Shadow over Riddleport

Game Master Joana

"Which raises the question: Are you empowered to take payment, in the event our plans change, and we do not return directly to the dispatcher? Because the script the scrip concealed, was for a view of the cliff walls, and another, on return to dispatch." Leaning conspiratorially, Gristav asides, "We have no intention of landing on Maskyr's Island; this was all about viewing the cliffs. You see, it's feared a body was disposed from the top, a crime we're all lending an eye toward. Well, the dog, mostly the nose, and the half-elf, most of his heart. The victim, his grand-dame." Gristav muses sorrowfully a long moment, straightening from his leaning-in, and when he next speaks, his tone is more normal. "Might I impose, Captain, on your experience of these waters? He's too young to have such a burden, not knowing... What would you think, would become of a body? Any hope for recovery?"

The skipper squirms at Gristav's confession, evidently being of the opinion that ignorance is bliss when it comes to the motivations of his passengers. "I... I wouldn't make bold to ask after your financial arrangements, sir," he smiles weakly, "and I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about any murder. Speaking solely as a sailor, sir, I'd say any living thing sunk in the harbor would be unlike to surface recognizable, not to upset anyone." His eyes flicker toward Braddon. "There's a lot of fish in the water, you see, and they're not picky about what they eat, if you get my meaning."

You would have paid your base fare to the man in the kiosk before starting down the footpath, so if you get off at Devil's Fork and don't ride back downriver, it's just the promised tip you'd have to consider the delivery of.

--------------------------

As Phil sits humming to himself, he notices a filthy-looking man in second-hand clothes entering his field of vision. Holding a ragged and shapeless cap in his hand, he is moving from door to door, knocking and giving whoever answers a snaggle-toothed leer. He visits the cobbler, the potter, and the boarding house and is rewarded for his pains at each with a grimace of distaste and a few silver coins.

Phillip maintains his recumbent pose watching the filthy one at work Beggar?... hardly if he's rewarded with silver... more likely a protection racket?... but he's a bit low grade from the looks.

He watches nonchalantly, waiting to see if the man continues upon his way or draws near to Phillip.

Natinilinus is along the port railing gazing up at the cliffs with the rest of the passengers. He nods at Braddon's reconstruction of the body's putative fall. "Could be, could be. Still, hard to tell which way something will bounce unless you've seen it. We ought to get several bodies, drop them off the terrace and observe them. Wherever most of them come to rest would be the obvious place to begin our search."

"Yeah," Braddon agrees stroking his hairless chin. "It'd work better if the body was about the same size and shape as a little old lady."

Gristav wrote:

The skipper squirms at Gristav's confession, evidently being of the opinion that ignorance is bliss when it comes to the motivations of his passengers. "I... I wouldn't make bold to ask after your financial arrangements, sir," he smiles weakly, "and I'm sure I wouldn't know anything about any murder. Speaking solely as a sailor, sir, I'd say any living thing sunk in the harbor would be unlike to surface recognizable, not to upset anyone." His eyes flicker toward Braddon. "There's a lot of fish in the water, you see, and they're not picky about what they eat, if you get my meaning."

"Yes...", Gristav acknowledges grimly. "Now, to brighter matters.", Gristav fetches by fabulous fait a pair of gleaming coins, holding an open hand as if for suspect rain, and looking up to have the coins drop within, the second ringing against the first as it lands, the chime squelched in the closing of his hand. "As it appears we'll be put ashore at Devil's Fork, I'll have to ask you to convey this coin to your dispatcher, with my regrets." Gristav proffers the first of the two golden coins, but sets the second beside it in Jonas' large hand. "And the other...", Gristav adds in sincere petitioner's tones, "If you could, among such men who know the words, arrange a chorus of 'For Those in Peril On the Sea'... It seems fitting. I trust you, to do so sincerely."

