Session Ten, Part One: Decent, Law-Abiding Citizens?
Di'Fier
"Look at this." The young guardsman turned the object over in his hands while his partner ate.
"Look at what?"
"This brick has a seam around it."
A pause. "Bash it open."
For once, Di'Fier reflected, his partner might be on the right track. Setting the brick down on the table, he pulled out his dagger and began working the mortar free.
With a grunt of disgust, Dru reached over and plucked the brick from in front of him. "Hey!" he protested.
"Like this." The elven guard's wiry muscles contracted, slamming the brick down into the table with a sharp
crack. The top of the brick split into two, and then the pieces fell away from the other half. Dru frowned. "It's solid all the way through. Why would you put a seam on a brick..."
Di'Fier interrupted her by reaching out for the broken halves. Tipping them over onto their sides, he fitted them back together, and both guardsmen looked down to see the sigil imprinted on the surface in golden ink: the symbol of the Unspeakable One...the Yellow Sign.
Nine of the Clock - Warehouse District - the Hall of Records
"Reed." Dru leaned over the stout man's desk with a small smile - one of her rare genuine ones. "How's it going?"
The man looked up from his stack of filing with a snarl - but it quickly changed to a wide grin when he saw who was in his office. "Dru...Di'Fier. I thought you was Verlaine's thugs come back again."
The Watchmen looked at each other.
There's something to come back to, thought Di'Fier as he took a step forward. "We're looking for information on a man named Gil of Highgate. Does he own any property in the city? Especially in the merchant's quarter...maybe near the Street of Flowers?"
Reed grunted, moved to one of the racks of papers as he quickly sorted through them. "I don't recall anyone from out of town owning land out there," he muttered, his blunt fingers flipping with surprising agility through the sheaves.
As he hunted on, Dru leaned up against the wall. "What did Verlaine's men want, anyway?"
Her question brought a derisive snort from the clerk. "They was lookin' for a map of the sewers. Wanted to know if they could get across the city underground, into the Merchant's Quarter. 'course they sealed all that off, locked it up so no theives or nothin' could get in. Left marks all over my maps, too." Finally he finished his searching. "Nope, no Gil of Highgate owns property 'round there," he said, with assurance.
Di'Fier pondered these new pieces of information. "Could we see that map that they were looking at?"
"Sure. I haven't even put it away yet." The clerk unrolled it on top of the papers already on his desk, and jabbed at it. "Just look at that."
The pair dutifully followed his accusing finger - there was indeed a smudge, in the Eastern District. Di'Fier looked at the street it was on. "That's where the temple was..."
Dru's finger traced along a faint crease in the map, a barely perceptible line threading its way through the tunnels under the city, until it reached its destination...in the Merchant's District.
Ten of the Clock - Merchant's District
Dru
Di'Fier lifted his hand, and the massive raven took to the air, circling as it rose, then winged its way across the city.
"Spruce will love that," Dru observed dryly. "He'll treat it like some kind of secret mission."
Di'Fier grinned. "I like to give him some excitement. Maybe this Gil person has a warrant out for his arrest somewhere..."
"All right. Let's go talk to some merchants." Unconsciously, Dru cracked her knuckles. "I'm sure that the decent, law-abiding citizens of Freeport would have no problem helping the Guard." They hadn't taken more than a dozen steps before Dru nudged her partner. Without speaking a word, the pair of them turned the corner and then waited.
The small man that Dru had spotted tailing them hurried around the corner, only to nearly collide with his quarry. Dru smiled sweetly - the exact inverse of the smile she had given Reed earlier. "Can I help you?"
The man turned as pale as his dusky skin would allow. "Perhaps...perhaps it is
Iwho can help
you..."
Dru's brow furrowed. "Talk, and talk fast. I don't like being followed."
The man turned even more pale, if that were possible. "Perhaps...a more comfortable setting? A drink?"
Merchant's District - The Trade Winds Tavern
"My name is Gheldeig," the man began. "I am a moneychanger. I heard that you were looking for a missing person."
The Guards nodded, slowly. Dru leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, regarding the man coolly.
"You see, my booth is very near the Platinum Quill, and I could not help but overhear what the proprietor said to you," the man explained. "But I did see the young man that you are looking for. He met with Catellion, the owner of the Quill - they spent a good deal of time discussing their business, and then he signed some papers. I couldn't hear what he said, but Catellion pointed him towards the Silent Siren."
"That is interesting," mused Di'Fier. "
Very interesting."
His partner leaned forward, as if finally taking an interest in the conversation. "You're near the Quill. Have you ever seen a short man, with dark hair in braids, smells of cologne all the time?"
"Yes...yes, I believe I have seen him at the Quill once or twice."
"Very interesting indeed. You've been quite a help, Gheldeig."
The small man smiled. "As a decent, law-abiding citizen of this city, it was my pleasure."
Eleven of the Clock - Merchant's District
"This is the place," said Dru.
"What is? This booth?"
The elf nodded. "The woman who works here is a shuffler - she buys and sells stolen paperwork. Chances are if they're trying to sell the contracts, she'll have heard of it."
The young woman looked up, and when she spotted Dru her eyes widened. Before the pair could even speak, she said in a quavering voice, "You're here about the contracts. I haven't bought them."
Dru frowned. Usually people didn't react like that until
after she tried to intimidate them. It was a little disconcerting. She closed her mouth and composed herself, then demanded, "Why not?"
This was the second time that day that her innocent questions caused someone to nearly fly into a panic. "I...I was instructed not to..."
Di'Fier stepped smoothly forward, waving the indignant Dru back with his hand. "But you have been approached, have you not? What did the seller look like?"
"He was a northerner. Tall, broad shouldered, bright red hair." She paused a moment. "Always seemed like it was too hot for him."
"Was he sweating?" The woman flinched away from Dru's question like it was a crossbow bolt.
"Y-yes."
"All right," said Di'Fier carefully. "I think we can snare him. I have a plan..."
We've got to get some literary goodness in here to balance all this pulpy adventure.
