Ever complains to Folly that he's still under surveillance by the watch. "You know, Folly, it's only because you and Martin and Reid came down and spoke up for me that Sir Archer let me go. I couldn't have done it because you said so, never mind that Linden and Stoat and a couple of dozen others at the Pickled Grouse can testify where I was at the time of the fire." He shakes his head. "Now that I've been marked as a troublemaker, I'll be dragged in every time Sir Archer needs a convenient suspect! Unless you're looking, of course."
"Well, I'll just have to keep looking, then, 'til he figures it out," she says. "I think one of my cousins may know Sir Archer -- maybe I'll ask her to remind him that harassing the innocent is not part of his job description."
Ever shrugs. "That's nice for me, Folly, but it doesn't solve the real problem. Sir Archer's not looking for the real culprit, he's just making sure he has someone to blame when people like your cousins come asking."
Folly sighs and wrinkles her nose. "I was afraid of that," she says.
"If you really want to find out who burned Heap's shop, get Reid to chase it down. He's good at that kind of thing. He sniffed out Carver and Bliss and them. I'll bet he can sniff out who did the job on Heap."
Folly nods. "Good plan. It wouldn't surprise me if he's already on it."
Later, Folly mentions to Paige that Archer seems to be hunting scapegoats rather than suspects. To Reid, Folly offers her assistance in tracking down the real culprit, "...unless what you need is a 'bad cop'. I'm really bad at that."
Reid replies, "I'm rather hazy on the notion of 'good cop/bad cop' myself... I'm much more comfortable laying it on the table as I see it. So far, it has done fine getting the results I want."
Paige invites her father's friend Sir Archer to join her and Worth for dinner one evening at the Prince.
[GMs]
Sir Archer accepts. What are the topics of conversation?
Small talk intially, but Paige would like to hit the following points by the end...
o The Heap investigation, and why Ever was thought to be a suspect, [and Stout's if that's occurred by the time of the dinner...]
"Oh, we're just fishing. If you're sure the boy is clean, Lady Paige, he's clean. Besides, we don't see any connection between him and the responsible party, so there wasn't a real reason to keep him; he just wasn't the first to be processed out."
Archer shrugs. "What is it about him? You know, three of your cousins asked about him or checked up on him. Must be nice for an apprentice luthier to have so many friends at the castle."
"As much as it is for the captain of the watch, Sir Archer." Paige raises her glass to him. "And really, if you must know, he's truly dear to just one of us, but the Regency Council watches out for their own. As you said, it's good to have friends."
o The rash of dockside thefts,
"We've had some reports, but nothing concrete. If you're interested, I can put someone on it."
"Yes, I'd think it might warrant it. Contact myself if you come across anything, or maybe Reid. I'd prefer to talk directly. You can have someone leave a message at the Prince if needs be."
o The general state of the City and any impact the current religious fervor might have on it.
"I wouldn't say there's religious fervor in the city, Lady Paige. Certainly there are some apocalyptic cults acting up lately, but I have no reason to suspect that more people have actually gotten religion." He says that last the way you might say _went to Guyana for some punch_.
"Good to know. I've heard that some might even be emmigrating out, so it might quiet down some. Have you seen a lot of people moving, Sir Archer? Other than those finding their way at the edge of Arden, that is..."
"You know, I believe I would say the city's a little less crowded than she should be. I've noticed some of our regular troublemakers aren't around any more, but I couldn't tell you where they went. I'm sure some resettled in Garnath, and I sent a couple of good kids -- kids who were going to get themselves into trouble if they stayed in town -- to the Rangers myself. Does that account for the full number who are no longer here? I can't be sure."
He picks up his mug in his damaged left hand. The pinky is the only full finger he has on that hand; the other three and the thumb are all gone past the first joint, but the injury is old and does not seem to hinder him in any way.
[OOC: my father had the exact same missing finger pattern after fireworks went off in his hand when he was a boy, and he never had any visible difficulties.]
At the Pickled Grouse, Reid's old friend Stoat sidles up to him one night between sets. "I hear you're lookin' into who burned down Heap's place. I don't know who did the job, but I can put you on the scent of a guy who would. Innerested?"
"Always, good friend. Always. What can I buy you?" Reid replies.
"Since you're buying, a pint of Linden's best." Stoat cracks a grin.