"Yes...", Gristav acknowledges grimly. "Now, to brighter matters.", Gristav fetches by fabulous fait a pair of gleaming coins, holding an open hand as if for suspect rain, and looking up to have the coins drop within, the second ringing against the first as it lands, the chime squelched in the closing of his hand. "As it appears we'll be put ashore at Devil's Fork, I'll have to ask you to convey this coin to your dispatcher, with my regrets." Gristav proffers the first of the two golden coins, but sets the second beside it in Jonas' large hand. "And the other...", Gristav adds in sincere petitioner's tones, "If you could, among such men who know the words, arrange a chorus of 'For Those in Peril On the Sea'... It seems fitting. I trust you, to do so sincerely."

"I, er, very well, sir," the captain replies, accepting the coins a little awkwardly. "I suppose something could be arranged at the Fishbowl... unless you'd prefer something a bit more informal at the Publican," he concludes hopefully.

The boat struggles upriver manfully, and the fare premium over the Velashu Ferry begins to make some sense: The larger and more luxurious confines of the yacht require more manpower to fight the current than the standing-room-only flatboat Grimas Oltedler poles. They pass the Publican House on the western shore and enjoy the sight of the gleaming brass dome of the Gold Goblin above the boarded-up warehouses along the river. As they come around the bend in the river where the ferry plies its trade, the tip of Maskyr's Island comes into view. The new construction of Free-Coin District stands in stark contrast to the run-down buildings downriver. Under the skipper's direction, the taxi takes the eastern fork of the river, and Free-Coin disappears behind the solid fortifications of the compound on the Overlord's enclave.

The Devil's Fork dock is fully in the shadow of Maskyr's Island as the boat approaches. Captain Hale tosses a loop of rope as soon as the pier is in range and quickly ties it off, while the crew pulls in their oars with relief, knowing that the journey back to the harbor will be less taxing. Gendarmes glare suspiciously at the unexpected arrival from shacks at the far end of the dock, as the skipper says, "Devil's Fork, gentlemen, and only a short stroll north to Lubbertown."

----------------------------

Phillip's assumption about the unkempt man making the rounds seems reasonable: He doesn't appear to deliver no entreaty that would mark him as a beggar, and the people paying him do so with an expression of distaste which bespeaks necessity rather than compassion. The slovenly man spies the halfling as he crosses the street and displays an uncongenial grin of broken and stained teeth. He pauses outside Betta's store just long enough for a sullen cloud to pass over his face. He hawks noisily and spits maliciously on the dressmaker's doorstep. Inside the shop, the dog Malthus seems to sense the desecration and begins to yap relentlessly. The man laughs with a sneer as he continues on his way.

Gristav wrote:

"If you could, among such men who know the words, arrange a chorus of 'For Those in Peril On the Sea'... It seems fitting. I trust you, to do so sincerely."

"I, er, very well, sir," the captain replies, accepting the coins a little awkwardly. "I suppose something could be arranged at the Fishbowl... unless you'd prefer something a bit more informal at the Publican," he concludes hopefully.

"Informality was my intent. And the sincerity I mentioned. I hold the sincere more true than forms for form's sake. And more important. You strike me as honest and decent, Captain. Your mind and heart turned toward the missing lady's fate, and the lad's grief... better than the perfect practiced prattle of the professionally prayerful. I thank you for your kind thoughts."

---

At the docks, Gristav disembarks with a flourish of his staff in salute to the hutted gendarmes, advancing in the van, but far ahead, of the rest of the party.

that eas supposed to say, not far ahead

I was wondering about that. I found that a bit odd. Now it all makes sense though. :)

Snake tips his hat to the skipper as he falls in behind the others. As they make their way along, "So now what?" he asks.

"The hound's nose, set to sniff in the streets to where the dame might have fled?"

"We ask around. Sam said someone in Lubbertown has to know her. If only she'd written it down somewhere it'd be so much easier."
Braddon trudges wearily towards Lubbertown.
"Do either of you speak Varisian?"

"Like I was born and bred to it.", Gristav says. Then he smirks, and qualifies, "...well, bred to it, at least."

Snake ponders the question a moment before having a strong suspicion that he does. Just as he's about to respond, Gristav interjects ahead of him and so he remains quiet, thinking it unimportant now.

