Despite the shadows of the 'Bridge Officer' who has yet to summon Kani, the Investigator's work has turned out to be fairly routine, some days spent reinforcing his various personae – it helps to be 'known' in certain parts of the city – and some days spent catching up on paperwork and the latest briefings for all agents. Now Inquisitor Zeffel has called the white fox to his office for another mission assignment.

A nearby Savanite in plain Temple robes pulls the hatch aside for the Investigator to step into the office.

Kani, in his formal robes, brushed neatly as always, steps quietly into the office. He glances around, then pushes his robe's hood back before bowing politely to Zeffel. "Sir."

The Savanite bows and waits politely inside the hatch.

Inquisitor Zeffel, a Gallee (a purebred saluki in particular), looks up from his chair and gestures for the white fox to take a seat. "Well, well, Investigator Kani. It appears we've turned up a possible lead in the smuggling case you were investigating some weeks ago. You do recall the incident, do you not?"

Kani, once acknowledged, moves forward and settles into the chair. "Of course, sir." His ears perk in curiosity. "And… a lead? Through the shipping boxes used, or… "

"Exactly so," Inquisitor Zeffel says. He shuffles the stack of papers on his desk and takes out a folder, then hands this to Kani. It contains the handwritten reports of various agents, and lists the results of some fairly in-depth background checking and records searches and customs official questioning. "As the case turns out, the boxes used were in fact, purchased from several different merchants to be 'scrapped' for firewood, very cheaply. They couldn't be legally reused after all, so the merchants were happy enough to let someone else dispose of them… "

Kani glances over the documents, his tail waving slowly back and forth low behind his seat as he reads. "Interesting. So the merchants weren't at fault, but… " He looks up at the Saluki. "This 'someone' who purchased the boxes… the same someone, or someone traceable, then?"

Inquisitor Zeffel arches an eyebrow. "They claim they were not at fault, Investigator – but people have lied to the Temple before. They may well have known that they were aiding and abetting a smuggling ring."

Kani nods softly. "Of course, sir. Though it'd be hard to imagine a successful merchant risking the Temple's wrath and losing all they have over the matter of a few boxes, I have seen merchants… fail to ask appropriate questions when attempting to save shekels. They may have known, yes."

The saluki leans forward, long-haired ears draped over the collar of his robes. "In any case, numerous different aliases were in fact used on the part of these lumber sellers – but we've obtained written descriptions of the agent who did the buying, and it appears only a small group of people are behind these twenty-some names. This has allowed us to narrow the field down to several firewood sellers' shops. Which have of course, denied any responsibility or knowledge of boxes marked by Port Customs being bought for firewood and then, ah… Never making it to their final intended use."

"This is where you come in. We believe Gran's Lumber and Products is the biggest and thus most likely candidate for a 'front' for a smuggling ring. Easier to hide evidence that way, eh? In addition, our agents watching them reported several people about their premises who match the descriptions, which you'll find in the folder." Zeffel looks at Kani, waiting for the Investigator's comment.

Kani can't help smiling slightly. "Only a few individuals, behind twenty or so names. Foolish of them." He glances at the folder again at Zeffel's words, then up. "A lumber yard? Sounds like a likely candidate to me… Would you think that the company itself is involved, or rather, that this is an operation run secretly by a few within?"

Inquisitor Zeffel smiles darkly. "I'd like to haul the lot of them off for questioning, but laws are laws. As long as we haven't any hard evidence against them, nor a case important enough to allow for waiving of the relevant laws, we can't get a warrant for search and seizure. So this is where you'll come in, Investigator Kani."

Kani nods. "I only hope that it's not the company itself, things might be a bit more complicated if the upper echelons are in on the ring. Securitywise, that is… the more intelligent merchant or merchants who run the company might not make as many mistakes if it's their operation." He smiles a bit again. "Then again, it could be just as blatantly non-secure as the port operation. I'll have to see, I suppose?"

"Exactly. Your directive is to find us that hard evidence we need, Investigator. We don't want the underlings this time. We want to go all the way to the top – to the people who're really behind this smuggling ring." Inquisitor Zeffel taps his claws against the desktop. "I'm not going to recommend an approach for you this time. Make up a plan, submit it for my approval, and I'll see to it you have what's needed. Just remember, if they're really legitimate and they complain about the use of excess force in a Temple investigation, it could look bad for us."

Kani's ears perk more. "To the top, this time. Of course, sir." He nods at the orders. "If any agents have managed to obtain notes of jobs wanted at that company, or of the personality-types of the management personnel, it would be helpful in my planning. I'd want to choose a persona least likely to conflict with any supervisors, one likely to be trusted… That, I think, would be a good bet for preventing any use of force. If there isn't enough background, I might have to make a quick survey observation of the grounds, just to listen. But either way, I shall submit a plan by this time tomorrow." He tilts his head. "Is that acceptable, sir?"

"Of course. Get to work, Investigator. I'm counting on you to get me results." Inquisitor Zeffel nods formally to Kani and sits back in his creaking chair, taking another folder for review. "Dismissed."

Kani rises, and bows once again. "Yes, sir. You'll have results, that I can guarantee. Good day, sir." He nods at the dismissal, turns, nods to the Savanite to open the door, then raises his robe's cowl to cover all but his white muzzle as he silently pads out of the office.

The folder describes the company briefly: not really that large a concern, Gran's Lumber boasts a staff of perhaps twenty people, mostly laborers responsible for hauling wood in or out, some craftsmen to repair the carts used in the work, and of course, a proprietor, Gran himself, a Lapi. The agents' descriptions further catalogue the actual crate buyers as respectively, a tall male Jupani with an 'unkempt' way about him, possibly a Titanian, a shorter Khatta, all black, also a male, and a female golden vixen.