Ales in hand, the two of you retreat to a corner booth, where you can speak in privacy.
"There's a fellow I've heard of who can find guys who do things like that. He does other stuff himself -- sells things, ya know? -- but he's got connections. His name is Wrack, and I heard you can find him at the pawnshop over on Cuttlefish Way. He doesn't officially work there or anything, and they'll probably deny knowing who he is, but you being, well --" Stoat shrugs. "Ask them nice, offer some baksheesh, and maybe they'll remember."
Reid follows through on Stoat's suggestions the following afternoon, close to closing time at the shop in question.
The shop has no name, but does have the three balls that have been the sign of the pawnshop from before Reid's youth. The fellow behind the counter is edging towards middle age, going slightly to seed, and bordering on surliness.
"Can I help you?" he says, and doesn't mean it.
"Hi, pleased to meet you," Reid replies, with the same amount of sincerity. Reid looks around the shop. What kinds of stuff are for sale?
"I'm Reid, son of Osric Prince of Amber."
He gives you a look that says, _and I'm the son of King Oberon_.
"Nice place you got here. Sell much art? I'm an artist. Bet you could make a good amount to some socialite selling a painting by Amber royalty." If Reid spots any obvious forgeries he adds, "By REAL Amber royalty."
The pawnshop doesn't have any art. It's full, almost overfull, of a variety of things, but mostly things that would be useful to people of the lower middle and lower classes. There are household goods and furnishings, but also a lot of artisans' tools, particularly things that would be useful to sailors and shipwrights.
The prices seem a little low to Reid, even for a pawnshop.
Reid assumes anything of value is in a back or hidden room...
"Of course, such a thing wouldn't have to cost you anything. I'm just trying to make friends." Reid starts stacking coins on the counter. "You know, one day my face might be on these coins," he sighs, as if its a burden.
_And if I believed that, you'd try to sell me a bridge over the Oisen, too._
"But until then, well, they're still worth the same, eh? Like I said, I'm just trying to meet new people. I hear Wrack knows a lot of people. How might I meet him, do you suppose?"
Wrack's name gets his attention. He looks at Reid, takes in how well Reid is dressed (even if the cut of his clothes is common, they are still made of the best materials, and not worn in the way one associates with shabby gentility) and the size and quality of the stack of coins Reid has just placed on his counter.
His expression is lodged in that special, indecisive place between greed and fear.
"Well, Lord Reid," he says after a minute, "if I knew this Wrack person, I might be able to introduce you."
He watches to see whether the height of the stack increases.
With one move, Reid sets a stack of equal size next to the first. With one hand, he neatly shuffles the coins, interleaving the two stacks into one, before returning his hand to his side.
"You were saying?"
"If you came back tomorrow, Lord Reid, I could probably arrange a meeting with Wrack in the meantime." He does not (yet) reach for the coins, but he looks at them very hard.
Reid extends a finger to tip the stack onto the counter. He waves his hand over it, spreading the coins in an arc and collecting about a quarter of them in one move. "Til tomorrow then," he says, before turing and leaving.
When Reid returns the next day (I assume he returns, anyway), the same fellow is behind the counter. The coins are, of course, long gone.
He says, more deferentially, "Lord Reid, if you'll come this way, please," and ushers Reid into the back of the shop. There's an office with a large desk and a couple of chairs, and a very nice painting, though Reid doesn't recognize the style. In fact, everything in the office is rather nice. Wrack is in the office.
"Come in, come in," he says, and urges Reid to take a seat. He offers Reid a glass of whiskey, and pours himself one whether Reid has one or not. The glass and decanter are cut crystal, good enough to be used in the castle. The whiskey, if Reid samples it, is also good enough for the castle.
"I understand you're looking for me. Lope wasn't very specific about what you wanted, but he's not the sort of fellow you'd want to trust with certain personal information. If you'll tell me what you want, I'll see if we can do business. You'll have my discretion either way, of course."
Once Lope has returned to the front of the shop, Reid begins.
[GMs]
[Lope was gone before Wrack offered Reid a drink.]
