know of them if you weren't in harbor when they hit. In the open sea, the swell rolls beneath you; it's only in the shoal that the wave rises up. 'Tweren't a bad one. One in Roderic's Cove some twenty years ago took half the docks into the sea and left a dinghy in the limbs of a tree three blocks inland."
"The black spot," he frowns, "'tis a bad omen, a curse. Those under the black spot die of sickness, if they don't die by the sword first. Some say Besmara can tip the spot to an entire crew, if she's displeased enough, and that's where ghost ships come from, doomed to sail the seas forever until their unhappy souls are laid to rest."
"Magics?" she asked, startled. "Is the Cypherlodge involved? Listen, you tell General Mescher he signed a contract. The Harbor View's not responsible for any harm that befell the tenant or his property, so he's required to pay the agreed amount through the end of his lease, whether anyone's residing here or not."
"What? Even if the place burns down? With a little old lady in it?"
The woman blanches. "Is that a threat?"
Phillip settles in peaceably and listens to the boatman's weathered voice... for some strange reason he feels at peace in the vessel. He nods appreciably as the tale is told, though in his heart he doesn't really listen as the words prove to not be overuseful. At the mention of Besmara, he frowns though and speaks "Doesn't seem much like the work of the Drowner to me... she usually favors the more direct approach. Cypherlodge types were all a flutter about it yesterday... mark my words there'll be more to come from it."
The rest of the words offered are banal and empty... talk of the fishing, the sea, and the ships at bay.
The woman blanches. "Is that a threat?"
"My friend can be a thug. That's why they send me with him, to hold his leash, if not his tongue. Or to clean up the mess. But such options are not currently being entertained."
Gristav faces Braddon directly. "Neither am I. Go downstairs, to her rooms, and be useful. If you need to hear your grandmother insulted, I'll do it for you, later. I need to speak with this lady, who apparently has things to say that will upset you. So, stand silent, or harumpf down the stairs."
Turning back to Mistress Darragh, Gristav applies his logical levers. "I apologize for his ill manner. His personal motivation in the moment prompts me, and I hope, you, to forgive him. He fears his grandmother was slain as a part of the events we're investigating. I hope she was not slain, but of course that leads to the question of complicity, as you have suggested." Gristav pauses, then adds, "Well, I hope you can forgive him."
"On the matter of the lease... but I should say, I'm no representative... You're entirely correct, the term of the contract is the term of the contract. I'm not qualified to speak to legal technicalities. But the matter is not as simple as the continuing lease of an empty house. Why should the house be empty? Why not occupied by other guests of the lessee? Even Varisian guests? It's a very nice house, lots of room, a bit of graze for the horses of a vardo... I'm sure he can find use for it."
"Still, it does seem the most correct, to pay through the end of the lease. If an opportunity arises, I'll broach the matter with the General. Unless you'd rather I not?"
"Aye, that's what I'm saying," Mistress Darragh replies with an unfriendly glance toward Braddon. "There's nothing wrong with the house and no reason it's not being occupied but the general's own pig-headedness. Whatever transpired here, it's no reflection on the Harbor View, and we're not to blame for it. From what I've heard, anyone who was here and oughtn't to have been was let in freely at the door. We're not responsible for our residents' invited guests; whether they ransack the place or set fires, it's not our doing. I'd be happy to have Miss Mescher back and set her up with a proper housekeeper this time, only the general says now there's been too much publicity. Whose fault is that, I ask you? Wasn't the Harbor View that sent Gendarmes in and out every door and window, trampling the flower beds. If the general wants to come live here himself, he'd be welcome, or use the space for some other purpose. But just because he chooses not to use it, doesn't mean he shouldn't have to pay the rent he agreed to, and you can tell him that for me."
------------------------
Down on the river, the fisherman seems a bit miffed that Phil isn't sufficiently impressed by his tale of ghost ships but then remembers the silver in his pocket and decides the lubber's bought the right to be dismissive. He steers the little boat to a makeshift berth alongside a pier north of the shipyard. "I've steered clear of the Cypherlodge all my days in Riddleport. Anything Elias Tammerhawk's involved in is unlikely to turn out well for anyone but himself, from what I hear. If the Cyphermages have aught to do with the wave, I'll wager you're right: that it'll get worse before it gets better. Wish you a good day, sir, in all your dealings." He closes his hand over the laden pocket, as if afraid Phillip might demand the coin back before he steps out of the boat.
"Aye, that's what I'm saying," Mistress Darragh replies with an unfriendly glance toward Braddon. "There's nothing wrong with the house and no reason it's not being occupied but the general's own pig-headedness. Whatever transpired here, it's no reflection on the Harbor View, and we're not to blame for it. From what I've heard, anyone who was here and oughtn't to have been was let in freely at the door. We're not responsible for our residents' invited guests; whether they ransack the place or set fires, it's not our doing. I'd be happy to have Miss Mescher back and set her up with a proper housekeeper this time, only the general says now there's been too much publicity. Whose fault is that, I ask you? Wasn't the Harbor View that sent Gendarmes in and out every door and window, trampling the flower beds. If the general wants to come live here himself, he'd be welcome, or use the space for some other purpose. But just because he chooses not to use it, doesn't mean he shouldn't have to pay the rent he agreed to, and you can tell him that for me."
