Afternoons are when people start arriving in the Three Thieves, fresh off work and ready with plenty of shekels to spend on drinks and food and entertainment. But there are far more rough types in this particular inn than meek and mild types, making it a bit of a surprise when a small, young female Skeek walks in, looking timid as she climbs up onto one of the chairs to wait in a booth.

A young Vartan, barely more than a fledgling, shuffles about, the only 'waiter' to be seen, in this establishment that typically follows the proprietor's "You gots legs, you use 'em!" attitude toward service.

The entertainment of the day is in the form of a brown bat in dark attire who sits on the 'stage' – that is, a block slab jutting out from the fireplace – playing on a double-flute, accompanied by an enthusiastic brown-shelled Vykarin who plays drums with his stubby paws and thick tail.

A short time later, another stranger enters… Though this one's not really noticed, as he resembles 'just another working citizen' in both appearance and dress. Dull, sandy tan in color, most of his fur is covered by a dusty cloak and merchant's pouchbelt. His features are somewhat reminiscent of a Zerda but with smaller ears and a longer muzzle, as well as a darkfurred mask over his eyes. He's also significantly taller than any member of that race, and faint banding on his sand-colored fluffy tail would seem to hint at some Rath'ani blood in his heritage… which probably explains the height.

The Skeek has by now gone up to the bar, where she orders a distinctly mild drink, though not an especially cheap one: Rughrat milk with a dash of xocholatl. She passes up the five shekels it costs to the bartender.

Jakka takes the shekels, putting them away, and then returns to her endless task of polishing a well-worn glass to a dazzling luster.

The Skeek returns to the booth and sets her glass of brownish liquid on the table, taking occasional sips. Her gaze passes right over the Zerda-like merchant.

A rough-looking Jupani with a few scorch-marks on his fur slaps down thick leather gloves at the counter, and orders a mug of a viscous, vicious liquid that seems a step down from grog, though no cheaper. He nurses his drink, then looks up as he notices a familiar lupine sitting next to him. "Ey, Dorozo. Wild times in Rephidim, eh?" He speaks with a certain smug, wise-to-the-world accent to his expression and voice.

Selwyn, the newcomer, glances about disinterestedly as he makes his way over to the bar, ordering something not quite so mild, mateh "With something strong in it… ", he asks tiredly, muttering about airships always being late into port. He passes over coins from one of his pouches, then leans back agains the bar and sips his drink, eyes roving over the patrons. They finally come to rest on the Skreek, and he half-chokes on his drink as he does. He squints, then takes out a set of spectacles, dusts them off, and places them on his muzzle. "Is that… Aw, Dagh take it, her father'll kill her if he sees her here." He shrugs to the bartender, and pads over to the booth, settling down across from the Skreek.

The lupine in question, that is, must be familiar to the first wolf, though not necessarily to anyone else present. Just another dock-worker, probably. "Yeah. Really wild, Zeneros. What about it?" And they strike up a typical conversation about Rephidimite politics as filtered through to the populace.

The Skeek woman blinks at Selwyn innocently as she sips her chocolate milk. "Did m'daddy send you?" she says in a sweet little voice.

Selwyn sips his drink, then shakes his head and sets it down on the table with a clatter. "No. Lucky for you, he'll have your tail if he finds out. You have any good reasons for being here? Your old man helped me out, I just keep on paying him back."

"… heard that 'Arch-Inquisitor' is back on the scene … playing emissary to a bunch of rebels. It's all well-planned, you see. Nobody really hates him, he's politically neutral, expendible, and, if things get bad, deniable… " The murmurs of Zeneros and Dorozo buzz in the background.

The little Skeek looks at Selwyn curiously, leaning forward. "Was that when the Seventh Kadam took Sylvania?" she asks, with the air of someone asking about an old war story.

Selwyn half-listens to the background conversation and winces to himself. {If the Temple were a boat, it'd sink from this many leaks.}

Selwyn meets the Skeek's gaze, then flicks an ear annoyedly. "Course not. I thought he told you the stories. Was the Sixth, and it was Bosch."

Zeneros retorts, "… but everyone KNOWS that he's just a puppet of the Inner Circle. They control him by sending messages through his fillings… " Buzz buzz buzz.