"I appreciate that. I understand that you are a man who can get things done, and that you know a number of similarly inclined men. I admire that. Unfortunately the people who hire men such as yourself sometimes come at odds with the interests of the Royal family, and as such, myself. In a recent case of particular interest to the Family, Heap's printing shop was set fire to. Now you and I both know that Sir Archer isn't the most competent investigator in the world, and he happened to mistakenly go after a friend of mine. Actually, that's neither here nor there. I'm really only interested in the arsonist if he was doing it of his on volition. I suspect, however, that he was hired, and if that is the case, I AM particularly interested in who his employer may have been for this contract."
"I realize that it may not seem to be in your best interest to divulge such information to me. Perhaps it isn't.
"Let's say you could find a credible witness willing to testify that he overheard the hiring of the contract. The actual contractor's identity could have been disguised or hidden in shadow. His identity doesn't need to come out. Your man remains safe, it is the blundering of the employer that is his downfall, and you yourself are rewarded in whatever ways may interest you.
"Just an idea. If it is not to your liking, we can discuss other ones."
Wrack, fingers steepled in front of him, listens to Reid, and after he has finished, remains silent for a minute. Then he says, "Reid, I like you. I think you and I can do business; we seem to think along similar enough lines.
"Now, I've done a bit of asking around about you, and I hear a lot of interesting things. One of them is that you're the son of Prince Osric, and that you've been away from Amber since the late King Eric was a small child. I gather you're trying to make a place in this brave new Amber you find yourself in, but you're not quite sure where yet. You've made a very good start by getting out of the Castle every now and again. But gigging at the Grouse won't teach you all there is to know about this city either."
Wrack leans back comfortably in his chair and takes a drink of his whiskey. "What I'm trying to say in my long-winded way is that you need to do a little more research before you talk business with me. Sir Archer isn't the most competent investigator in the world, but he's more competent than that. I think you should talk to him, and come back in two days. Then we can talk about whatever arrangements you want to make."
Wrack smiles, and it's genuine. "Normally I charge for that kind of advice, but for you, Reid, I'm willing to make an exception. I won't even ask what you plan to do with the person ultimately responsible for the burning of Heap's shop."
Reid approaches his glass for the first time and lifts it in a toast. "To geese, and those who chase them." After he finishes his glass, he returns it to its place before rising. "Along those lines, there's been a rash of thefts lately. Like most rashes, it has become irritating." Reid takes a closer look at the painting before continuing. "Perhaps it is time for the thief to take a vacation with his spoils. But we can discuss that too in two days."
He starts towards the door, then, as an afterthought turns around and offers his handshake across the desk. "A pleasure meeting you."
Wrack has a firm handshake. "The pleasure is mutual."
Off to make an appointment with Archer.
On his way out of the shop, he gives the rest of the promised coins to Lope.
Lope is courteous enough not to dive on them while Reid is still in view.
Reid has no trouble making an appointment with Sir Archer. He can have a formal in-office visit, or something more casual at a tavern. What is his preference?
"Tell Archer I'll see him in his office. This is official business we'll be discussing. It's not a social call..."
At the appointed hour, Reid arrives at Sir Archer's office. Sir Archer's office is less luxuriously appointed than Wrack's, and any liquor it may contain is discreetly out of sight.
"I understand you have some official business with me," says Sir Archer. "What can the watch do for you, Lord Reid?"
"I'd like to know where you and your men are in the print shop arson investigation. Any information you might be able to share regarding suspects, motives, leads, evidence, rumors or anything else you've got on the matter."
"I'll have a full written report sent up to the castle tomorrow, but I can give you the executive summary of what we know, which is unfortunately about what we knew when it happened. Heap's shop was burned down; a witness saw a blond man of about middling height flee from the scene not long before the fire brigade was called; we rounded up a group of young men in the area who matched the description of the arsonist, but none of them have provable connections to Stout, so we have nothing to hold them on, and they've all been released.
"We're reasonably sure that Stout arranged the arson more or less directly, probably less so, because of his concern about the success of Heap's book _A Guide To Financial Management for Ladies_, and the rumor at the time, since proven, that he had another book in the works by the same author. He has motive and means to hire out the deed. His alibi's ironclad and he doesn't match the description of the arsonist, but it's easy enough to arrange for arson in this city if you know who to ask.
"So what I have is a crime that I'm pretty sure I know who committed, but no way to prove that the culprit is responsible. And a bunch of Royals interested in the case for no reason I can determine." He shrugs. "Anything else I can help you with?"