Sludge cowers nervously until he is out from under the Gendarmes' intimidating glares, then perks up his ears and wags his tail as the party leaves Devil's Fork behind and passes beneath the stone arch that serves as the city limit. Beyond lies a conglomeration of idle caravans, horse paddocks, tents, shanties, lean-tos, ramshackle stables, and simple wooden buildings, its disorganization and lack of clean lines a testament to the lack of forethought that went into its construction. On the far side of the Velashu, the sun is sinking toward the western horizon, but here, beyond the rocky ridges which cradle Riddleport, the daylight will linger when it's already twilight in town. The party should have a good few hours before dark.

Taking a glance around, Snake calls the others to a halt. "Why don't we stop here and take a look at what the gnome's dog found. Seems like as good as time as any. Plus there may be something of use on it that may help us."

Phillip lets the wretch continue upon his way, smiling slightly at the slight he delivers towards Betta... and assuming he might get some information more easily and without risk from Ethel before choosing whether to make anything of the man.

"Surely. If we were observed leaving, our charter would have made pursuit obvious. So we were not pursued. It only remains to find a place we've comfort with the discretion of. Braddon, Where, then? In the street? Since any further search hangs on what it says, it ought to speak next. Or rather, you ought to.", Gristav says, smiling, tapping at Braddon's shirt, evidencing the packet prestidigitated within.

The ragged collector moves on out of Phillip's sight around the corner of Betta's shop and down the next street. It's not too tedious a wait after he disappears that the shop door opens and Ethel's departure is heralded by a barrage of barking. She pauses as she closes the door behind her, looking up and down the street. She spies Phil on the step, and her eyes flash with momentary alarm before she looks all around her once more and then hurries over to join him.

Rising to meet Ethel, Phillip makes note of her concern. After shared embrace he asks "Is everything in order? - you put eyes to everywhere before you came across"

"Surely. If we were observed leaving, our charter would have made pursuit obvious. So we were not pursued. It only remains to find a place we've comfort with the discretion of. Braddon, Where, then? In the street? Since any further search hangs on what it says, it ought to speak next. Or rather, you ought to.", Gristav says, smiling, tapping at Braddon's shirt, evidencing the packet prestidigitated within.

"Sure." Braddon glances round casually.

"It's in your hands. Or rather, shirt", Gristav agrees.

Braddon glares at Gristav, then pulls out the packet and looks through the contents.

Gristav dutifully attends the others, all eager to know, but keeping for Braddon what privacy he might have, in the middle of a Lubbertown lane.

Snake watches Braddon directly, curious as to what is discovered.

Rising to meet Ethel, Phillip makes note of her concern. After shared embrace he asks "Is everything in order? - you put eyes to everywhere before you came across"

"Not here," Ethel urges, looking back over her shoulder nervously, "where Betta might see." She takes Phillip's hand and quickly wends her way northward toward Leeward Common, still glancing apprehensively into the alleyways. When she has put a block between herself and her employer, she turns to him with an anxious expression on her face. "Phil, there was a man watching and waiting for me outside work this morning."

Phillip allows himself to be led, before his countenance hardens at Ethel's words. He briefly scans the alley to which he's been pulled to ensure that he has avenue to flee and there is little chance of them being overheard before turning back to his inamorata.
Take 10 Perception for 18

Putting one hand to her shoulder and pushing back the hair from her face with the other he speaks brusquely and with purpose "Tell me everything you can remember about him... Was he Varisi? Was he scarred? Clean shaven, color of his cloth, manner he carried himself, did he bear steel?" and while his speech is not cruel in nature... Ethel could be forgiven for interpreting it in an interrogatory nature.

Braddon takes out the packet of papers and unfolds them. Most of them are small squares of parchment with two or three lines scrawled on them in a language with which he is unfamiliar, but they are all folded up inside a creamy sheet of paper lettered in a meticulous hand.

