The local gossip was a jovial-looking man called Winking Jim Forthright. When Tippy stumbled into him (literally), Jim was sitting at a table in the bar sharing a drink with some equally jovial friends. "You must be that cleric fellow who's just arrived in the city," said Jim. "I gather you're looking for a chintz dragon called Flora?"
"Er, yes," said Tippy, wondering how this man knew so much. Jim winked and tapped the side of his nose with a finger. "News travels fast," he said knowingly. "You need to talk to Seamus O'Rock," he continued, "He runs a wheelwright's business in the Old Quarter. What he doesn't know about cloth dragons isn't worth a packet of snails."
"Er, thank you, you are remarkably well-informed."
"It's what I'm here for, lad. Now, what's the low-down on the Duke's new bride?"
And so Tippy told Jim all he knew about Terri House-Tranger, including the story about how she faced The Machine of Lum the Madder and used the Ring of Three Fishes to overcome it with a lacrosse raquet.1 Jim nodded, and filed the information away in his head for later. His friend Gene The Genial Genealogist would be interested, especially in the bit about her descent from the IXth Duke of Strathbogle. There were stories about his nephew, the XIth Duke, that would make a bald man's hair curl.
Just then, Dumbar came by to tell Tippy and the others that their rooms were ready, that dinner for four would be served in an adjoining room and it was a pleasure to accomodate such fine people. He glanced at Jim when he said this and certain thoughts were exchanged, as a result of which, although they didn't know it, the party's standing in the city went up several notches. Knowing people was Dumbar's job, and when Dumbar approved of people, they were approved of.
The rooms were simple but well-furnished and after a hearty meal of mutton stew avec extra dumplings à la maison they all retired to bed, tired out by the strange events that had befallen them.
At midnight, as the temple bells struck bong o'clock, Albert crept out of his room and prowled the corridors looking for something to steal. He didn't need the money, but he felt obliged to do it as a matter of professional pride. It was an old inn, much altered over the centuries and the corridors were quaintly maze-like with unexpected corners, false stairs, blind windows, doors that connected through to themselves and so on. After a while, having gone some distance trying doorhandles, he found a room that was unlocked and there seemed to be nobody about, so he stealthily crept in and stealthily crept around the room looking for valuables to snatch. This was what he had trained for. It was all very well going around with the others for mutual protection and whatnot, but thieving was a skilled job best left to experts like him.
A purse of coins lying innocently on a table was an obvious trap. It was easy to disarm, he knew all about traps like that and, indeed, used them himself on occasion. A pair of leather boots in a wardrobe were no better than his own spare pair and would only sell for coppers if that, so he left them and turned his attention elsewhere. There wasn't much. He was about to give up on this room and try further down the corridor when, turning to leave, he noticed a coat hanging on the back of the door that looked remarkably like his own. He was struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu. He had been robbing his own room. Oops.2
Early next morning, before Rosy-Fingered Dawn3 arrived to chase away his slumber, Macfeece woke with a start to find a shadowy figure floating beside his bed. The figure moaned: "Don't eat the cheese! Don't eat the cheese!" over and over again until it got really quite annoying. He asked the ghost (for such it was) what was wrong with the cheese, but got no reply - it was as if the ghost hadn't heard him. He reached for his Manual of Ghostly Hauntings and lit a candle on the bedside table to read it by; at that, the ghost vanished as if it had never been and he was left wondering if it had ever really happened.
When Macfeece related the ghostly encounter at breakfast, Tippy did a quick Augury over a block of cheese and the answer was Woe Unto Thee! Thrice Woe! which is pretty bad. He cast Prunify Food and Drink, just to be on the safe side, and a whole mass of cheese moth caterpillars came wriggling out of the block of cheese because if there's one thing they can't stand, it's the flavour of prunes.
"You had a lucky escape," remarked Tasha, gobbling up the caterpillars with gusto, "Those things are deadly poison to humans."
1 It wasn't quite like that, but the story has grown in the telling.
2 Tricky one, this. If he genuinely didn't know he was robbing himself, should he get the XP anyway?
3 No, I'm not being Homeric. Dawn was the chambermaid who went around before anyone else was up, making up the fires in the grates and filling the jugs on the washstands. She wasn't always very quiet.