The lumber shop appears to be gearing up for additional business for the colder winter months coming; since cutting of the forests on the island of Rephidim itself are restricted to small, slim tracts assigned by the Temple every day, to allow for new growth to replace old trees cut down, most of the wood is brought by airship from the surface, and then cut to needed lengths in the yard itself.

Beyond that… If it weren't for the fact that people matching all three lumber-purchasing agents had been seen about the yard, it would seem a completely ligit business.

Of course, the black-cloaked Keiltyn watching and listening from the perimeter that evening knows better. He listens carefully to the voices and accents, watches the mannerisms of the proprietor and the workers… and notes the presence of the three. And later that night, wide awake when most all the Temple is asleep, Kani settles in his office, the light of his desk lantern spilling across books of facts, culture and species, a parchment, and a white paw holding an inked quill. And carefully, he plans and writes a persona to fit into the lumber yard's unique little world.

The yard's front gate opens to admit a seriously-overdressed Keiltyn, his fur a light orange with chocolate-brown 'socks' and ears. Overdressed would be putting it mildly. This fox is wearing a tunic and breeches of the finest multicolored silk, a swirling long cloak of similar material, and a belt and sash woven of interlinked bits of leather, chitin, and precious metal in intricate patterns. Between his ears is a light web of thin coppery strands interwoven with tiny glass gems that continues down the back of his head and ends in a 'v' point just above his eyes, and he even has ornamented spat-like sandals on his digitigrade hindpaws. Obviously, either wealthy or connected to wealth. He pauses, glances around disdainfully, then heads for Gran's office.

Catching sight of an expensive-looking visitor, a gray Lapi with brown accents just over his hands and behind his ears and long legs walks over to greet the Keiltyn. He bows, ears flopping down over his face, then flips them up. "At your service, oh wonderous customer! And how may Gran's serve you today?"

Out in the yard the sounds of business continue unabated, as a mildly distracting background to the dealings in the office. "Get moving with that wagon! Put your back into it! You can be replaced by Savanites you know, they're going cheap."

Several workers nod to their supervisor, as they sort through the latest load of recycled wood. Most of the pieces are too old and worn for anything but the fire or charcoal pile. The few pieces of sizable hardwood that are in this shipment get sorted to the side. The Jupani supervisor is approving the final inspections, and letting everyone know when he disapproves – rather loudly in fact.

Rilikin sniffs. "My name… " He pauses. "Is Rilikin Miroet. I am an artist, decorator for Sevram. Noble Sevram desires that his new country manor be finished in the manner of the early settlers, so that he may for himself experience their hardship. Therefore, he has asked that his bedchamber, bath chamber, servant's quarters, and dining hall have their fixtures constructed of simple, aged wood of the correct appearance. I am here to obtain such wood."

Gran blinks at the speech and opens and closes his mouth several times, then conscientiously tugs his sawdust-flecked shirt back down to cover his gray-furred belly. "Of course! You can be sure your master Sevram can find whatever he wishes here if it's wood. We have new wood from the Himar! Old wood from, ah, mansions filled with history, care worn into every grain! We have sugarfir wood from Aelfhem even! Whatever you want, Master Rilikin, I'm sure we can provide you with it here." The Lapi gestures for the fox to follow him.

Rilikin backs up a few paces as sawdust brushes from Gran's shirt. He quickly checks his own attire. "New wood will not do. I must have old wood, wood with character, aged. I must see for myself to judge." He nods, and follows the Lapi out into the yard.

Gran nods quickly. "I'm sure we can find something to your tastes, Master Rilikin." He leads the orange-brownish Keiltyn past several stacks of some weathered, dark brown wood with whorls shading to black, while reciting to himself as if consulting a mental map.

The yard crew is composed of mostly strongbacks, and a few specialists. The muscle is the usual kind, Rhians, Vartans, some big Gallahs, plus a Titanian and a Tiger Kattha. The others are the Jupani, a couple carpenter Kavis, and a Skreek.

Rilikin pauses by the weathered wood, runs his paws along it, then dusts them off. He makes a show of inspecting the boards, lifting a few to look along both sides, at the grain and markings. "I will look for wood that feels and looks right, that fits my vision of artistry for Sevram's new home. And if I find it, I will buy what you have of it. Price is not of concern."

"How about these then?" Gran leads Rilikin over to another stack of wood of a dark ruddy color, so smooth as to seem slick. "Or perhaps you would like something lighter in color, Master Rilikin?"

A brief observation is all that is required to understand the workings of the yard. For the most part, the Vartans stay inside the warehouse, where their flying ability lets them lift the wood to various storage levels. The Rhians are under the Jupani's direction, and using their typical horse-sense, don't make any more effort than the effort requested. This attitude likely contributes to the frazzled state of the wolf's pelt. The Kavis seem to be all over the place, and it takes a while to realize that there are only three, and not seven of them. Finally, The Tiger seems to roam the compound on strange 'missions' with the Titanian in his wake.

Rilikin starts to wander in another direction, following his artistic vision, it seems. "No. It must be perfect." He heads towards the larger of the 'recycled' boards. "Aged, with character. It must convey hardship, a life of work, with the essence of an aged tree still within its grain."

The Gallahs, of course, are wherever anyone needs them to be.