Mistress Vishki, it reads, pursuant to our conversation of the 13th Rova, this letter shall serve as my personal guarantee that, so long as your performance is dutiful and beyond moral reproach, your grandson Adalo's term in Shoreleave will be uneventful. As assurance of his well-being, you shall receive, at intervals not to exceed two weeks, written attestations to the fact from his own hand delivered to the address in Windward District. Your replies will be delivered to the inmate punctually, and you may send a package containing foodstuffs and/or clothing no more than once in a calendar month. Please note that such packets will be subject to exacting scrutiny before delivery and that attempts to smuggle forbidden contraband into Shoreleave will result in the termination of any and all agreements regarding Adalo Vishki, as well as of your employment.

Contrariwise, should you fail to carry out the duties to which we have mutually agreed in a satisfactory manner, I will take no further personal interest in your grandson's tenure in Devil's Fork and can provide no assurances as to the timeliness of his release. I remain,

Most sincerely,

Anton Mescher,
General of the Riddleport Gendarmes,
pursuant to the authority vested in me by Overlord Gaston Cromarcky.

Braddon's eyes go wide.
"She has a grandson?!"
He pushes the parchments at Gristav and Snake.
"These must be his letters. Be careful with them."
He looks to Gristav jubilantly. "See, I told she was innocent. She'd never betray Adalo. Lil obviously has foul magic at work."
Braddon looks about the scattering of domiciles.
"We should ask around about them. Adalo at least should be well known."

"You didn't know of this Adalo, then?", Gristav asks nearly rhetorically, simply doing his maths aloud. He passes the smaller notes on to Snake, confirming at a glance his surmise; shopping lists, not filial missives. "Keep those in order, that may be important."

"Well known, I'd accept, but under guard for some time. We might better ask directly of Adalo, where his dame might have gone, of her own volition. He'll naturally desire her restored to her role of cornucopiant. I wouldn't speak to being his cousin, though. One shock at a time."

"So, to the shambles, then? Or, to the shackles? Or one of each?", Gristav asks, gesturing from the Lubbertown hovels about them back toward the path to Shoreleave, finally regarding his companions, petitioning their opinions.

Well, that rather changes things. But I wrote Gris missing it, hopefully Snake will call it out.

Phil is fairly certain he's avoiding notice while questioning Ethel.

"Tell me everything you can remember about him... Was he Varisi? Was he scarred? Clean shaven, color of his cloth, manner he carried himself, did he bear steel?"

Ethel blushes at the barrage of questions. "No, I ... I know him ... or, I mean, I know who he is. He ... he works for Shorafa. They call him Pip."

Phillip eases up slightly at the knowledge that Ethel was able to identify the lurker, and his visage melts from concern to pensive reflection. Leaning close to Ethel he gives her a kiss on the forehead and confides "He was here yesterday as well... I talked with him a while but didn't get a sense for the why he was here... but he wasn't here by accident." musing for a few more moments before smirking slightly.

"At any rate, knowing who gives me a lot of comfort... just need time to find the why. Should we to your humble abode?"

Snake takes the letters from Gristav and begins to peruse them thoroughly. As he finishes with the last one, he looks up at the others, a grim look upon him. Although, one might wonder if he possesses a differing expression. "I'd say they're important. This Adalo kid isn't imprisoned... he's been kidnapped. If you take a look at these letters, Gristav, it's clear these letters are proof to let Mistress Vishki know that he's still alive. And as long as she continues to do what she's been coerced to do, he'd remain alive. If this Anton Mescher guy is involved, and he is who he says he is, this could be a lot tricker than we bargained for."

Phillip eases up slightly at the knowledge that Ethel was able to identify the lurker, and his visage melts from concern to pensive reflection. Leaning close to Ethel he gives her a kiss on the forehead and confides "He was here yesterday as well... I talked with him a while but didn't get a sense for the why he was here... but he wasn't here by accident." musing for a few more moments before smirking slightly.

"At any rate, knowing who gives me a lot of comfort... just need time to find the why. Should we to your humble abode?"

