Surprised by the sudden accusation, Tendal moves quickly into the corridor, attempting to persuade Gristav to take a more diplomatic approach to the situation.
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"No," Tendal corrects, "the scribe instructed her to go to Roderic's Cove, which implies that she would have had no intention of going there without having received his letter, which we still don't know that she has. As far as we know, she arranged with this Captain Treeg to be taken directly to Sandpoint last week. If she's been holding a grudge against Orik since Falk Zincher's death, she's had plenty of time to make plans, contingent only on her discovering his whereabouts. Let us not forget, she was a favored acolyte of the priestess of Calistria. That implies not merely a certain loose outlook on monogamy but also an acuity at vengeance." He looks to Phillip for validation.
Tendal frowns and gazes thoughtfully a moment at Saul's office door before answering in a low tone, "Master Taphodarian, the talent agent, raised a disturbing point a few days ago: that Lil Scarlet left Riddleport only after Orik Vankaskerkin's present location was disclosed. I brought his concerns to Mr. Vankaskerkin, and I must say I share them. If she has gone to Sandpoint to exact some sort of revenge...." He lets the sentence trail off unfinished. "I sent an express letter to my aunt the mayor to warn the local authorities to be on guard, but after tonight's opening, I intend to travel back down the coast myself, to make sure that nothing untoward is going on. If all is well, I can easily be back before next Sunday."
"I got here before you," Braddon points out to Tendal. "You're late. Where've you been?" "Studying," he answers a bit stiffly. "I wanted to be sure I was prepared, not knowing how busy we might end up being the rest of the day." He delicately picks up his venison bacon between his fingertips and deposits it on Braddon's plate.
As Saul and Bojasc are passing through the sitting room, they meet Tendal coming up from downstairs. "Oh, good morning, sir," the mage nods a greeting as the owner and his bodyguard disappear into his office. "Am I that late?" he asks the rest of the assembly, a bit miffed, as he arrives in the dining room and searches through the baked goods for his morning repast. Supplying himself with coffee and some of Gristav's bacon, he sits down at the table.
Tendal sighs theatrically. "If you insist on painting everyone you work with as your enemy," he advises Gristav, getting to his feet, "you're going to find yourself alone in a town in which allies come in handy more often than not. Try not assuming everyone's plotting against you." He departs the dining room.
Tendal's expression shifts back to his usual setting of urbane boredom. "More vague accusations? You're flailing about randomly looking for a villain, when you haven't even any evidence anything untoward is afoot. Why not blame our charming dinner companion?" He casts a gaze toward Thuvalia. "She has, after all, been a secret conspirator before. No offense," he adds, entirely unconvincingly. Thuvalia returns a derisive moue for his insinuation.
Tendal quirks an eyebrow. "Whisper what, exactly?" He seems less disinclined to believe ill of the man than of the master.
As Braddon takes his leave, Tendal walks back out of Saul's office looking distinctly annoyed. "I had thought," he addresses Gristav, "you might listen to reason and refrain from bandying about wild accusations."
Between the three of them, Braddon, Gristav, and Snake carry the various dishes of the dinner upstairs to the dining room, where Thuvalia remains imperiously seated to await them. Tendal arrives and frowns to see that she is the only one already there. "Where is Mr. Vankaskerkin?" he asks.
"Thank you, Tendal. I understand you've a superior approach to the laying off of unwanted wares, and I thank you for it. But keep a tally, or even a sense, of it all. While nothing would ever stick to your fingers, some still might and ought find a path to your hand, and purse. Would not do to give until one regretted it, eh? Do let me know, if I might be a help to you." "Trust me," the mage replies dryly, "I'm quite satisfied with my salary. A well-run business has just as promising a payout as a life of vigilanteism in the long run, in exchange for far less risk. Well," he considers, "in the case of Riddleport, at least marginally less risk. Now, I understand dinner is ready?" He ushers the pair out of his room and locks the door behind them.
"Hm, yes," Tendal remarks dryly. "The fruits of your extracurricular activities in Rotgut, as I understand it. It does seem to offer a more generous rate of pay than your day job."
"We'll give Gristav and Braddon the word." before backtracking to the kitchen to do just that. "Yes, if they want their money, tell them to come get it quickly," Tendal insists. "I'm no bursar to sit in my office to await their convenience." Phillip crosses the casino floor once more and returns to the kitchen. Saul and Bojasc have departed, leaving only Braddon and Gristav.