Gran says knowingly, "Ahhhh. Of course. Your master must feel a close kinship to the working man." He rubs his chin and looks around the yard, trying to think of a kind of wood that could clearly symbolize such a thing.

A tan Rhian picks up the board that Rilikin seems interested in, and immediately stomps it. His hoof splinters the wood into two halves, which he shoves in the kiln.

The Lapi ventures off another direction, behind several tall stacks of sand-colored wood. "Master Rilikin! Where did you go?" he calls, evidently having expected the fox to follow him.

Rilikin stops short of the Rhian. "Ruffian, you are destroying fine art! I might wish to purchase those!" He picks up another of the boards, looking along its sides.

Gran's ears go 'poit' from behind the boards. He hurries out from behind them quickly, looking about for the fancy fop fox.

The Rhian stares down at the Keiltyn with a blank, shocked expression, or perhaps just his usual blank one. "Scrap," is all he says, letting the artiste keep the piece of board, and taking the one directly behind it.

Rilikin examines the board carefully.

The board appears to have come from a crate… But the only identifying mark on it is the partially-destroyed name, "MATEH RO – "

Gran huffs up onto the scene. "My apologies, Master Rilikin," he says. Then says, aghast, "Is THAT the sort of wood you want?"

Rilikin quickly picks up another of the boards, looking over it as well. And then looks up to fix Gran with a stare. "Are you insulting my vision, my artistry? Shall I show you my awards and commendations, the many noble households that carry my vision?" He holds up the piece. "This wood shows a lifetime of work, of labor, and yet holds the noble essence, aged, of a weary tree. It is not scrap, it is classic!" He stops. "And your ruffian is destroying it!"

A palomino Rhian takes the place of the tan one, but otherwise they are barely distinguishable. Large muscled arms, strong legs, barrel chest, with a blank expression on the face which could be kindly called deep reflection, but is more often interpreted as 'wind without sails'. The palomino horse grabs another board as the tan one wanders off with his piece of firewood.

Gran tries to envision a noble's house made up with walls of… crate wood. He boggles.

"But sir – " The Lapi looks at the decorator fox carefully. "Of course, sir, you realize such wood is not easy to get. Especially of the quality that just shouts, 'Hard work'. Is that the sort you want?"

"Scrap." The Palomino Rhian announces, destroying the piece of wood as if to demonstrate Rilikin's claims. One sharp blow from his hoof is all that is required, and that piece of crate is added to the charcoal kiln.

Rilikin looks after the tan Rhian, then back again to Gran. "I will pay well for all that you can get. Who is obtaining this wood, and from whereabouts?"

"GNNN!" A throat wrenching growl comes from somewhere behind the Rhian, followed by a scraggly Jupani who grabs the palomo horse's thick arm. "Pfett, Gran is with a customer! Work someplace else."

Rilikin looks after the tan departing Rhian again. "Where is he taking that piece? I can just see it as the master's bedside table, a copper bowl of pala-fruit upon it, a candle and leaves… Where is he taking it?"

Gran recovers his composure. "Save that wood," he bids the palomino Rhian. "You! Have all that wood saved over there. That clear spot over there. It is 'aged' wood," he says loftily. "It evidences one's closeness to working life, one's kinship with the salt of the world, one's… " he looks at Rilikin for more words to describe it.

Rilikin says, "One's respect for history, and for the hardship of the early pioneers, as well as a post-deconstructive motif of nature as used by civilization. It's the latest thing in design circles, though I hadn't expected you to know. But at least you seem to understand." He looks satisfied. "Still, where did that… worker vanish to with that piece? It was 'right', I would like that one… And I need to now examine these for those that are right, that fit." He dons a pair of gloves, then sets about inspecting the 'scrap' boards closely. "

Pfett seems very intent on putting his board into the kiln, but with some convincing, releases it to the pile the Keiltyn is inspecting.

Gran scurries about, trying to make the Rhians save the wood. "It's deconstructive! Save it! Pile that all right here." A few minutes later sees the accumulation of a small pile of crate-wood, already broken into individual strips.

Rilikin keeps looking closely at each piece of wood. "And whereabouts was this wood acquired? I might have need of more if my vision goes well. And I would pay well those who acquired it."

Pfett helpfully points in the direction of the Rephidim shipyards.

Gran says loftily, "Ah! Anyone could get you scrap wood," he says, waving a hand at some nearby Rhians to be quiet. "But only my agents, clever and hard-working as they are, could fetch you wood of this quality, strong and sturdy, yet easy with which to work, Master Rilikin. We select only the finest crate-wood from merchants of good reputation and standing."

Two Gallahs that seem to have a large slice of bulldog in their makeup carry several darkwood planks over to a place near the gate.

Rilikin nods, finishing his inspection of the boards. "Very well. Save these. Where might these agents be, that I might obtain more? I would like to speak to them."

Rilikin glances over at the Gallah near the gate. "Would those be them? That would seem to be of this same type of wood?"

"Er – you see… " Gran looks nervous at Rilikin's latest suggestion. "They're very shy people, really. It just wouldn't do to approach them directly. That's not how things are done around here, eh heh. That's why Gran's Lumber is here, to bring you the fruit of their labor so that we can cut away all the dross and messy, splintery ends and nasty bumps and supply you only the finest in wood." Looking at the Gallahs, he adds, "Workers, of course."

The Gallahs continue to make several trips, stacking the dark coloured wood. Simple observation shows it to be a much higher quality than the used planks, though an artiste might be forgiven in this distinction. The largest tell-tale sign, is that the wood by the gate has not been used.

