Braddon swallows another mouthful and looks to Natinilinus.
"Are you any good at moving beds? Lil has great taste in beds. I think only she's slept in it. It smells of her but it looks comfy. Gristav wouldn't let me try it." Braddon glares at his 'brother'.
"I'd like to move it to my place anyway."
"Braddon intends only very narrow company in future. What with his door only opening by inches. Although... IF we had a venue, the bed of the famous harlot would bring a certain gravitas. To the right venue. Or perhaps the wrong venue. Come, let us see and scent in situ."
"Very well," Natinilinus announces dramatically, pushing back his sticky plate with seemingly no recognition that Braddon is still eating. "Take me to this harlot's bed!"
Mistress Crispin, emerging from the tavern door at the same moment, gasps audibly and glares suspiciously at the table as a whole.
Snake and Lucky wait on the casino's main floor for a few minutes, until Ethel emerges from the residential wing, a sense of purpose in her step.
Phil wishes Ethel off well with a wink and smile before turning to Snake. "She'll see to the locksmith... we should get to flipping this place bottom to top again. Make sure we haven't missed anything."
"Take me to this harlot's bed!"
"Sure."
Braddon rises, still holding his plate.
"Very well," Natinilinus announces dramatically... "Take me to this harlot's bed!"
Mistress Crispin, emerging from the tavern door at the same moment, gasps audibly and glares suspiciously at the table as a whole.
"Could we do our antiquing after breakfast, gentlemen?", Gristav says, rising as Braddon had, but with his hands empty, turning to take from Quinta the plates she'd rushed out with, a helpful grin on his face. "Quinta here does excellent work. And while that furniture isn't getting any colder, these meats aren't getting any warmer. I am going to linger..."
Gris sits, mouthing a morsel of the morning's meat ration with deserved delectation...
Until Quinta is out of sight, when a brace of gold coins are found already under the nearest napkin, the convenient cloth hastily handled, manualed, not magicked, but nevertheless transformed from a simple serviette into a barbaric's bindle, the most of the meats, wound within.
"Let's go.", Gris says. Then, an instant later, "Leave the plate!"
Phil wishes Ethel off well with a wink and smile before turning to Snake. "She'll see to the locksmith... we should get to flipping this place bottom to top again. Make sure we haven't missed anything."
Taking a deep breath through his nose, "Let's get started."
Gristav, Tendal, and Braddon escort Natinilinus and his canine companion past the House of the Silken Veil to the block of shops near the river where Lil Scarlet had her secret sanctum. The cobbler's and milliner's shops are open for business, but Nathanael Weatherby's office at the end of the building is unlit and has a desolate appearance, seemingly untouched since the last time the party searched it.
Bereft of plate, but filled with food, Braddon makes his way down the alleyway beside Nathanial Weatherby's office. He scales the steps up to the door to Lil's apartment, carefully stepping over the cantankerous step, and reaches out to the door handle.
He pauses and turns to Gristav.
"Who had the keys?"
"As before...", Gristav says, prestidigitating from more secure storage, "I have the keys."
"Let's refresh and relaunch, for the dwarf's scent, shortly?" Gris was aware of the pun, but it failed to buoy him.
Never having been in at the present location Tendal does his best to look bored: quietly twirling his cane, flicking his sleeves and occasionally yawning, all the while staying keenly alert to the sounds of the neighborhood for any hint of disturbance.
I would love to ask who's office this is... he thinks glancing up at the sign.
Lil's flat consists of a single room, running perhaps two-thirds of the length of the building. The only two windows are on either side of the door and are heavily curtained for privacy; the side walls slant up the interior of the roofline to the ceiling. In front of one of the windows is the tall metal stand which appears to have held Lil's bird's cage.
In addition, the apartment contains a small wooden table with two chairs, a dressing table with a mirror and low cushioned stool, a chest of drawers, a standing wardrobe, and a round canopied bed in pride of place in the center of the back wall like a throne on a dais. The scent of her perfume, once strong, has now faded and is only noticeable with one's nose put to the bedsheets. The room, uninhabited for two weeks now, has grown dusty with neglect.
Braddon looks around carefully for any signs of recent disturbance, before gesturing at the bed and declaring, "Great. It's still here. We need to get it back to the Goblin."
Braddon looks around carefully for any signs of recent disturbance, before gesturing at the bed and declaring, "Great. It's still here. We need to get it back to the Goblin."
"Not today. We're racing the sun, unless you want to test that ghost in the dark. When Greatreave's done, you might loot the linens, but first, we don't have time to disassemble and portage the bed, and, second, you have no room, in which it will fit. All that said, I'll help you make it all a trophy. When we've found our missing men."
"True, we have little time for such distractions. Judging by the dust, the bed will still be here tomorrow, or the next day."