"Well, as I said, I'm far from sure I'll be able to raise the topic at all. But arm me, on your behalf. Who would you suggest to tend the house?" Gristav sets to assisting the Mistress with whatever chores she was engaged in, while continuing his questions:
"Is this the same person suggested earlier?"
"How are they known to you?"
"And as for guests and visitors, what do you know of the previous comings and goings? I don't assume you actively watched, but a landholder has a right, even a duty, to be aware..."
"Bad turn, the publicity... If his intention was a quiet private life for his daughter... I suppose there's always the nunnery."
"Were there words on paper, of the lease agreement? Something referencable?"
"Well, as I said, I'm far from sure I'll be able to raise the topic at all. But arm me, on your behalf. Who would you suggest to tend the house?" Gristav sets to assisting the Mistress with whatever chores she was engaged in, while continuing his questions:
"Is this the same person suggested earlier?"
"How are they known to you?"
She seems to have been tidying the flat, setting to rights what was overturned and left in disarray after the original ransacker and then the investigating Gendarmes had their way with it. "A woman in my position," she explains, "I'm always put in the way of suggesting reliable staff to new tenants. I've a list of employees of solid character and sterling reputation looking for a good situation. For a young woman like Miss Mescher, I'd probably recommend Devira Simms. She worked as a private governess for the Misses Krump; getting on in years now and has no taste for the antics of youngsters any longer, but she's a steady hand and a sobering influence on a young lady in need of a maternal figure in her life. I can't say for sure if that's who I recommended when the general moved his daughter in (she might have been otherwise engaged at the time), but it would certainly have been someone of her type. Riddleport is no place for a young woman to run wild in."
"And as for guests and visitors, what do you know of the previous comings and goings? I don't assume you actively watched, but a landholder has a right, even a duty, to be aware..."
"I have to admit, I had no complaints of the Vishki woman on that account. No untoward company. No gentleman callers, either old or young, except for the general's own visits, and only deliveries coming to the doorstep. Of course, I suppose she could have been passing messages back and forth that way ... but it all appeared reputable enough."
"Bad turn, the publicity... If his intention was a quiet private life for his daughter... I suppose there's always the nunnery."
"Aye," she laughs, "in Magnimar, I suppose. The temples in Riddleport don't run to chastity. I had the feeling he was grooming her for some sort of arranged marriage. For all he's important and well-off now, he only serves on the whim of the Overlord. I'm guessing he thought to marry her to money or business and cement himself a retirement."
"Were there words on paper, of the lease agreement? Something referencable?"
"Of course," she puffs with outraged dignity. "The Harbor View's not some dockside flophouse."
Phillip makes no play for the treasured coin, instead taking his leave of the craft and spinning to tip an imaginary hat "Thanks and good day sir... I hope the fishing is kind to you for the rest of the day."
With that he begins to walk Eastwards along the riverfront, wary of surroundings but still suffused within his own thoughts.
"And as for guests and visitors, what do you know of the previous comings and goings? I don't assume you actively watched, but a landholder has a right, even a duty, to be aware...""I have to admit, I had no complaints of the Vishki woman on that account. No untoward company. No gentleman callers, either old or young, except for the general's own visits, and only deliveries coming to the doorstep. Of course, I suppose she could have been passing messages back and forth that way ... but it all appeared reputable enough."
"And yet, still your suspicion. Was there some event, some seed to that vine, or was it only her origins, earned your distrust?"
"Bad turn, the publicity... If his intention was a quiet private life for his daughter... I suppose there's always the nunnery.""Aye," she laughs, "in Magnimar, I suppose. The temples in Riddleport don't run to chastity. I had the feeling he was grooming her for some sort of arranged marriage. For all he's important and well-off now, he only serves on the whim of the Overlord. I'm guessing he thought to marry her to money or business and cement himself a retirement."
"Or perhaps more charitably, he sought a more secure future for his child than he imagined for himself?", Gristav asked rhetorically, smiling. "I'm told that sometimes happens, even in Riddleport."
"Were there words on paper, of the lease agreement? Something referencable?""Of course," she puffs with outraged dignity. "The Harbor View's not some dockside flophouse."
"No...", Gristav agreed, righting some upset furnishing or other, "But another gendarmes search or two...", he set his burden down, leaving the thought unfinished. He had another to express. "You might even prefer to be quit of such clientele. I meant no offense, asking about the written word. I was only thinking that a rescued girl's worried father's memory of events would trend more toward her first steps and last broken dolls, and less toward past business. Once calmed, and presented with such paper... well, that's what I was thinking."
Braddon's face does not uncloud with Gristav's words and he makes no attempt to hide his displeasure. He doesn't depart but remains close, unhelping, and says nothing. His presence fills the room like a bear trap.