Rilikin ahhs. "But you misunderstand. The dross and splinters and bumps are what give the wood life, every contour part of an image that you must feel, not just see… you must feel the tree's life, feel the paws of workers of the past, for it to be a true work of art. Wood stripped of this is nothing, nothing at all." He stares at Gran. "I would like to talk to these agents, so that they may acquire the correct sort of wood. And I must have the piece that the tan one carried off. That will be my master's bedside table, nothing else will do." He starts to wander in the direction the tan Rhian went, asking one of the other Rhians, "Where has he gone?"

Gran eyes the wood being stacked up inside the gate. It looks as if it would be perfect for a noble's house… Though it doesn't match up at all with what the artiste is describing. He calls to the Jupani, "My good man, do go fetch Samson, would you? Find out if he's still carrying that bit of wood around, and have him bring it back, if you would."

The Lapi leans over to whisper to the Jupani, "If he hasn't got it, tell him to find any old crate and break a plank in half. I don't think this Master Rilikin can tell the difference. It's all just firewood." He minutely shudders.

A black and white Rhian shrugs in response, and also wanders off. The Jupani follows a second later, calling after the horse, then pausing to listen to Gran, "This isn't a break… oh! Right Boss, sure." With a grimace and another clutch at his pelt, he goes searching also.

Rilikin flicks an ear at the Lapi as he speaks.

The Lapi turns back to the fancily-dressed fox. "Well, as you can see, we're already making a good start on the type of wood you want. I'll see if we can find you that bit you wanted, and if you'll let me know how much you want, I can arrange to have it delivered anywhere in Rephidim you like." He takes out a parchment. "So then… Does twenty shekels the square foot seem like a fair amount to you, Master Rilikin?"

Rilikin makes a dismissive gesture. "Whatever. Price is of no concern. Yet you still do not understand, wood is not wood. Each piece must have a personality, I must inspect it myself, choose those pieces that are right."

"Okay, here they are!" The Jupani returns with Samson, the other black and white Rhian, and two different Gallahs, all of them bearing armloads of scrap wood. Some which were even originally crates.

"Of course, of course," Gran says placatingly. "But you understand, when I tell my agents that we need a great deal more… 'Deconstructive' wood for you, I'll need to know just how much you need for your work, don't you think, Master Rilikin? And a little over, in case any of it shouldn't meet your exacting specifications."

Rilikin nods. "Of course." He distractedly looks through the scrap wood. "The bedside table is not here." He looks up at Samson. "Where is it that you were taking the wood?"

A Vartan from inside the warehouse has come outside, and leans against it. Beside her is the Tiger Kattha, and the two of them seem to be sharing a private joke which gives them a lot of mirth. By their gestures, it could be guessed that their laughter has something to do with Rilikin's "Wood isn't Wood" statement.

Gran shakes his head. "To think that Samson was about to throw away such a treasure! Of course your discerning eye picked it out right away, Master Rilikin."

Samson holds out the 'treasure'. It is the same piece he left with, a rough grained, badly planed, yellow softwood, that bears the stamps of a shipping crate.

Rilikin sniffs. "Of course. Your workers don't strike me as particularly adept in the areas of aesthetics." He accepts the wood from Samson and inspects it. "This… is my master's bedside table. Wonderful." His ear flicks. "Though I'm not familiar with these stamps. What do they mean?" He directs the question at Samson, who handed him the piece.

Samson shrugs, indicating out the piece. He is a Rhian of few words, like they all are.

Gran says, "Ah! It is a mark to authenticate this wood's venerable ancestry and use in the daily mercantile life that is the very lifeblood of Rephidim, Master Rilikin. You have sharp eyes to see that! See? Temple-approved wood. I sell only the best here." He smiles widely.

Rilikin mms. He turns to Gran. "Never mind, then. However, I insist on speaking to at least a representative of your agents, so that they may be instructed what to look for, in wood. Otherwise an expenditure of tens of thousands of shekels is not worth my time, I shall go myself to merchants."

The Lapi's ears go up straight. That's a lot of scrap wood he can sell. "Of course, Master Rilikin. I'll go see if I can find one immediately! If you would be so kind as to wait by the gate?"

Rilikin nods. "Of course. I shall." He turns, and pads in a dignified fashion over to the gate to wait.

The Lapi goes around the crates and starts conversing with some workers in low whispers.

Rilikin swivels his ears towards where Gran went off to as he waits.

As Rilikin waits, a jasmine-smelling form slips up behind him and exclaims, "Ooh! Are you a customer at Gran's? I bet you must be buying wood for something really expensive!"

Rilikin, not having heard anything… jumps! forward, upsetting his finery a bit and letting out a short yelp of surprise, then at the same time spins around and tries to smooth out his attire. He catches his breath… and then his eyes widen as he sees who or what surprised him.

A pretty golden fox, not digitigrade like the Keiltyn, dressed in a loose long-sleeved gypsy-style blouse and black skirt, grins mischievously at Rilikin. She extends a hand around which dangle several Vykarin-style bead bracelets to pat Rilikin's arm reassuringly. "I'm not that scary, am I? My name's Maza, what's yours?"

A minute ago saw "Rilikin Miroet", a pretentious sort of interior decorator, startled just as he was questing for Gran's agents who brought in the 'perfect' wood for his master's furniture and walls… Wood that expresses 'One's respect for history, and for the hardship of the early pioneers, as well as a post-deconstructive motif of nature as used by civilization.' In short, crate wood, fit for nothing but turning into charcoal as far as Gran is concerned – but the Lapi isn't going to let on in front of a gullible noble. Everyone remembers how far the glass Creen on hat fad went.