"You did good work... better than I would have managed." Tendal preens himself mildly. "It's really only a matter of knowing how to speak to people. That, and managing not to look like you're desperate for the coin and will accept any offer."
Tendal unlocks his door and lets Phil and Snake in before closing it again behind them. His room is layed out virtually identically to Snake's, save that he has a second, simpler room with a work table and a chest attached. It's to the chest that he goes now, retrieving a pouch. "I trust you've agreed how this is to be shared out?" he asks. "I'll not adjudicate disputes; it's none of my affair."
Tendal sighs. "Well, have them come claim their shares before dinner, then. If anything's left after the meal, I'm going to ask Saul to put it in the vault. There's no reason I should have to be responsible for it." As the pair pass the statue of Desna, they see Snake at Thuvalia's door.
"Come, lets see the business ended." making to follow Magnimar. Tendal retraces his steps back toward his room, Phillip in tow. "Really, I'll feel better to have the monies disbursed, if the shares aren't to be stowed in the vault," he says with a touch of reproof. "What's all this about a murder?"
Tendal enters the kitchen from the casino floor, looking cross. "Master Hargreaves," he greets Phillip, "I've been expecting you. Are you so hungry you forgot our business?"
Stopping and turning back around, "He's in the kitchen with the others," he responds. But before turning back and continuing on toward Thuvalia's room, "Is there anything else you wanna know?" He sighs dramatically. "No, thank you. I'll find him there, I suppose." He closes the door behind him and heads toward the kitchen.
"I was on my way down here and I figured I'd let you know dinner is ready," he tells him. "Ah. Excellent," Tendal replies but hesitates in the doorway. "I've been expecting Master Hargreaves. Have you seen him?"
Snake takes his leave, heading toward Tendal's room. Once he arrives, he knocks on the door, awaiting a response. Tendal answers the door, expectantly, and seems nonplussed to see Snake. "Yes?" he asks. "What is it?"
As Braddon and Gristav are preparing the food, footsteps are heard descending the stairs, and Tendal appears. "Ah," he says with approval as he surveys the activity in the kitchen, "supper. Excellent. Very good indeed. Knock at my door when it's ready."
Smiling at Tendal and not excluding him Phillip clarifies "Excellent good... has it been disbursed to the others as well or am I the first?" "It was you asked me to handle it," Tendal replies, "so I assumed I should return the proceeds to you. No one else has asked me about it, at any rate. Whenever you're done here, come down and retrieve it. I'll be glad to be rid of the responsibility." He gives Saul a nod and then heads for the stairs.
"Master Hargreaves," Tendal rises in turn to follow them into the office , "I've something for you as well, downstairs in my room: the liquidation of your ill-gotten effects from the Gray Master's den."
Stepping in, he glances over at Tendal before speaking. "Word is the suit here's giving you information concerning an 'issue' from yesterday. Just here to make sure what he's telling you is accurate." He looks over at Tendal, "So where are you at in the story, bub?" "I was simply informing Mr. Vankaskerkin," Tendal replies, "that some of the murder cultists you lot stirred up yesterday are apparently unaccounted for. Given the fact, it seems only prudent to be on heightened alert against them, should they try to disrupt our next evening of business. Extra vigilance in the kitchen, in particular, would seem called for."
"I intend to warn him only that some of the Norgorberite faithful may be unaccounted for," Tendal replies impatiently. "Desna knows if there's the least possible danger to our customers, we owe it to them to be as vigilant as possible. Extra guards in the kitchen for one thing, and an examination of any food and drink that will be served. Honestly, man, if you think I'm concerned about stepping on a halfling's toes when there's a possibility of a mass poisoning on our premises! If you're afraid of him, I'll take full responsibility. And no, I've no intention of 'tipping Mr. Vankaskerkin off' about your insane suspicions; I just hope you come to your senses before you say anything you'll regret. You'll keep an eye on Miss Barabbio? You do understand Varisian? I mean, if they start discussing pickpocketing the patrons or burgling the vault, you'll know it?" He departs through the swinging doors of the kitchen, heading upstairs.
"It's been my experience that unpleasant people with few moral qualms and an axe to grind can be remarkably resourceful when it comes to ferreting out the particulars of who has wronged them and where they may be found," Tendal replies dryly, "although in this case, I'll certainly hope I'm wrong." He pauses a moment with a worried frown. "Still, I think Mr. Vankaskerkin ought to know about this. If there's even a chance that a secretive murder cult could be plotting against us...." He stands. "Will you stay and keep an eye on the entertainment? Or would you rather go and inform Mr. Vankaskerkin? If you'll promise to be civil and not throw around any wild accusations, that is."