Ethel doesn't seem as relieved as Phil does as she falls in beside him to return to the girls' flat. "If Betta saw me with him ... I mean, she has to know who he is; he's almost as recognizable as Oliver Bott or Lil Scarlet ... well, she'd sack me for keeping that sort of company. He was the one who ... who 'recruited' Taffy Plimpton, you know."

"Did he have words for you or was he just watching? You've a skilled enough tongue to explain away why such a scoundrel was harrassing a poor honest soul... you were adept enough at explaining away my presence" giving the hand she has hooked through his elbow a squeeze.

Smoothing his mustache before continuing "I was at temple this morning and met the infamous Plimpton in the flesh..." letting the pause hang so that outrage or suspicion might build "... and she struck me a somewhat desperate whore."

"I'd say they're important. This Adalo kid isn't imprisoned... he's been kidnapped. If you take a look at these letters, Gristav, it's clear these letters are proof to let Mistress Vishki know that he's still alive. And as long as she continues to do what she's been coerced to do, he'd remain alive. If this Anton Mescher guy is involved, and he is who he says he is, this could be a lot trickier than we bargained for."

"Oh, I'd rarely make such a bad bargain, but, as a choice, I don't often make better."

"Braddon, your grandmother, to defend your cousin,served Mescher and his daughter. It's not likely she betrayed that duty, so it's less likely, we'll find her in hiding. I'm sorry; I don't see any other way to sum those facts."

"Mister Kane, Mescher is both General of Gendarmes and father to Ananda, to whom Braddon was a hero. And he looks the part, as well... Braddon, I mean..." Gristav mused a moment.

"Gentlemen, what say we play to parley, the absence of Dame Vishki, into the release of her grandson, into the custody of his cousin, to assist the investigation of her disappearance? If she is gone, this Adalo is of no use to Mescher. And I would see the hostage freed."

"I'd say they're important. This Adalo kid isn't imprisoned... he's been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped by who? When? Why would Mescher kidnap anyone when he can just arrest them? Or are you saying Mescher lied about arresting him?" Braddon's confusion seems to manifest as annoyance.

"Braddon, your grandmother, to defend your cousin,served Mescher and his daughter. It's not likely she betrayed that duty, so it's less likely, we'll find her in hiding. I'm sorry; I don't see any other way to sum those facts."

"To defend who? Oh, him. Nah. She hasn't betrayed Mescher, but I doubt she'll risk telling him that."

"Gentlemen, what say we play to parley, the absence of Dame Vishki, into the release of her grandson, into the custody of his cousin, to assist the investigation of her disappearance? If she is gone, this Adalo is of no use to Mescher. And I would see the hostage freed."

"Does Mescher have him? Has he been kidnapped from Mescher, or by Mescher? Or both? Whatever. If he's worthless to Mescher, Mescher's probably killed him. Otherwise, Mescher won't just give him up. Look, we're here now. I'm gonna ask round."

Having watched the unfolding of the packet with interest, the gnome interjects, "Sludge and I will go with the unbearded half-elf, if you don't mind. We are private investigators and, as such, inevitable rivals of the legitimate authorities." He imbues the two words with as much scorn as they will hold. "I daresay my successes over the course of my illustrious career have done little to endear us to the General and his staff. Professional jealousy can be an unbecoming thing."

Braddon is sticking with the original plan of Gathering Information in Lubbertown. Will Gristav and/or Snake join him or take a different tack?

"I was at temple this morning and met the infamous Plimpton in the flesh..." letting the pause hang so that outrage or suspicion might build "... and she struck me a somewhat desperate whore."

Ethel seems mollified to hear the other woman denigrated. "Well," she says, tossing her hair, "I certainly never thought she was as pretty as everyone seems to think."

Schadenfreude takes her mind off her worry, and she completes the walk home in less anxiety than she began it. "What are we doing tonight, Phil?" she asks with interest as she unlocks the trapdoor at the top of the ladder that leads into the girls' flat.

Just double checking - Phillip asked if Pip said anything to Ethel above.