The person who startled him, a pretty golden vixen named Maza and dressed in a gypsyish fashion, blinks her long eyelashes at him, waiting for his name.

Rilikin, having recovered his confidence and calm, smiles warmly… though his expression seems to hold more than just idle polite interest. "My name is Rilikin Miroet, artist of interior design to the noble Sevram." He bows politely, taking Maza's paw in his and softly touching his nose to its back before standing again. "And no, my lady Maza, you are not in the least scary. Far from it indeed." He smiles again. "What business might you have in such a place as this?"

Maza blushes at Rilikin's manners, her ears pinking and dipping back a little. "Oh! Well, I work here, milord," she says, her clear amber eyes looking up and down the expensively dressed fox. "I find wood for Gran's business. My! You must be very well – regarded by your master."

A moment later finds the Lapi, Gran, coming out with a pleasant smile pasted on his face and a surly-looking Jupani behind him. "Ah! Milord Rilikin, I seem to have found one of my agents, Stavros, who can surely tell you a little about his difficult and exacting work… " His voice trails off as he sees with whom Miroet is speaking.

Rilikin tilts his head slightly. "Indeed? You work here? I would think one such as yourself would be more suited to displaying the latest creations of a designer of fine clothing, but… " He pauses. "You find wood, you say? Then you are one of these 'agents' of which the proprietor spoke? Marvelous… You see, I am an artist, held in high regard of course, yes. I have been looking for wood with a certain character for a great work, I have found some here, but I require more. I would pay well if you could… " He stops for a moment and turns to the approaching Gran. "Ah, quite alright, thank you. If this is an agent, this one will suffice, yes?" He looks back at Maza again, smiling pleasantly. "I'm sure she can lead me to more of that perfect wood?"

Stavros mumbles a few things, and looks at Gran, then back at Maza and Rilikin.

Maza lifts her ears forward, clearly interested by Rilikin's promises. "Oh yes, I'm sure I can help you, milord. You don't mind, do you, Gran?" She glances over at the Lapi and the rather unkempt Jupani while holding a hand out for Rilikin to lead her off.

Gran stutters. "B-b-but… Ah, Maza, my dear, just a little word with you before you go?" He tries to smile, coming off only a little artificially.

Rilikin bows politely once more and takes Maza's paw in his, making a dismissive gesture to Gran. "Nonsense, I'm sure you have much work to get back to, and I've wasted enough time here already. She's exactly what I need to find more of that wood. Oh, and please hold and separate what I've selected, I shall send servants back to fetch it."

Gran wrings his hands nervously. "Oh dear, oh dear. Do help our good Rilikin, will you, Maza? It's very expensive, finding just the right sort of wood, you know. Not just anyone has it." He attempts to wink surreptitiously, a motion which gives the golden vixen cause to laugh softly.

Maza smiles. "I'm sure I'll be just fine, Gran. Rilikin here is a perfect gentleman, isn't he?" She follows the Keiltyn.

Stavros pulls at his fur a few times, then turns to Gran. "I suppose I should get back to directing the Rhians, right boss?"

Gran's mouth hangs open as he seems paralyzed, watching Maza walk off with the decorator who might have helped him earn a fortune. He snaps it shut and then nods to Stavros curtly.

Stavros nods to the Lapi, and pads off in the direction of the warehouse. He scowls and waves at some of the horses to follow him.

Rilikin pauses to pick up a piece of his 'perfect' wood to take with him, idly flipping a coin back to Gran in doing so. "Mind that your workers don't destroy my wood, now." He smiles and pads off with Maza. "A gentleman and an artist, quite. I suppose you're not up on the latest design circles, you've not heard of my work about the Noble's Quarter?"

Gran says, "Of course, milord! Whatever wood you're looking for, remember, you can always get it at Gran's." He pulls a smile, then lets it slip into nervousness as he looks at the coin and then pockets it.

Rilikin holds up the wood to Maza. "This wood… is beyond its form. It symbolizes struggle, work, nature as used by society and civilization, the echo of a tree and the mark of many paws. I need more, much more. I do not care from where… might you be able to show me where you might obtain wood such as this, every source? I shall pay well… and if you can show me where it might be obtained, once I speak with those who supply it, I might well be willing to hire you as an agent of acquisition. You seem to have a talent for it, and it would be better than working… " He makes an expression of disdain. "In a lumber yard?"

"I'm sure I've heard your name now and then," Maza says chattily as she trots after Rilikin, her tail swishing brightly. "I haven't always worked for a lumber yard, really. milord. I made some money on the way from Ashdod, about half a year ago, and I invested it in some trading concerns. Well… " She lowers her eyelashes as Rilikin leads her to a wide dirt circle where several carriages and open drokkar-pulled cabs wait for fares. "What with the war with Babel and ships going boom, I'm afraid I lost it all, milord… " She lifts her chin again and flashes the fox a pretty smile. "But a girl does what she can to get by, right?"

A few other people are on the streets, workers, passing the two foxes as they go about their business. A black Kattha and a yellow Gallee are the only ones of note, having a loud political conversation. The rest of the pedestrians are individual Jupani, Khatta, Skreek, and Rhian.

Rilikin winces. "To live without money, unthinkable… I shall have to speak to my master's financial advisor, perhaps there is something that can be recovered?" His ears splay a bit at the smile. "Tell me, have you eaten midday meal yet? There is a wonderful cafe in the Nobles' Quarter, it would be far better to talk of business at a proper table. Then you might show me where and when you've acquired such artistically pleasing wood?" He makes a gesture to a carriage-driver with one darkfurred paw. "Nobles' Quarter, the Mist Garden cafe. Help the lady up."

