Livbovic purses his lips, thinking.
"I've told you all the most obvious places. There will certainly be other references, but the index only lists the most major references."
He slides a large and battered tome across the table at Ella and Valana.
"I would start by reading everything you can about the sewers. If you'll excuse me, I have a 12 volume set of dark elf histories that will not translate themselves."
* * *
Aeshen finds himself in Randle's, a cozy bar on Four Fountains Street. His questions about ratlings and sewers and the like are met with laughter: The bar is one frequented by clerks from Dalenguard, merchants and members of the City Watch. What they know of ratlings, they know from rumors. But there's a high-stakes game of knife-tossing going on, and Aeshen finds himself drawn in as the sun creeps across the sky.
* * *
Mairan, Mata and Thurst find the Bankers' Guild without too much trouble on Palace Road, in the literal shadow of Dalenguard. A pair of enormous men flank the door -- 7 feet tall, they guess, and a certain heavy-browed and dark-eyed cast to their features makes the trio think there's more than a little ogre in their background. Lucky for them, however, the pair are waiting for representatives from Kunstlerhaus and they're ushered inside with a grunt and a nod.
The guildhouse itself is not a bank or vault itself, but one wouldn't know it at a glance. The guildhouse resembles a gilt fortress, and the group wanders under a series of raised portcullises and the black eyes of murder holes before entering a foyer brilliantly lit by lanterns and torches, the light reflecting off precious metals, idols of various gods and goddesses of wealth, security and soldiers.
There's a great deal of discussion among the black-clad bankers as Mairan and the dwarves look around the foyer, and footsteps of a runner sent to find the guildmaster echo down one corridor.
Several minutes later, Guildmaster Chuster Nogol enters the foyer. He's a thin man with male pattern baldness he fights with a combover of his thinning mousy brown hair. He wears glasses and is fastidiously dressed, wearing both his guild badge and a signet ring Mata thinks bears the seal of one of the city's noble houses.
"Who are you? Surely not Kunstler's staff. Where are the rest of you? Is this a joke? The terms of our deal were very clear."
In the midst of his interrogation, he holds up one finger and then sneezes violently.
"Dust, you're absolutely covered in dust."
He pulls out a handkerchief edged in gold thread and loudly blows his nose.
"Well, don't just stand there, say something!"
