Just as the priest seems about to heave himself atop the catwalk and out of range, the half-elf flings a dagger that buries itself deeply between his ribs. With a strangled cry, he falls backward off the ladder and thuds heavily to the floor.
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Phillip: "Knowledge is power, my friend," the priest shrugs. "Goons are easy to come by in Riddleport; people who can give me a valuable bit of information are much rarer. See, if you're working for Marzo, I can expect more trouble from the Cove; goons are easily replenished there, as well. Forewarned is forearmed." He doesn't move toward you but waits expectantly for an answer to his inquiry.
Phillip: "I am manhandled outside your door, then as I enter under my own intent you attempt to force yourself upon my mind. What little patience I have is spent Aita... choose your words carefully before my ears are closed to you." The priest spreads his hands with a smirk. "I only want a little information. Are you working for Marzo or directly for the man upstairs ... Kane, he's calling himself?"
"I thought I had been clear enough; I apologize. The miracle is the conjury of a deceased spirit, bound to the answering of questions. A magic of nearly superlative puissance and subtlety, yet a miracle verging on the common. And the cause... is not to be part of any conversation that doesn't bring the miracle. Discretion, Father. Not a thread to be bound by, but a rubric, a fabric, to be woven and worn. One must make a habit of it.", Gristav puns. "Retrieving secrets from beyond the grave," Father Kreun muses. "I'm afraid such is beyond my sphere of influence. I am a mere mission priest ministering to society's unfortunate outcasts, not a great cleric in a cathedral. Once a man's dead, there's no more I can do for him than say last rites." "Aye," he accedes to Gristav's hurry, "if you've other business, I'd not detain you." Taking the two tankards from Snake, he sets them on the end of the less populated table, uncorks his bottle, and pours a few fingers in each of them. "It's not watered ale," he says jocularly, "and you'll want to arrive at your next errand sober, I've no doubt. You two get started, and I'll fetch a third mug." With a smile, he crosses to the far end of the dining room and enters the kitchen.
Father Kreun seems unperturbed by Braddon's inclination to linger. "Surely you won't need a bodyguard within these walls," he smiles jocularly, leading Gristav back to the stairs and down. "So tell me: What is this miracle you find yourself in need of, and what is the cause?" The two return to the ground floor to find the dining room half filled with what must be local squatters and street people, breakfasting on bowls of hot gruel. Snake is leaning against the wall, both watching the clientele and keeping his distance from them.
"A recent acquaintance, then?" the priest interprets from Gristav's meanderings. "What of your bodyguard?" he nods to the door Braddon stepped through. "Also a new acquisition? He wasn't with you on Wealday. A prudent hire, I admit, when venturing into Rotgut; I'm pleased to see you took my cautions to heart."
"I spoke of duty. I've taken on the duty of asking of you, of your Lady, really, and in cause of Justice and Mercy, both... a miracle of the sort more often seen. Might we speak of such? As unseemly as such hire is, it is in good cause, Father, and I've no doubt, put to good cause...?" "A miracle?" the priest smiles. "If I could call down many of those, we'd have more coin to feed and house more poor unfortunates and fewer leaks in the roof to drip on us when it rains. Come along downstairs with me, and tell me about your cause. I was just going to have a drink with your friend, Mr. ... Kane, is it? Tell me, how long have you known him?"
Behind Gristav, the door at the top of the stairs opens, and Beltias Kreun emerges, a bottle in his hand. He smiles as he approaches the half-elf. "There a problem? I trust you found your bird-keeping friend. He's not ... wandering again, is he?" He peers past Gris into the storage room inquisitively.
Snake: "Kitchen's back that way, through the dining room," Kreun nods to the room past the stairs. "Mumsy ought to be dishing up breakfast gruel. That ought to have been long enough for us to have been babbling about the sun and new hope and second chances, by the time your new pals come down. I'll get a bottle of the good stuff from my room. Badeye, Rasper, you take the front steps. Balston, go check on Garspheal; the lazy drunk's probably still sleeping off last night."
The men scatter to follow Kreun's orders, and the ostensible priest himself takes the stairs up with the one called Balston, leaving you along with a small, nervous-looking man and the muttering one in sailcloth, still seeming to take no notice of what's going on around him. Despite Kreun's acceptance of your story, you still feel uneasy about his intentions.