Maza's thin black lips form into a delicate O of pleasure. "Would you do that, milord? That would be so wonderful! I haven't eaten there in so long… " She steps up into the carriage, letting the driver help her up the step, and flounces happily into the seat facing front.

Her tail bats against Rilikin's leg as she passes. For a lumber-yard agent, she looks remarkably free of wood shavings. Then again, perhaps she was just about to begin her day's shift.

Rilikin climbs up himself into the carriage. "I shan't think of what it'd be like to lose one's fortune. I can only imagine." His ears perk as Maza's tail pats, his own tailtip swinging a bit about to lightly brush past hers as he settles into his seat. He looks into her eyes and smiles warmly yet again, his ears blushing slightly… he seems to be picking up her jasmine-scent more as well. And inhaling softly as he does. "But a lumber-yard is not the place for you, no. I shall see what I can do. In the meantime… if you've not had a fine meal in so long, then it's… too long." He turns a bit. "Driver, you may proceed. Avoid the Bazaar area, I do not wish to offend the lady's nose with that offal."

Maza smiles warmly at the decorator, flicking her tail over onto her lap and stroking its fluff down. "Oh, it's been no picnic, milord – may I call you Rilikin?" The Kavi driver says, "Noble Quarter it is, sahr," and flicks the whip.

The carriage pulls away from the 'curb', the thin-necked drokkars hissing and snapping at the air. Several pedestrians scatter from the path, clutching their bundles close, and then the carriage passes beneath an ornate wooden gate carved into the forms of spiralling dragons weaving around each other to lift their snarling heads to the skies. Amidst the distant sounds of the Bazaar and the whining noise of a saw at Gran's lumber, a gravely voice calls, "Taxi!" and then the carriage disappears into the walls of Rephidim proper.

Rilikin quietly produces an ornamented brush from an equally ornamented pouch on his belt and offers it to Maza. "I can only imagine… ", he says softly. "And of course you may call me that." He sniffs at the air, at the vixen's flowery jasmine scent again. "So you… lost everything due to the war, then? Nothing aside anywhere? You do deserve more, not to be thrown in with this common lot about us." He glances at the street passing by, then sideways at Maza again… just looking over her face and eyes and golden fur for a moment, trying not to stare.

The windows of the carriage look out onto the buildings passing by like blurs, the high-spirited lizards pulling the vehicle faster than Dromodons would have. Maza takes Rilikin's hand and holds onto it, looking out at the scenery quite happily and then up at him with her pretty eyes. "Thank you… Rilikin. You're such an insightful Keiltyn… " A signpost flickers by: the southern compass point of Main Street, which winds around the center of Rephidim in a circle.

The carriage rattles down the cobblestones of Main Street, to the western point, and then off toward Noble Quarter, but not terribly far, before turning into a side street. It clatters to a stop before a lovely gardened cafe, its gate of polished dark wood wound about with ivy.

Rilikin's ears splay a bit again at Maza's paw in his. He gives her yet one more warm, friendly smile, his eyes sparkling, then leans down to touch his nose softly to the back of her paw again before looking back into her eyes. "Thank you for the compliment, my lady. From one such as yourself, it is meaningful indeed." He perks his ears as the carriage stops. "We seem to have arrived… And you are familiar with this establishment, you say? Excellent cuisine." He stands, then alights from the carriage and lifts a paw to help Maza down.

"Oh, I've never been to this place itself, but I've always enjoyed eating in Noble Quarter," Maza says with a smile as she squeezes Rilikin's hand and steps down from the carriage. "Everyone is always so wonderfully dressed and mannered – not like people in Babel! They always looked down on you just because you couldn't fly."

Low stone walls frame the cafe's eating area, just high enough to keep it private, low enough that those patronizing the expensive eatery can see others and be seen. Time has eroded the carved pattern of lilies at the bottom of the stones. At this hour of the day, most of the tables are filled with patrons having a delightful lunch.

Rilikin says, "Of course… as it should be." He tsks. "You've been to Babel, then? Horrible place, yes. I'm at a loss to understand why it's considered, in that culture, a benefit to have oversized featherdusters permanently affixed to one's back." He smiles. "To each their own, I suppose. Ah… and this is, I consider, the best of current cuisine in the Quarter. Always so nicely arranged… the artistry's so important, of course." "

A large Naga slithers towards the two foxes, he is black, with the occasional white scale, making him resemble a starry sky. The slim cut robe that he wears adds to his formal appearance. Bowing slightly, he hisses. "Greetings. Welcome to the Misst Garden cafe. I am Bazl, the Maitr'd. May I see your reservations?"

Maza hides a giggle behind one hand delicately, standing a little behind Rilikin as the Maitre'd speaks.

The Naga fixes Rilikin with his unblinking slit-pupil stare. After a moment he flicks out his tongue, waiting patiently.

Rilikin quietly slips the Maitr'd a coin… or several, it's hard to tell. "Would that be the reservations you're referring to, good sir?" He smiles back at Maza.

"Of course Sir. Pleasse accompany me to your seats." Bazl bows, leading the way into the Mist Garden Cafe as a black-suited Savanite holds the door for him and the two foxes. The Maitre'd leads Rilikin and Maza to a table near the centre of the room, situated beside a small decorative waterfall.

The golden vixen ooohs and ahhhs appropriately behind Rilikin, looking around the place. To hear her, one would think that she had never been in such a fine restaurant before.