Upon the question of plans Phillip shrugs his shoulders "To be honest I'm somewhat at a loss... I know of things that need doing, but I've neither the heart for them tonight nor the feeling that the timing is appropriate... so what would you propose?"

Gristav's eyes slowly widen, unblinking at Braddon's lack of understanding, and at Gristav's own. But with an 'am I dreaming?' look at Snake, and a fatalistic shrug, he follows Braddon among the hovels.

Snake looks to the departing ranger before whispering to Gristav. "I guess we see how this plays out." Snake then makes his way after their determined companion as well.

"Did he have words for you or was he just watching?"

She blushes again. "He said ... that they were aware I'd been 'freelancing' and wanted to offer me the security and benefits that the temple could provide. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about and hurried inside. I was afraid to peek out the front windows and see if he was still there in case Betta noticed, but I was afraid he might be waiting for me after work as well. I even worked through lunch because I was afraid to meet him."

Phillip's face is initially crossed with confusion, before he has a lightbulb moment and breaks into an honest laugh "In that case then well done Miss Ethel Braum... it would seem that you've exceeded your own expectations and belief in your ability." wide grin on his face most likely in stark contrast to Ethel's blush and concern.

"Our pantomine at the House of the Silken Veil a couple of days prior to this... you pretended to take advantage of myself... and it would seem that your performance was adequate enough to attract the interest of the Calistrian's, if for no other reason than they expect their cut." drawing her near for a congratulatory kiss "Be strong, you have the strength to explain this away without my help if you will it... or if you would prefer we can resolve it together. I'd wager that they may have deduced the issue already at any rate."

Despite Braddon's enthusiasm, the language barrier and his evident lack of kinship with the population of Lubbertown prevent his efforts from bearing useful fruit. Gristav and Snake tactfully take the lead in questioning the populace, Gristav parlaying his similar line of work into an ice-breaker and Snake merely lending a looming gravitas to the conversation.

Vishki is not an uncommon surname, and it is some time before its connection with the first name Adalo elicits recognition, but finally they come across a group of old women watching a pot bubbling aromatically over a campfire who show a spark of recognition.

"O, bai! Ipuin triste bat da. Pobrea Zaiome."

"Pobrea? Bere adeitasuna ahula egin mutikoaren engainatuta hori da. Ondo gastatu pala batek ondo portatu ume bat esan nahi du, hau da, zer esango dizut."

"Beno, ia ez dezakezu errua bere, utzi bakarrik du babe pobrea da eta ez gutxiago bere burua bakarrik."

"Adalo umezurtz zen, edo bezain ona. Aita ez da ona, aireratu haurra inoiz entregatu zen aurretik."

"Da ez alferrak gizon ona odol-arazoak egin, galdetu didazu? Hazia txarra bada, zuhaitza makurtuta hazten da, esaten dute."

"Eta ama pobrea, ozta-ozta ume bat bere burua baino gehiago, kanpoan galdu lotsa eta mina du."

"Pssh! Eta edan gehiegi, zer entzuten dut from. Ez baina, zer bere errua nuke, errautsak Patata fresko bat bezala ari jaitsi da."

"Beno, Zaiome ahal izan zuen guztia egin zuen."

"Izan behar zuen baino gehiago, galdetu didazu. Gehiegi babes. Zuen mutila jarri behar lan gaztearentzat. Atsedenerako garuneko bat deabrua parkea da."

"Noski, aita gabeko mutiko bat, beti bagoi du gizona izan nahian ari zen. Oldarkorra. Borrokak biltzen."

"Urtean lortu Sczarni batekin saiatu. Pentsatu zuen, ez zen bere amonaren mantala kateak lotuta frogatzeko litzateke."

"Joan zen txarra, jakina. Besteak kanpoan lortu eta utzi Adalo poltsa eskuan."

"Hori izan zen bere hasieratik plan, esan. Berarentzat bakarrik ziren erabiliz, ergela pobrea."

"Herri guardia lortu zion. Blokeatuta zion bere ziega batean. Presoek ez dute han atera berriro haiekin blokeatuta behin kanpoan, ez da ona Varisi mutilak, hala ere."

