The Cellar
[section]
Hashlan's cat-like eyes looked deep into Derngar's, the little Halfling feeling a measure of confidence seeping into his posture as the bold human brought himself down to Hashlan's perspective. He wondered if Derngar would be so brave if this was where his eyes sat: low, always in shadow, always dwarfed by those around him. The Halfling remembered that once, his grandfather had told him that
his people were great warriors themselves … but surely the man was just old and confused. That couldn't be true.
” Trust you. Yes. Yes, I do,” Hashlan affirmed, clearing his throat quietly,
” Silas is like you. Human. Old, though, very old it seems. Salted hair and sad. A Courier, he brought a package here. Keeps it in some tube of metal. He did not give it to anyone, I don't think. Showed it to Rashimi once. Told it to the man who was taken. Said to Rashimi that he was looking for something here: he stays in the basement level, down the hall to the left, go right, three doors down on the left. Reads a strange book when I bring him food. Pays with proper golden Towers, not the Wands the rest do.”
Rána easily finds that the way out is actually built into the wall: a circle that, once reached into, has a horizontal handle. A clockwise twist of it elicits a muted
*thunk*, a segment of the wall giving way and swinging inwards freely.
Fitz's ransacking of the shelves turns up little aside from alcohol and bottled water. Some of it looks like it's from ages ago, while others clearly bear the seal of Sector Seven, where foodstuff is produced in abundance. There also appears to be a few bottles of some type of oil: a quick investigation reveals them to be made from rapeseed.[/section]
Main Floor
[section]
Okten tried not to give anything away from his solid face, but the way he chewed on his lower lip was enough to show that the idea that Ordinator Absalom could show up at any minute to spend time with this girl was enough to unnerve the Hobgoblin. To commit some offense that the Ordinator saw, real or imagined, would be enough to have his head cleaved from his neck. Or worse.
Okten had heard of terrible things that had befallen those who
lived Absalom's tremendous wrath. That this … this
Half-blood was somehow still alive after spending such … close time with Absalom either showed that he cared a great deal for her, or that she had somehow bewitched the Ordinator. But the latter made no sense to Okten: though 'passionate' at his pursuit of Justice, Absalom was nothing is not stoic. The girl could not have had a hold over him, but
he valued the girl. For all Okten could do, he could not lay one finger on Lorelei: she was, for lack of better terms, invincible where the Hob's authority was regarded.
But that didn't mean he could not use her. She offered her assistance, and if
she helped them in their search, surely it would keep the rest of these folks in line. Okten cracked a small, broken smile at the Half-Elf, sipping slowly from the drink she had handed him while nodding.
” An excellent suggestion, Songbird,” he growled, his title for her having just a bit more bite on his tongue than before,
” A model of loyalty. Would that all of your kind could learn from your example, which I am sure you will undoubtedly prove today. One way or another.”
The implication was clear: if she did not produce results, Okten would be all too happy to nail her to a cross for this clear challenge to his power.
” Go with my men. They will keep a close eye on you, however, and I must remind you that they are not His Eminence.”
While Absalom may have been fond of Lorelei, Okten was not. With a small nod to his men, they had their orders: if Lorelei stepped out of line, then the Captain would find a way to explain to The Ordinator that she had had … an accident, in some secluded place of this whorehouse. This was such a dangerous Sector, after all.
As Okten gave the signal to his own, Rashimi was signaling Lorelei herself: her eyes flitted to the floor again and again, her hands wringing together nervously.[/section]