Snake: The supposed priest grins, and the men around you relax. "That's the proper tack. Let's all have a drink. But not the poison Mumsy dishes out. Listen, what's the story with the half-elves? They simple patsies you stumbled into or new muscle for Marzo?"
Snake: A look of confusion crosses Kreun's face. "Who? The streetwalker and the guttersnipe? In the kitchen, I expect, getting some gruel out of Mumsy if they've managed to wake her up. Listen, you don't tell him the cut's on the way; you tell him what he's already getting is his fair share. If he thinks he can send you in here and shake more coin out of us, he has another think coming. The deal we made when we came to set things up here stands. It's us took the risk of a new location, not the rest of you sitting pretty back in the Cove."
There is a general murmur of agreement from the rest of the men, accompanied by the cracking of knuckles, and you're suddenly very aware that you're outnumbered five to one ... six to one, if you count the muttering man.
Snake: You sidle up to the last row of pews and have a seat while Gristav climbs the stairs once again. Despite your attempts to be inobtrusive, you feel the eyes of the rest of the congregation on you, all but the muttering barefoot man in sailcloth, who is rocking nervously an a bench, his eyes on the floor. The woman and girl are nowhere to be seen.
The silence hangs awkwardly as you hear Gristav's footsteps recede toward Geezer Pidge's room upstairs; then, the priest looks at you, all warmth gone from his eyes, and demands, "All right, Mr. Kane," emphasizing the alias sardonically. "What are you doing here? Did Marzo send you to check up on us? We're sending his cut."
"Mister Hart and Mister ... Kane, is it?" the priest replies with a smile, looking first at the half-elf, then at the human. "Of course, all are welcome within these walls, whether they join in our rites or not. Brandy, you'll show our guest to Padraig's room? Where the birds are kept? And you, gentlemen?" he asks Braddon and Snake. "Will you visit our resident bird-keeper or join us for the service downstairs?"
Gristav has just reached the second floor when he practically bumps into Beltias Kreun, emerging from a door near the top of the staircase and smoothing his white and gold robes. Some more of his makeshift militia are milling about in the hall, waiting for him. He smiles at the half-elf. "My friend, I've been told you've returned for services and brought some companions." His gaze travels over Gristav's shoulder to Braddon and Snake, then continues to the empty space past the tall man. "Where is the lovely Jaelle? Is she downstairs?"
"Aye, well," he laughs, "less a church and more a toehold. We've not been here long, but we hope to establish ourselves. I'd invite you to a service, but, as you say, it's not a safe neighborhood for a lady to walk alone."
"Well, then, you've both kinder hearts than many you meet in Riddleport," Father Kreun smiles, "and I'm sorry my boys here mistook your intentions. You understand this is a rough neighborhood. We're just trying to protect those who come to us for help."
"Madrat, of course!" The smile returns to Father Kreun's face. "Madrat's only recently joined our little brotherhood, a new initiate, you know," he explains. "" he goes on in a voice pitched louder to catch the old man's attention, as he gives Padraig a friendly slap on the shoulder, "" He flashes Jill a grin while Padraig beams and nods along. "" He gives Padraig a nudge up the stairs before turning back to Gristav and Jill. "I'm afraid I can't offer you any reward; every bit of coin we can scrape together is needed for the mission. All I can give you is my thanks and a blessing. As it is written, the Dawnflower helps those who help others."
"Mistress Beshaley," he bows over her hand as he clasps it. "May the Dawnflower prosper your next voyage. I present to you Badeye, Rasper, Brandy, and...." He frowns as his gaze lingers on the timorous man who identified Padraig.
"I am Gristav." "Lads," the priest says to the men on the stairs reproachfully, "these folk are here on a mission of mercy. They pose no threat to our little flock. You'll have to forgive them, friend," he strides fearlessly down the steps through the midst of them to extend his hand to Gristav. "There's those from the wharves who see the unfortunate souls of Rag's End as a roster from which to fill their crew manifest. Some here are able of body but feeble of mind: easy prey for those seeking waisters and galley slaves. These men mean to protect the less fortunate, if they're a tad overzealous in their duties. I'm Beltias Kreun; there's some who call me Father, though in truth I'm only a fellow laborer. Might I seek an introduction to your most charming companion?" he grins in Jill's direction. |