Bazl stands impressively beside the table, then bows as the foxes get seated. "Someone will be along to assisst you in a moment." He slithers back to his position at the door.

Rilikin, on the other paw, remains cool as he pads to the table… as if this is an everyday outing for him. He politely pulls out Maza's chair for her before taking his own seat, tucking his tail around its back with a quiet flourish. "The decor's quite nice, don't you think? Not too garish, rather understated elegance… and an image of nature enclosed. I rather like it, even if the designer borrowed a bit from my work." He smiles across the table at Maza, then nods to Bazl.

The cab outside clatters off, the sounds of lizard feet on cobblestones jounced about the cafe and the waterfall. Other diners chat lowly between each others, some talking about the latest courtly affairs, others bemoaning their businesses – the rich merchants follow a code of never praising their own successes before an audience, lest an enterprising auditor decide to ask why their taxes haven't been likewise high.

The waterfall gurgles into the small pool beside the table, bringing with it a fresh, open scent that contrasts with Maza's. Lilies float on the surface of the water, and strangely frilled fish dart around beneath them. The source of the stream is hidden somewhere above the five ledges the water splashes over.

Maza swishes into her chair, tail batting Rilikin's, and sits with marvelous elegance, her smile bright. "They must have given us the very prettiest place to sit here, Rilikin!" Her black fingers trace the table, momentarily puzzled as they find no menu.

The Server appears at Rilikin's elbow, the sound of her approach masked by the gurgling of the stream. "Good morning Sir, Madam."

Rilikin smiles, his tail softly brushing back against Maza's, as it bats, then resting against it. "Of course it's the prettiest place. Where else would be appropriate for you, my lady?" He stares back into her eyes for a moment, distracted, then jumps slightly as the server appears… managing to only silently bump his leg on the table underside, wince, and end up with his hindpaw brushing against Maza's under the table. "Good morning, yes… What might you be offering today?"

Two menus are held to the Server's chest, much like her, they are black with stark white markings. The menus are paper, but the Server is a Gallee with more attractive details. Her pelt is long and carefully brushed, a black ruff on her throat forming a V over her white front. She has a fine muzzle, thin, and white on its underside, to go with her white hands. Her clothes are a subtle study in black, simple and discrete, but still a dress that compliments her patterns. Her border collie markings make her a stunning sight as she places the menus before Rilikin and Maza. "I recommend the Chef's salad to start sir."

Maza starts as Rilikin's foot comes to rest against hers, then glancing at the flattering dress the waitress wears, lifts her chin a little, and brushes her ankle alongside the Keiltyn's. Unlike the Keiltyn, she is a plantigrade fox, but still quite similar seeming to the prettier vixens that Rilikin has seen in the past. "That sounds delightful," she says to Rilikin, smiling. "Don't you think so?"

Rilikin looks carefully over the menu. "A good recommendation, yes… I shall have that." He looks across at Maza, smiles a bit more, then just lets his hindpaw rest where it is. "Sounds delightful." He folds the menu, then lifts his waterglass to take a quiet, genteel lapping sip from it.

"I'll fetch them for you right away. Please consider the Entrees, and I'll be back in a moment." She walks away, her tail swishing behind her in a distracting fashion. Stopping, she turns back with her paw held to her nose in an embarrassed fashion. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Seisal," then she vanishes behind the scenery.

At the door, a cold voice – Bazl's undoubtedly – says, "I am sorry, gentlemen, but our dress code is quite specific. You'll have to leave." Some disappointed mutters filter in. Perhaps they didn't pay enough to be seated.

Maza leans forward once the waitress vanishes, barely even looking over the entrees. "What a rude woman," she says, her ears dipping a little. "Did you see the way that she made a face at you? Well!" The golden vixen squeezes the Keiltyn's hand gently. "What do you think we should have, Rilikin?"

Rilikin looks after the departing Gallee, then smiles and nods as she turns. "Quite alright. Seisal. Thank you." He turns back to Maza and tilts his head. "Rude? Ah, yes, I suppose so… " He gives her hand a gentle squeeze back, then looks into Maza's eyes again for a long moment before glancing down distractedly at the menu. "What should we have? It's all quite good, really… " He tries to focus on the menu, nosepad quivering slightly as he inhales a bit more jasmine scent.

Rilikin hms… "The medallions of wild Nordica dhicken are rather good. They're done in a very light, delicately spiced pala-fruit glaze… Quite good, actually." He tilts his head at the vixen, brushing a chocolate-furred finger along her hand's side and smiling at her. "Of course it's up to you, my lady. Whatever you prefer."

Maza looks at the menu as well, her ears doing cute semaphores as she ponders dishes… Then she smiles and looks up at the Keiltyn's suggestion. "Oh! That does sound wonderful, Rilikin. Let's do that."

Maza's tail swishes back and forth slowly, well groomed so that it seems to float on the air. She leans forward looking into Rilikin's eyes dreamily, resting her chin on her hand. "Mm, I'm starving, just thinking about it… "

Rilikin watches Maza's ears, smiling, then nods as she decides. "Very well. A good choice." His tail's tip brushes idly against Maza's tail as it swishes. He folds the menu, catches her gaze… and looks back into her eyes, a warm smile spreading over his muzzle. "I might have to admit that I seem to be feeling the same way… "

In due course, Seisal returns with Chef's salads which Rilikin picks at and Maza eats delightedly (and then wolfs down Rilikin's portion), small round loaves of a crusty bread baked right in the restaurant and a soft creamy cheese filled with bits of fruit, and then the medallions, served with a cinnamon-dusted rice pilaf at the side. Maza's appetite stays surprisingly hearty for such a delicate golden vixen, but she stays unfailingly pleasant throughout, asking numerous questions about Rilikin's patron, his work – "I mean, your art," she corrects with a pretty blush – and Rilikin himself, making the decorator very glad of the time he's put into fleshing out the character. Among other things, whether he's married…

Rilikin softly pats a tiny fleck of cinnamon from his muzzlefur, them smiles. "No, I'm afraid I'm not yet married, nor attached. Yourself? And… you mentioned the Ashdod region? Your home, was it?"