"The interests of Royals, as you so bluntly put it, are of no concern to you. Your lack of progress on this case, however, should warrant your concern. It was so much easier when squabbles between merchants were out in the open.
"You speak as if arson in general, and arson for hire in particular, were commonplace in Amber. Is this the case? I'm surprised I haven't heard of more instances."
Sir Archer smiles in a way that tells Reid he has made an un-friend. "There's a class of people who hire out crimes, and arson is, on occasion, one of them. I try to discourage that because I'm not too keen on the city burning down. As for my lack of progress, I'd love to have Stout in here for a discussion of exactly how Heap's shop burned down, but I seem to already be in trouble for violating the civil liberties of a Royal 'friend'." He does not say 'paramour' but Reid's keen underhearing picks it up.
[Reid]
"There's a line between questioning and violating civil liberties. Perhaps
you can re-aquaint yourself with it. In the meanwhile, I can see
discussing the matter further will garner no progress."
[Archer]
"If you have a complaint about my performance, feel free to discuss that
with Prince Gerard. I don't normally concern myself with the interests of
the Royal family, but when half the Council wanders down here to inquire or
complain what has become an increasingly complex and messy case, it becomes
my concern. Your family's internal squabbles are your own unless you make
them mine."
"I don't deign to review performances of amatures."
Sir Archer is confident that any complaint Reid makes to Gerard will be dismissed. He is also rather frustrated about the entire case and the level of official interest it has garnered.
Reid knows better than to bother Gerard with petty conflicts and would prefer to deliver the evidence to Archer on a silver platter to call the case closed.
At the requisite time, Reid returns to Wrack.
Wrack is waiting for Reid in his office and offers Reid a drink, as before. "I take it you've had a chance to chat with Sir Archer. Was your inquiry fruitful?"
"Insomuch as Stout has emerged as primary suspect, yes. Motive and means are there. Connection to the contract, however, is lacking." Reid sighs in frustration. "I really want to get this over with. Any assistance you may be able to offer myself or the Crown?"
Wrack gives an I'm-thinking sort of frown. "If all you want is the man who actually committed the arson, I can arrange for you to meet him. What happens from there would, of course, be up to you. But remember that not everyone who engages in criminal acts is what you might think of as a hardened criminal. There are a lot of hungry people in the docksides since the Sundering. "
"I realize that. As I've said before, I understand that people sometimes have to do what they have to do."
Wrack takes a sip of his drink. "Stout, now Stout's as much of a gutless coward as Heap; Heap's just honest about being one. I can arrange for a witness as you discussed, and that will get you your arsonist and Stout. But I think you need to move on this, because it's only a matter of time until Stout decides to retaliate for the vandalism of his press, and things could get out of control. I don't think any of us want that."
"Of course not. Well, before we go constructing imaginary witnesses, let me talk to the man who did it. At least he may be able to offer me some information. If that's all he can offer, it will be his word against Stout's, and that won't play well with Octave's friends. It may be that I'll need more ammunition before I can bring charges against Stout. Either way, if your man comes clean, I promise I will try to get leniency on his involvement in exchange for his cooperation."
"That'll be helpful," says Wrack.
[Reid]
"But as to quick action... I understand Stout has a strong desire for
peerage. If I went to him today and told him my suspicions and that he
was under investigation, he'd be considerably angry with me. But at the
same time, might it not quell any immediate retaliation considering how
such actions might make him look? If Stout is as weak a spine as you
suggest, could the threat of formal action against him put a halt to any
attacks he might make against Heap?"
Wrack laughs. "Stout dreams about a peerage in his wildest fantasies. What rankles him is his lack of acceptance in the circles where he sells books. He wants to come in through the front door, not the tradesman's entrance. You, you'll terrify him, but it'll thrill him that you've noticed him."
"I still worry about retaliation though. Wonder if after I talk to your man, if we keep him under wraps somewhere safe. Nothing worse in a case of taking one man's word against another than when one of them ends up dead before trial. And I could almost see it done by another arson... 'You see, he was plainly guilty! He burnt himself up by accident.'" Reid grunts like his head really doesn't want to deal with all of this.
"I hear," says Wrack, "that your family can go places no one else can go. Getting to start a new life somewhere out of Amber might be a powerful incentive to speak out. It would be one way to avoid additional, ahem, Royal displeasure."