"I think Scarlet is still well out of town, and Zincher rather too dimly direct for the subtlety of a silent snatching. Are there other hopeful hatefuls, known to you?" He shrugs. "The Scarlet woman attacked through a cat's paw last time; who is to say she does not still have allies undiscovered? As for other possibilities, I must admit I haven't been as active out making new enemies as the rest of you seem to have been. Are you quite certain none of your Norgorberite friends escaped?"
Back at the Gold Goblin, Tendal sighs. "Look, all you know for certain is that Mr. Felden wasn't at breakfast. It's now early afternoon. I don't think a half day's absence is sufficient to leap to the conclusion of foul play. Have you even inquired of Mr. Vankaskerkin if he knows of any particular business Mr. Felden might be taking care of before Sunday?" "At any rate, if something does turn out to be the matter, may I ask that you consider that it might be the doings of that Scarlet woman, or of Cleg Zincher, or of any of the other enemies the Gold Goblin has that we know of before accusing one of our own? Last Sunday, a robbery was planned to ruin our grand opening; can you deny that the disappearance of one of the owners might be another ploy to shut us down?"
"Which dead men?" Tendal frowns. "Miss Barabbio's friends who tried to rob our customers and put us out of business? I think there's a difference between defending our interests against those who plot against us and accusing our employer of murder." "From what I have been led to understand," he goes on archly, "you mistook the leader of a murder-cult for a humble cleric of charity. Therefore, I would have to say my sense of you is that you are a poor judge of character. Particularly as I, with whom you are sharing these dark suspicions, am as much Saul's man as you are Mr. Felden's."
"I'm afraid I do, in fact, consider Mr. Vankaskerkin incapable of murdering a business partner, if that is indeed what you are implying," Tendal answers a little primly. "His methods and accounting might have been, in the past, 'creative,' which led to misunderstandings and, sadly, tragedy, but I should hardly place myself in the employ of someone I believe to be a remorseless criminal. And you must have a fairly low opinion of Mr. Felden's business sense if you believe him to have been so thoroughly deceived by a man you claim to have 'seen through' in the course of a much shorter acquaintance." He waves his hand. "By all means, conduct your little experiment, if you wish. But I hope you've thought through how you'll explain your actions when Mr. Vankaskerkin addresses your illusion, believing it to be Mr. Felden. A complete unburdening of your suspicions, once they have been proved to be unfounded, might be awkward."
Troubled and torn, Gristav says tensely, "When you come to understand, what my meaning was, I hope you will agree, I'm showing considerable restraint. You do remember, my only reason for being here, is the support of my friend? Whose absence is unexplained, following words with his partner. I view it all quite darkly. Perhaps it's just Riddleport, soaking in." "I hope you don't mean to imply," Tendal retorts a bit hotly, "that you suspect Mr. Vankaskerkin of ... of anything untoward."
Frowning, Tendal shoots a distrustful glance toward the dancers out on the floor. "How long will this take? I'm not sure how comfortable I am granting a group of strangers free rein in our building. The last group of Varisian entertainers Mr. Vankaskerkin hired weren't particularly trustworthy."
Tendal frowns at the speculation about his own activities. "Have you asked Mr. Vankaskerkin? Perhaps Mr. Felden is taking care of some matter of business before tomorrow's event."
Tendal frowns. "He wasn't at breakfast. At dinner last night, I suppose.... No, wait, he didn't turn up then, either. Sometime before then, apparently. All of us who were in the building had lunch together; I know he was here then. He was concerned about someone sabotaging the dance floor." He gives a subconscious glance toward the open doors leading out to the courtyard.
Behind the island of pushed-aside tables, Tendal is seated at the bar, a glass of wine in his head and a mild frown on his face as he supervises the practice. Seeing Gristav enter, he nods a greeting.
"The pastry are for our lad and lass", Gristav chuckles, "And I'm courting neither. But I hope I'm helping both. I suppose I should have waited until asked. Though I guess he did..." "Hm? Oh, I suppose you mean the elf has returned," Tendal replies dismissively. "Feeling the aftereffects of his indecent carousals yesterday, I trust?" Passing Desna's effigy, Tendal stops at his door, the first in the corridor. "Honestly, if he can't make it out of bed and up the stairs to get his own breakfast, I'd just let him go hungry." He unlocks the door and lets himself into his room.
