Braddon:
Lil smiles. "The room next-door was Bojasc's," she informs you. "You should go check and see if he left anything valuable in there. Doesn't look like he's going to need it."
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Braddon:
"Oh, I could tell that," Lil appraises you. "First into the house, leading the charge? Clearly, you're their leader." The bedroom is windowless, and the only way in or out is the door by which you just entered. A large bed, comfortable and luxurious, if not as decadent as the bed from the flat above Weatherby's, takes up much of the space. Its blue coverlet is rumpled and the pillows haphazardly askew; clearly no one made it this morning. There is a bird cage in one corner of the room, and a long mirror hanging on one wal. A carpet bag sits open on the floor, silk stockings trailing out of it; more articles of clothing are scattered around the bed and floor. Lil starts picking them up and stuffing them carelessly into the bag.
Lil gives Braddon an apologetic shrug and walks toward the hallway the party came in by. She stops at the first door on the right. "This is the bedroom," she announces. "Shall you open the door, or shall I? That is, are you more afraid there's a trap on the door or an ambush inside the room?"
Lil flickers a look at Gristav and Tendal to see if they're going to object to her movement. Assuming they don't, she steps to the telescope and scans the sea. "No, I don't see it yet. But I should probably collect my things from the bedroom so I'm ready to go when it arrives. If I may?"
"If you've still the hope of life and profit moving forwards... we needs be told of what to look for by way of signal now." "A flag from my ship," she nods again at the telescope set up in the window. "A white flag with a blue border means they are ready to sail."
She shudders. "If you must question him, I don't want to be here when he's awake. Can't you take him in one of the other rooms? Or I could go," she suggests.
"And how good a bet are you, then? As a handicapper, I'd have to look at the record of your partners, and their ends. The accountant, short of hearing your plan for his rescue, he seems disposed of. Disposable. The thug-", he said, gesturing toward the crumpled Bojasc, "Similar. The gambler, dead at his hand, far as you knew, though that card's been tipped. The dwarf..." Gristav had to stop, and took a slow breath before setting his newly stone-grey eyes back on her. "Though, he wasn't your partner. Just tell us, is there one, any one, who's profited, of their association with you? Has there ever been?" Lil rolls her eyes. "Do not forget Volo and his Varisian banditti. They died at your hands, as I recall. As a matter of fact, it would seem that all my colleagues have met their ill ends because of you lot. I believe even poor Oliver was punished because you went whining to Shorafa. Are your murderous interferences my fault?" "Your partner, is she pulling the metal from the ocean? Or is she only able to retrieve it when it lands on the island?" "Again," she shrugs, "not my part of the plan. The physical collection of the ore is her responsibility. All I am to do is to retrieve the skymetal from her and sell it to the Gas Forges." Braddon: Lil's plan sounds terrific! Everyone profits. Why is everyone else still standing around trying to poke holes in it?
"You're obsessed with the necklace," Lil complains. "Was it really that valuable? It certainly didn't look it. It has nothing to do with the skymetal; I only took it to make it look like the Mescher girl had been robbed." "I've no idea how she got the skymetal," she tells Tendal. "After all, if she told me how to do it, I wouldn't need her, would it? She's clever enough for that. Some ancient ritual or other she'd researched." "So if I have it right you're seeking to trade your life and limb against a half-promise of profit from a secret venture with an uncertain end... and in so doing we'd be forging ourselves in opposition to the Whore-queen, Rat-king and lord of the Arena Pits?" cocking his head to the side and allowing a wry smile to form "I'm still for the guessing that your pitiful skin might be the easier commodity to trade for coin... there's more than a few that would put forward a sum to see you flayed..." allowing his tone to show that he is engaged in a salesman's patter rather than speaking with iron-made thought. "Assuredly," Lil replies. "The problem, of course, is that by accepting that sum from one means earning the enmity of the others, doesn't it? Whose tender mercy do you want to throw yourself on to protect you from your newly-made enemies? There are no sure things in Riddleport, only better bets than others. I'd rather bet on myself than trust in the loyalty of someone else ... wouldn't you?"
"And idea when this signal is suppose to be sent? I'm guessing it should be fairly soon, right?" "Exactly," Lil replies. "The ship could be waiting for me now." "How much is this worth?" "That depends on how much skymetal ore my contact has obtained ... and which skymetal it is. Raw adamantine ore, for example, is sold for 100 to 400 gold coins per pound, depending on its quality, but the same ore refined and worked into weapons and armor sells for thousands of gold coins per item. Of course, skymetal is worth so much because of its rarity. If the Gas Forges were to learn that we had a plentiful supply, the price they offer would go down. The trick is to bring it in a little at a time, with no indication that there's more in the offing. You see how a large group of partners would be beneficial. If I, for example, were to keep coming back with more, they would lower the compensation. Of course, I have ways of appearing to be different women ... but a group of us, of different races and genders, we could keep selling small amounts for a long time before they began to suspect we were working together!"
"The fat man, huh? Not surprised. No Zincher though? Or the prostitute queen Shorafa? They both have got to know something, right? On top of that, 'where' is this skymetal? And 'who' are we suppose to be waiting for to get this pay-off?" "Cleg Zincher and I have a touchy history," Lil reminds them with a tight smile, "and, no, Shorafa's not in on the deal. This is my operation, not hers." "My contact should be in possession of the skymetal by now. I have only to go get it and convey it to the Gas Forges. I've been waiting for a signal from the ship that will carry the cargo." She flicks a finger at the telescope set up in the bay window.