Wrack looks thoughtful for a moment. "When you've finished with Stout, put him in jail or whatever, are you done?"
"Done in what regards? Is there more to this case? Or are you inquring about my long term law enforcement aspirations?"
"Depends on how you define the case, Reid. If your interest is solely in clearing a suspect, you'll be finished when you get your arsonist. You don't even need Stout. If your interests are broader, there may be more places to take the inquiry." Wrack gets up to pour himself another, and offers to refill Reid's glass as well.
Reid accepts. "Go on."
Wrack settles back down into his chair and searches for the correct words. Finally he says, "There are at least two sides to every story, and you've only looked into one. I don't know quite why it all started, although I could take a guess. I really don't know why it continued, because the obvious answer doesn't make any sense to me, knowing all the people involved. Your own involvement tells me that this is not an ordinary case of two shady operators going after each other."
"You're not the only person who's questioned my involvement lately. Perhaps I should just drop my pursuit altogether. Why SHOULD I take any interest in the petty squablings of two merchants, if, in fact, that's all it is?"
"It's not usual for a member of the Royal family to interest himself in this kind of thing, no."
[Reid]
"The cops are saying, 'butt out.' The crooks are saying, 'butt out.' (no
offense).
Wrack looks like he might say something here, but decides against it.
"I'd probably be happier just getting back to my art and music." Reid stands and revisits his study of the painting on the wall, trying to determine what emotions it stirs in him.
Wrack sips his whiskey. "Part of my business is knowing things, Reid, but I'm not sure I want to know too much about this case. It could be a little too rich even for me."
Reid wonders if he believes Wrack.
Wrack is more nervous than he has been at any other time during their discussions. However, his voice doesn't carry any less sincerity than it has before.
Maybe he's concerned about you complicating his life more than the friendship of a prince of Amber is worth.
"You've been a kind host, and I've probably wasted too much of your valuable time. Talk to your man. If he wants to testify I can try to have him banished to someplace... else... as punishment. It wouldn't be too bad if he wanted to get a clean start. If he is uncomfortable going against his employer, that's OK too, and I'll just leave it all in Archer's hands."
Reid senses that Wrack is a little relieved, but oddly disappointed.
He returns to his seat and picks up his glass again. "I don't know if I should thank you, pay you, or invite you to the castle for dinner some time. Listen, I'm sorry if my nosing in here has put any cramp on your business or your reputation. I do appreciate the advice."
"I'm happy to serve Amber. Being sought out for advice by a member of the Royal family only enhances my reputation." Wrack smiles. "I'll talk to the individual in question, see if he's willing to testify under Royal protection, and let you know by messenger. Or I can just tell your lad Stoat if that's more discreet."
Solange presented baby Hope with an exquisitely-worked smocked gown meant for wearing at that formal tea; its extra-long skirt was meant to help conceal just how much bigger than a newborn she was. She probably also commissioned some sort of engraved silver thingy -- porringer, baby cup, something like that -- doing her bit to make sure the jewelers in Amber don't go bankrupt.
Solace is very pleased, and is particularly grateful that the smocked gown helps to hide Hope's true age.
Lady Vesper compliments Solange on her handiwork. It's probably the nicest thing any of you have ever heard her say.
Solange is willing to accompany Jerod and try to learn how to lay a shadow path. She likes the idea especially of trying to draw a path between two Shadow points. However, if it looks like their combined absence will mean inadequate food supplies for the city, she is also willing to wait & just go about trading in the now-usual way, although she suggests that encouraging private ships to follow royal expeditions is a good thing too.
She is largely unconcerned with Vere's reports of the ramblings of the Paresh, and her main concern with the satirical cartoon is whether it makes her look hopelessly unattractive -- or at least, that's the concern she expresses to any of the young noblemen she meets with at social events. What do they have to say about it?
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about Drudge's little broadsheet," says Solange's companion. "He delights in printing whatever he thinks will outrage people the most. And it's not like he could do justice to your beauty with his cartoons anyway."
She takes more interest in the volume on property law than she did in the original financial-management book, and asks Vere to go over it with her to see if it's accurate as he understands the law.
[GMs]
[Vere: it is.]
Does that volume appear in the library in the family section too?
Yes. Nestor doesn't wait for Stout to put out an edition before obtaining a copy.
Last modified: 1 Jan 2002