Selwyn interrupts idle thoughts of ways to catch loose-tongued guards when he hears that bit of the conversation. He grins inwardly, nothing to worry about with those sort of theorists spreading rumors.

The Skeek winks. "I knew that! So I've got some news for you. Dad said to tell you."

The Skeek leans forward, motioning for Selwyn to lean over to hear.

Selwyn takes another sip of his drink, then nods. He brings his dusty tail around to polish his spectacles, which doesn't seem to help much. "News? Good. I've been away for a while, your old man's always got the best family gossip for me." He leans forward as well, perking his ears towards the Skeek.

Dorozo murmurs, "… What I want to know is why the Indomitable got dusted off and shuffled out from Rephidim. Hunting pirates in the Savan, ha! I say the Knights Templar are up to something … and as likely as not, WITHOUT the approval of the Bridge or the Illuminated Masterminds! … "

"Arch-Inquisitor Melchizedek's getting sent to the City of Hands," the Skeek whispers, confirming the rumors. "Zeffel says you aren't to worry about that, though. It's diplomatic now. Nothing new about the shiga, but everyone's sure now that he's already gone, they say in Darkside, he left way ahead of the rush. It's starting to be embarrassin' to keep the lid on Nagas leaving."

Selwyn hears Dorzo's allegations first, amusedly weighing possibles and total misses… then blinks! and meets the Skeeks's gaze as she speaks. "They're gonna trust Mel just like that? Course I'm worried." He leans closer and whispers. "The Shiga's gone where, off the island, or into Darkside? And is there any trail at all of him, any contacts? The Naga… How soon before it becomes public, do they think?"

The Skeek whispers, "Probably off the island. He's gone for clean. Zeffel thinks that we should trump up a terrorism case and claim it's solved. Now, about that apartment you wanted us to look up… "

Zeneros' voice briefly raises above the bar buzz to an audible level, "… mark my word, war over or not, they're just slipping their good cards under the table to save for another hand… "

Selwyn nods, and whispers. "Works. Snag one of the ones trying to wreck merchant stuff, it'll up public morale to make a spectacle of them. And it'll calm things down too." He listens about the apartment.

Selwyn is almost unable to keep from smiling at the irony of what Zeneros just said. {If only he knew that one of the under-the-table cards is atthe table right here… Ah well. Let the conspiracy theorists have their fun.}

The Skeek pauses to sip her xocholatl-laced milk, then whispers, "It was owned by a Ran Heskalin. Point guy for the bookies. He's dead now, been dead for quite a few months, but word was that he sold a lot of information too, under the table and to all sides. Apartment went vacant, landlord sold off the stuff in it and let it out to some dame. That Maza you're so interested in. She's a small time thief."

Selwyn coughs. "I know she is. Any clues on who tore it up, and why? And did this Heskalin have any ties I should know about? Who took over for him, who's his boss?"

The Skeek whispers, "Heskalin worked for S'Lezan. One of the underground 'crime lords'." She smirks, looking for a moment not like an innocent merchant's daughter, then continues, "No word on who tore it up, but my bet would be, S'Lezan knows something about it. And Sleazy probably would know something about Maza. She's licensed, has to be to 'work' in this town."

"… well, I think someone slipped some shekels under the table. They obliterate Himar, and then they kiss and make up, just like that. And the new ambassador went from 'Ra ra, we love the Sabaoth' to storming the palace in … what … a week, they say? Let's see how long before they fly the OTHER direction again. I say it's fitting they stuck the embassy next to Moz Ezley… " Zeneros snorts.

Dorozo shakes his head, muttering, "Never trust a b – " And then he shuts up momentarily, his eyes widening, as he notices a few distinctive Eeee ears about the room, including the entertainment. He quells his thought with a swig from his mug.

Selwyn nods, and whispers even more quietly. "Well, hopefully she'll lead me to him. Addresses where he might be would help, any files that could be dropped off… Let's just say that if things work out, I'd like to bring him in on a minor charge, let him go, and let it be known all over that he rolled over… big time… on his competitors and fellow criminals. Based on stuff we have on them, that they don't know we have." He hides a smirk. "At that point, he'll most likely be running for the Temple door, hm?"