"How's this fit with Mescher's daughter? And why kill her maid?" Lil's eyes flash back toward Braddon. "Saul was getting cold feet," she explains. "The plan was for his casino's first night to be its last. The bandits would attack, the crowd would scatter, the money would go into the skymetal investment. It was a good plan, but Saul ... was a showman at heart. He loved the attention, the adulation. The little Mescher girl was Plan B. He couldn't afford trouble with Maskyr's Island; he would have to leave Riddleport ahead of the Gendarmes." "And what's with all these tidal waves?" Lil smirks. "Skymetal comes from the sky. If enough of it falls into the sea, it makes a splash. Such a splash, think how big a fortune we're talking about."
"Weatherby," she shrugs. "Saul. A few ship-captain friends of mine. Anyone with a bit of coin laid by and an eye for the main chance. But you're in luck. The skymetal's already in place now and only has to be transported discreetly. You can have Weatherby's and Saul's shares of the profits; you only have to keep quiet and wait for the pay-off."
"Well, I heard you got poor Weatherby arrested," Lil begins, "so I presume you know something about the investment. Skymetal. I was approached by a party who needed a contact in Riddleport to do business with the Gas Forges. After all, raw skymetal isn't worth much before it's worked. I arranged to handle the transactions, discreetly, and in exchange I was given the opportunity to buy into the deal. The more money I could put up, the larger the share of the profits I could claim. I and my partners, I should say." Phillip: Bojasc's reputation for toughness is well-earned; he is still alive and stands to make a full recovery, given time and/or medical care.
Lil smiles tightly. "Don't wear yourself out, darling," she advises Braddon. "I've surrendered. Besides, there's a great deal of money at stake. My investment partners have had an unfortunate run of dying; there's still a chance for the lot of you to claim their shares of the spoils. Aren't you the slightest bit curious what this has all been about?" Having been rebuffed by Phillip, she sets the wand carefully down on the sofa to her right.
"'Resist?'" Lil demands indignantly. "Have I raised a hand to harm any of you?" She offers Phillip the wand in her hand. "Darling, you're hurt," she tells Braddon. "Check Bojasc's pockets; he had a healing potion."
Lil gets to her feet. "Why is everyone being so mean?"she asks, her eyes welling with tears as she turns from Braddon to Phillip.
Without attempting to get to her feet, Lil half-crawls, half-slides out of the grease. "Protect me," she begs Braddon, looking up from where she is huddled beside a couch.
Lil draws a slender wand. "Darling, hurry," she breathes. "We have to get out of here."
"He's been holding me prisoner here, and at last you've come to rescue me!" Lil goes on, pointing at Bojasc. "He killed the dwarf, you know, and Saul as well! You have to stop him!"
Lil smiles enticingly at Braddon. "Oh, I'm so pleased you've come. I've been waiting for you."
Lil speaks and gestures, and the hallway between Braddon and the rest of the party fills with layers of strong, sticky spiderwebs.
"Typical?" she asks icily, pushing her hood back off of her head. "I like to think I'm not, nor have I anything to do with Cheliax. This insult is aimed a little closer to home." The woman under the cloak is a stunning brunette, whose beauty is marred (or accented, depending on your point of view) by blood-red eyes and gleaming horns the same bright color as her nail lacquer. Now that the real thing is unveiled in the same room, there's no doubt that Liry's horns and tail are a tawdry costume.
"Lil, you haven't said yet what he is doing. I do hope it isn't anything so prosaic as a brothel, and as you haven't mentioned it, it cannot be something of normal trade." Tendal frowns. "A brothel?" She laughs. "Shorafa'd have his hide nailed to her wall before he even knew he'd been flayed. No, it's the Overlord he's taking on; he's opening a casino." As Liry enters the room, Lil's attention seems drawn away from Tendal to the newcomer. Although he can't see her face, the way her fingers tighten unconsciously around the stem of her wine glass makes him think she is agitated or angry.
"'Sand-Point?'" she asks, amusement in her voice. "Bucolic little country town, I take it? I can just picture him do-si-doeing with the farmers' daughters at the barn raising. How very wholesome. Hm? This evening? You haven't heard? There's only one event in Riddleport this evening, and it's the grand opening of Saul Vankaskerkin's latest business venture. Everyone's invited; the only question is who's going to show up."
"This evening?" she asks, with a tone of surprise in her voice. "If you're here to visit Saul Vankaskerkin, you'll be otherwise engaged this evening, won't you? I couldn't help but overhear that you've recently come from Saul's son Orik? Is he well? We in Riddleport haven't heard from him in quite a while, and there was some ... unpleasantness just before he left town. We've been ... concerned." Tendal: Hard as it is to believe, she seems less interested in your own illustrious presence than in news of Orik.
The whiff of perfume that reaches Tendal's nose as he sits down is promising: an expensive scent favored by well-to-do ladies in Magnimar, not the cheap stuff favored by common streetwalkers. Equally promising is the slim, white hand that emerges from the enveloping cloak to gesture to the barkeep for a refill; long fingernails are coated in bright red lacquer, a recent fashion that hasn't even begun to spread to Sandpoint yet. Tendal recognizes the bottle that Arnando Rolf uses to replenish the woman's glass: the '04 red he had just inquired about. The barkeep takes another opportunity to give the wizard a hard stare before he returns behind the counter; he obviously feels particularly protective of this customer. "They call me Lil," a warm voice purrs from the interior of the hood. "What do they call you?" She lifts the glass to take a sip, but the way the shadows fall in this particular corner make it impossible for Tendal to discern much about her face other than that it is conventionally humanoid. He does note that the cloak he assumed was black is actually a very deep red and made of a fine, expensive fabric.
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