Natinilinus strolls into the flat after the men. "You brought us here last week," he reminds Gristav and Braddon. "I presume you are still seeking the same woman? I regret to say that Sludge has not stumbled across her scent anywhere in Riddleport. And the dwarf? When last you brought me here, it was a human, female, aged, you were seeking in tandem with the harlot. My associate uncovered a packet secreted beneath a bed in a row house in Windward."
Phillip and Snake set themselves to a fresh search of the Gold Goblin, beginning with the ground floor. From the dust in evidence everywhere but the bar which Bojasc appears largely to have emptied and some of the surfaces in the kitchen, it appears that the cleaning staff haven't come to work in several days. It occurs to the pair that some of the other sometime employees of the Gold Goblin, such as the bartender Covey Smith, the Beyar brothers who provide security, the seamstress Fiora, or the ladies who manned the cashier's cage, might be able to provide further information about Saul's state of mind before his disappearance, if they could be contacted.
"You brought us here last week," he reminds Gristav and Braddon.
Braddon shrugs.
"You asked to be brought here. I just wanted the bed moved."Braddon's eyes dart to Gristav and Tendal.
"Hardly seems fair to come back here and then not let me take it..." Braddon sulks under his breath.
Smoothing out his mustache Phil suggests "Shall we below first? One supposes that it might be worth crossing paths with those others in Saul's employ as well... perhaps after the locksmith's seen us secure?"
"You brought us here last week," he reminds Gristav and Braddon."Which is why I framed the prestidigitation...", Gristav begins to defend...
Braddon shrugs.
"You asked to be brought here. I just wanted the bed moved."
Braddon's eyes dart to Gristav and Tendal.
"Hardly seems fair to come back here and then not let me take it..." Braddon sulks under his breath.
"You.have.no.place.to.put.this.bed.it'stoobigforyourroom.", Gristav says, losing his patience but gathering speed, trying poor diction where good logic had failed. "I'll help you solve all that later. Perhaps we clean THIS room, and you test how full you can make that bed with your enviable good looks. I pledge to your help, and I don't care the details, but AFTER the dwarf is returned to his growsing chair at the Goblin's table. I've a desire to see your gram avenged, I've a duty to hunt after Saul, but I care mostly about the dwarf, and not at all about the bed. If the bed distracts us again, I may set fire to it."
Turning to Natinilinus, Gristav says, "To the Goblin, now?"
Smoothing out his mustache Phil suggests "Shall we below first? One supposes that it might be worth crossing paths with those others in Saul's employ as well... perhaps after the locksmith's seen us secure?"
Nodding, "Below works for me. And speaking to some of the others Saul hired on sounds like a good idea. Maybe they'll know something about the Fat Man we missed. You figure one of them is bound too."
Phillip and Snake procure lamps to conduct their tour of the basement and then head down the stairs from the kitchen, propping the door open behind them in an abundance of caution.
The basement is a single long corridor. One door leads to a wine cellar; the next to Larur's oft-searched bedroom. Neither one shows any signs of recent activity. A stairway leads down to the sub-basement where Nathanael Weatherby had been detained for interrogation; straight ahead is a door which leads into the viewing area for the disused fighting pit.
Turning to Natinilinus, Gristav says, "To the Goblin, now?"
"Fine," Braddon grumbles. "At least I got breakfast."
"Best to start in the depths entire before ascending." gesturing and leading on towards the sub-basement.
Phillip and Snake descend the narrow staircase to the subbasement. The first door off the corridor leads to a disused infirmary where injured animals from the fighting pit were once treated, under a previous owner of the Gold Goblin. Faint rusty stains on the floor and table give evidence of blood being spilled here, but there is nothing remotely recent. A rickety cabinet stands in one corner.
The next room is the former kennel, where cages of various sizes held the animals which would be set on each other in the pit. A few of the larger cages have seen recent use imprisoning Thuvalia after the opening-night robbery and Nathanael Weatherby before he was delivered to the Gendarmerie, so this room hasn't the same general air of disuse as the infirmary.
From the kennel, there is a direct corridor leading into the fighting pit. Sand still covers the floor in here, for its uses in absorbing blood and preventing the fighting surface from becoming slippery. Triangular pillars of stone create cover and ambush points for the combatants. The ceiling is open to a yawning blackness where, above, the spectators would sit, their view unobstructed by the obstacles the animals had to maneuver.
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Meanwhile, upstairs, Braddon, Gristav, Tendal, and the gnome and his dog arrive at the Goblin's back door.
"Bottom to top it is." Snake follows the halfling, Lucky right behind him.
"So far not much..." showing a similar interest in looking over the cabinet.
Braddon quietly makes his way into the kitchen.
The infirmary cabinet, thick with dust, holds rolls of linen bandage, wooden laths cut in varying lengths and widths to be used as splints, needles, and spools of catgut. In the bottom of the cabinet, dropped in a careless heap, are used bandages, presumably intended to be washed and used again but instead stuck together in a rotting tangle of dried blood and pus. Empty shelves, some with visible rings, indicate that other supplies such as alcohol or medicines were removed when the fighting pit was abandoned; however, a clinking sound when the rolls of linen are touched reveals that a single dusty vial must have fallen behind them and been missed.