Tendal rises as well, as the breakfast meeting seems to be breaking up. "I'll be coordinating with the gnome talent agent today over the set-up for the performers," he tells Saul. "I'll send word if we run into any difficulties we can't iron out between us." Heading back downstairs, Gristav finds himself sharing the stairwell with the Magnimarian wizard going in the same direction. "Taking that to Miss Barabbio?" he asks conversationally, nodding to the coffee and pastries. "You're wasting your time courting that one. Thoroughly unpleasant harridan. Still, I suppose there's something to be said for keeping the talent happy, particularly so close to a performance."
"Sam? An excellent question. Gone, for now. A period, at least, if not a flourish, nor finial." "Ah. Yes. We know," Tendal replies. "She was just saying her goodbyes."
"What is?" Tendal asks with a puzzled frown.
"Well, they say there's no such thing as bad publicity," Tendal quips. "If you end up getting thrown onto the sand to fight wild beasts, do try to mention Varisian caravan night with your dying breaths." He turns his attention back to Saul at the head of the table. "I plan to spend the day coordinating with the talent agent to make sure everything the performers need will be in place ... and hopefully ascertaining that this set of employees isn't under orders to rob the clientele."
"Advertising openly at Cleg Zincher's arena?" Tendal frowns. "Are you sure that's wise? I'd include his men among those we'd be wise to avoid confrontation with." He pauses, screwing up his eyes as he considers whether he could have phrased that in such a way not to end a sentence with a preposition.
"Our youth awaits our leavings; I'll take him something later." As Gristav leaves the room, Tendal frowns and mutters to himself, "He's positively obsessed with that kitten." "We disposed of the scribe. What do you want done today?" "I, for one, would like to request that we avoid entanglements with cultists and Sczarni and the Gendarmerie," Tendal pronounces, looking around the table for agreement. "Tomorrow we will be open for business; the last thing we need is to stir up any further bad blood. I think it would benefit all of us to spend a nice, quiet day making sure we're ready to open our doors tomorrow evening at sunset."
Tendal helps himself to a fresh roll from the bakers' basket before Bojasc half-rises to reach in and supply himself with some bread as well. Saul eats his pastry mechanically, not breaking his distracted silence. The owner glances back at the door at intervals, as if expecting another arrival. "Yes, blast it, where is that coffee?" Tendal asks supportively, frowning at the doorway through which Gristav consistently refuses to come. "If you'd like me to go down and check on it, sir...."
Continuing to Tendal "A relatively simple matter... we liberated a number of items of some value yesterday and if you are amenable we had thought perhaps to lean upon your abilities to both plumb their worth as well as see them rehomed and exchanged for tender." Tendal frowns. "I can't say my family would be thrilled to discover I'm working as a fence," he replies dryly. "Still, I suppose it's a superior alternative to harboring stolen goods in the Gold Goblin. Bring them by my room after breakfast, and I'll try to be rid of them as quickly as possible."
Replying to Magnimar diffidently on the walk upstairs "I was only missed if my presence was expected..." before changing the subject with a slight nod "Aye, though some expectation softens the blow. I trust you've heard of our own... adventures yesterday?" "Hm?" Tendal replies. "Some foolishness about cultists in Rotgut, as I understand. I really think we'd do better to steer clear of such distractions in the future," he advises in an annoyingly avuncular tone; "we've enough to do trying to run a successful business without getting involved with ancillary matters." "Good morning, sir," Tendal greets Saul cheerfully, setting the bakery basket on the table.
Tendal sets the basket of breads and pastries on the table before taking the seat at Saul's remaining right hand. "Someone brought in the delivery from the bakery but neglected to carry it upstairs," he informs him, a faint crease in his brow as he wonders of whom he should be disapproving. "Mr. Felden's protégé is heating the kettle for tea and coffee."
Tendal and Phillip arrive at the top of the stairs and head for the owner's suite. At the dining table, they find only Saul and Bojasc as of yet. "Good morning, sir," Tendal greets Saul cheerfully, setting the bakery basket on the table.
"Mr. Hargreaves," Tendal nods politely to the halfling as he follows him up the stairs to breakfast. "We missed you at dinner last night. You've heard about Mr. Deraythen's and Miss Beldusc's departures?"
Tendal enters the kitchen behind Snake and Phillip. "Are you still on about that kitten?" he sighs to Gristav. "Why hasn't anyone carried the baker's goods upstairs yet? Mr. Vankaskerkin might be waiting for his breakfast." With a frown of mild reproof, he seizes the handle of the basket and heads for the stairs.
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