"Zaiome burua ondoan izan zen, noski. Joan eskaintza bat egiteko guardia kapitain bere segurtasuna bermatzeko."

"Bere solairu garbitzen zuen, eta bere barruko arropa garbitzen entzuten dut. Lotsagarria, zer zintzoa Varisi emakume bat etorri, funtzionario play Gadjo batera."

"Baina familia da! Ez dago ezer emakumea baitzen bat, bere familiari egin."

Braddon is his usual helpful self.
"What did she say?"
"Did she say Adalo?"
"Who's Zaiome?"
"Is 'familia' family?"
"What does 'bakarrik' mean?"

As Snake's attention pops from one woman to the next as each one speaks in turn, he does his best to keep up. "Sad tale... someone named Zaiome...," he relates as quickly as possible, pointing to who he's translating for as he does. "Too soft on the boy... she feels it led him astray. She states they were left alone... the boy was orphaned... no wait, the father left before he was born. That one calls him bad blood... the mother was young... shame and sorrow her companion... she was a drinker...," he pauses a moment, taking a quick breath, "that one feels she did all she could... that one claims too overprotective... should have made him work... idle brain is the devil's toy... that one claims the boy tried to be bigger than he was... aggressive, picked fights... that one claims he tried to join Sczarni to prove himself a man... that one just said it went south...," he stops, deciding to allow the conversation to come to a close as he narrows his eyes in concentration at the information that has suddenly become more involved.

When they finish speaking, "Libratuko gaituen une bat, emakumeek." Snake nods to the women before pulling the others a step or two away. "Okay, he wasn't kidnapped. He apparently did get in with Sczarni and they set him up. Whatever he was involved in, he was the one caught 'holding the bag' as she put it. They feel he was used from the beginning. I can't say I disagree. And apparently when you get locked away in the dungeon... you don't get out. Zaiome is his mother who went to the captain to make an offer for Adalo's safety. According to these women, she's now his maid. That's pretty much the heart of it." Snake looks to the two, wondering what the plan is next, just before he recalls one of the many questions from Braddon. "Oh, 'Bakarrik' means 'alone'."

Gristav tries to translate immediately for Braddon, managing mostly but for outburst interruptions...

"What did she say?"

"I was about to tell you..."

"Did she say Adalo?"

"Yes."

"Who's Zaiome?"

"Your aunt, his mother, the general's maid..."

"Is 'familia' family?"

"Yes."

As Snake ushers the group to a discrete distance, Gristav honors the ladies with a sincere bow, saying, "Eskerrik asko, Amona. Lagungarri izatea espero dugu. Dagoeneko duzu." Then he joins the other menfolk.

"If the boy is pressure on the mother, he'll not be released. And the scene grows darker, ahead of the falling of the Sun... Despair begins to look restful. Mister Greatreave, perhaps your clever compatriot can again catch a scent? I begin to fail to trust my eyes, not to see, but to solve..."

"I thought the general's maid was Adalo's grandmother, not his mother. Did the general keep them both? If Zaiome is his mother, where can we find her? 'Cause if Gramma escaped, she'd hide with her daughter first. Of course, she could be smarter than that, but at the least we should get some more clues."

Braddon thinks to himself for a while.
"If we can't find Gramma, we'll have to ask Lil what she did with her. After all, if the scribe can meet Lil, so can we."

He looks about as if expecting to see someone.
"So, where's Zaiome?"

"And the scene grows darker, ahead of the falling of the Sun... Despair begins to look restful. Mister Greatreave, perhaps your clever compatriot can again catch a scent? I begin to fail to trust my eyes, not to see, but to solve..."

"Not to worry," the gnome replies. "My associate's olfactory orifice is unhindered by the gloom of night. I think the pair of us might attract less attention on our own, though, than accompanied by an entourage. I trust we can share any useful information we've mutually uncovered over griddlecakes?" He is clearly eager to conduct his investigation without direct supervision.