"That'll be a hard sell," the Skeek whispers to Selwyn. "We don't have a lot of stuff we can use. You might have to dig something up. He hangs out at the Missing Shekel sometimes, since his old place got burned down. Maybe if you pose as a big-time thief type, you can get something."

Selwyn glances at the wolves as they stop on that word. {I fear for the Eee if this gets any worse. There's a lot of innocent ones around who stand to get hurt.}

The Skeek smirks and says softly, "Maybe Maza knows something you can use on Sleazy-An. Have you asked her?"

Selwyn mmms, and nods thoughtfully. "Missing Shekel. Shouldn't be a problem, no. I'll try. And… " He folds his ears as they blush slightly. "No, I haven't yet. A good idea… I will ask in due time." He pauses… "Anything new to report on the fake Faline, the dead Naga and the City?"

The Skeek shakes her head. "Isstan is still dead," she whispers drolly. "No news on Faline. Whomever she was, she's gone now. She could be in this very inn and we wouldn't know it, because we don't know what she really looks like. But there is one other thing. Our agent followed up the landlord's sale of Ran's stuff, in case there was anything useful there… "

Selwyn rolls his eyes for a moment, then rubs at his now-healed ear. "I've been gotten by supposedly-dead sorts, I never know now. Faline… " He shakes his head as well. "I'm more interested in who hired and created her, she was simply a means. Whoever's behind it is the enemy we need to eliminate. Hopefully this Sleazy will lead to something." He nods, and perks his ears again to listen. "Useful?"

The Skeek whispers, "She sold the lot, including a valuable Sylvanian wedding dress – she says that was rather unusual, maybe it was something he'd gotten as collateral, or something he stole – to Achimed's. And a few months ago, someone burned down the antique store, and the rat reported the whole store as destroyed, and collected on the insurance. Maybe he knows something about it." She shrugs, but gives the Zerda-like merchant the address.

Dorozo murmurs, "… and that Lord of the Vermites fellow … up to no good, I tell you. I tell you, this menace is up to something … and something BIG!"

Selwyn tilts his head. "A wedding dress. Interesting. Yes… I'll ask that rat, antique buyers do tend to want a history of what they purchase… Perhaps a simple audit from his insurance company is in order." He makes note of the address with a small quill and notebook. "He wants twenty shekels a dozen for them? Fifteen… He should know better.", he speaks out loud, in between writing.

The Skeek shrugs. "That's what they told me," she whispers. "Anyway, that's all I have for you this week. Any questions you want me to take back?"

The little mouse woman energetically shlurps! her xocholatl milk.

Zeneros slurs, "… well that snakey … Lord Bassai Stuffyscale … is likely to lose his head when he gets back to the Empire, I hear. He's the one who had this grand plan about freeing the Savanites? And look what they do … raid ships, declare their own state, and send out invitations to every self-appointed 'king' who issues wooden shekels on the globe… "

Dorozo interjects, "Well, at least he got the price down on the spotties. The li'l missus has been whining for some help around the house for years. So I finally bought her some. I just hope the little spotty dear doesn't go riot on me… or the little missus gets a new coat, that's what!"

Selwyn nods, and whispers again. "Well… if the guards happen to see a black Keiltyn named Noir around the Missing Shekel, I'd appreciate it greatly if they not arrest him or rough him up… And if possible, if they could place that name on some dispatches warning of his suspected arrival over the next few days?"

The Skeek nods. "Will do." She stands up and says in a louder, more saccharine voice, "Bye! Nice talking to you!" and heads for the door.

Selwyn quietly finishes his own mateh 'with something in it'. He looks up at Dorzo's last statement, hoping that wasn't a serious threat… then just shakes his head sadly. {Bassai of the Naga Empire, you have… no idea what you've done to our society, do you… Change overnight is chaos… } He looks up as the Skeek stands, then gives her a mock growl as he sets his mug on the table. "You stay out of here, now, do your lessons… or I will tell your father, I swear." He waves to her, and his expression soften slightly. "You take care of yourself now. Say hi to your old man for me, I've got work to do."