Braddon's greeting echoes back to him in the empty main floor. Natinilinus's expression evinces distaste at the sight of the messy kitchen. "I would certainly not eat any griddlecakes cooked in here," he announces. "Have you any?" he goes on hopefully.
"No. Why do think we breakfast with you?"
The gnome harrumphs. Sludge slides his long nose into one of the picked-over bakery's baskets and scarfs a stale pastry.
Finding the bottle, Snake picks it up and examines it. Handing it over to the halfling, "Here, you might need this at some point. You ever find yourself bleeding out, I'd recommend drinking this." Hearing a yell from above, "Sounds like the fun bunch is back. I don't think there's anything else down here, I say we move to the next floor above and put the others to work."
"Mind, we could. We've flour, and a griddle I recall amongst the ironmongery. But no milk nor egg nor anything to lend hints nor redolence. I do have a recipe for flour and fruit and fat, on a fireside rock, but I don't think my spirits might stand any comparison to Quinta's quintessential exquisitries - at least, not any honest comparison. Besides, the dwarf remains unfound, and loved ones at the harlot's mercy..."
Gristav stopped talking, instead driving his staff into the floor, then waving it forward, as if parting a crowd along the path he took, toward Larur's office.
Snake and Phillip climb back up to the corridor of the basement proper.
----------------------
Gristav leads the way out onto the main floor of the casino and into the southern wing of the Gold Goblin. Larur's office appears unchanged from any previous visits.
Tendal glances over at the gnome with momentary surprise when he mentions taking time to cook.
Gnomes. Like small children in a room full of baubles, I thought that Greatreave here might have grown beyond his base instincts, but we each tend to return to our core. Tendal thought, unaware of any hints of irony.
"As Gristav says, while we all might tarry to experiment with cooking griddlecakes, I do not believe that we might be more successful than any neophyte scullion. We have much more interesting challenges before us, so why waste time and energy, when we know that once our tasks are overcome, there exist excellent griddlecakes for the buying?"
With that Tendal heads up to the office, curious to see if there have been any changes as he had not inspected the room when they returned from the Cove.
Snake and Phillip take a left turn toward where the corridor ends in a door in the wall. On the other side, the door's surface is dressed so that its existence is concealed, covered with a gaudy wallpaper and its latch recessed so that only those who knew the trick could easily open it.
On one side, benches surround a stone wall around an opening in the floor, which yawns down into blackness; below is the sand-covered fighting pit, but it is imperceptible from here without any lighting. On the other side of the corridor, a small bar, covered with dust, would offer refreshment to the patrons of the underground club. A staircase leads up to the main floor.
The gnome and his dog crowd into the spartan office with its clean desk, hard wooden chairs, and key cabinet hanging on the wall. Natinilinus looks around with interest; the dog, with apathy. "The dwarf spent a great deal of time here? How long ago?"
"Days. And I've been in thrice since. There's a bedroom as well, opened only twice. Bedding would be undisturbed, if I hadn't gathered a pillowcase to take to breakfast." Gristav's tone and gaze were level and unlilted. "There next?", he asked.
The gnome shakes his head sadly. "You should have had us here immediately. Sludge could undoubtedly have tracked your dwarf friend's very steps from this office. But, yes, to the bedroom. Everything here is hard surfaces, very uncongenial to retaining a scent."
Braddon watches the others searching, shrugs and decides to help. He starts making his way through the kitchen cupboards and pantry.
The gnome shakes his head sadly. "You should have had us here immediately. Sludge could undoubtedly have tracked your dwarf friend's very steps from this office. But, yes, to the bedroom. Everything here is hard surfaces, very uncongenial to retaining a scent."
"A hazard of knowing oneself to be a fool, is being easy to convince of one's folly. I allowed my concern to be tempered and delayed by those I saw - and see - as more clever.", Gristav explains.
"This way, to the bedroom."
Tendal stands by the door, idly tapping his cane against the doorframe.
Phillip and Snake take the staircase up to the former entrance to the fighting pit. The closed-off room, its door wallpapered over on the outside, would seem to make an ideal place for someone to secret away anything they wanted to conceal. When the reach the top of the stairs, however, and shine their lights around the dusty, cobwebbed room, they see no sign of recent passage, nor is there anything of interest in the empty and disused room.
--------------------------
In the meantime, Gristav escorts Natinilinus and his dog through the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement. Larur's room lies behind the second door, and he lets the pair in to sniff at the narrow bed with its thin mattress and the motheaten fur rug spread across the floor.
Braddon looks up forlornly from the empty cupboard in front of him, absent-mindedly swings its door shut and follows Gristav and the gnome downstairs.