"What a shame," Maza says though her ears suggest that she doesn't think it much of one at all. "Oh, I was born in Babel… " Between sips of an elegant pale honey wine that flushes her ears a little, she describes the hanging gardens of the Sabaoth's palace and the many-tiered city.

Seisal shows up again, throughout the dinner a perfect example of prompt service, with a little extra consideration. She holds a bottle of wine against her uniform, her hands curled carefully about the body and stem. Her tail sways from side to side behind her, winking into view on either side of her shapely legs. "I thought perhaps you would like another vintage, one suitable for after the meal. A dry selection that will make dessert all the more pleasurable."

Rilikin sips some of the wine himself, commenting on its rather nice bouquet, his own ears softly blushed a bit. He listens, watching Maza quietly, then speaks softly. "It sounds like a lovely city… I shall have to visit it someday, it sounds as if I might well be inspired to new visions by the architecture you describe. And if it produces any as lovely as yourself, then it must be a wondrous place indeed." His eyes sparkle yet again as they look into Maza's, his hand resting on hers. His ears flick as Seisal returns, and he turns to regard her, smiling yet again. "Thank you, Seisal. That was most considerate. It sounds quite appropriate for an aperitif." He turns to sniff at the cork. "Quite good, yes. Maza, will you have some?"

Maza takes one of the fresh glasses offered by the waitress, Seisal, and smiles brilliantly to Rilikin, her eyes shining. "Yes, thank you, Rilikin. You are such a wonderful gentleman!" She holds her glass out to be filled.

Seisal returns the smile, both to Maza and then Rilikin. She carefully fills the vixen's glass, then places the bottle on the table. Folding her white hands against the front of her black dress she asks, "Would you like me to bring the dessert now, or would you prefer to leisurely enjoy your wine?"

Rilikin's ears blush a bit more. Either that, or he's already had a bit more wine than he usually would. "Thank you, Maza. Perhaps only in the presence of a beautiful lady, I suspect." He smiles, then listens to the question. "Maza? Dessert with this, or do you prefer a cleansed palate?"

"Let's just enjoy our wine for a little while," Maza suggests as she holds hands with Rilikin. "Do you know, I've just had a wonderful idea… Why don't you hire me to host parties for you? Then you could show off your lovely decorations in a nice suite somewhere in Noble's Quarter, and I could point out all of the lovely features of your deliciously innovative style. Don't you think that would be a good idea?"

Careful arrangement of potted plants and hanging vines, as well as the burbling central waterfall and extending streams help promote the impression of being outside in a garden, while ensuring privacy. Still, the other patrons can be easily glimpsed through the elaborate decorations, if one looks. The other servers can be seen also, carefully moving from table to table. A dessert cart is pushed around by a Rhian, while a very slick-furred Jupani clears another table. Several poodle couples are dining, as well as a few exotically dressed Kattha.

Seisal bows discreetly and disappears again.

Rilikin smiles widely. "I think that perhaps that would be an excellent idea. I prefer the artistry itself, not ill-fated attempts to explain it to those who do not understand. You, however, have a wonderful personality… I can imagine a number of positions better suited to you than your current undertaking." He sips more of his wine, then gently lets his ankle's fur brush against Maza's again as he looks into her eyes. "And even in that, you seem to excel. However did you manage to locate sources of the wood you'd been acquiring? I myself have searched, and haven't found the like… "

"Oh, I'm very resourceful," Maza says with a little giggle, hiding her muzzle with her hand in a ladylike manner. "You just have to know where to look. In little shops in Darkside, bargaining sharply with the shopkeepers where every tenth-shekel is a fortune, in the Bazaar where you could get almost anything if you knew where to look, or, lifted at night from unsuspecting crafters… " Her eyes sparkle as if sharing some joke with Rilikin.

Rilikin grins, his eyes sparkling too. "Really… " He tilts his head. "Do you think you might be able to… show me some of these places? I'm admittedly curious. And… it might perhaps translate into my art, if I could see just what the bits and pieces had experienced… " He sips another small taste of wine, then smiles and leans forward a bit. "And of course, I do well know that which is most unique is often acquired through alternative means, I am not innocent of that. How else might nobles obtain their prized display pieces from those who do not wish to part with them?" He looks into Maza's eyes and gives her paw a gentle squeeze. "I do believe you're quite skilled in that field, it seems?"

The slick-looking Jupani wheels the dessert cart close to the table. He stops, straightening up and adjusting a uniform which is much less interesting than Seisal's, both in the cut and the person presenting it. He asks in a gravely voice, "What would you like? We have… fruit, cheesecake, xhocolty cheesecake, pie, triumere." He points at various dishes.

Rilikin sits up again, giving Maza a soft wink and letting his hindpaw rest softly against her foot as he looks up to the desserts. "I shall have fruit, thank you… Maza?"

Maza looks innocent, blinking her long eyelashes at Rilikin. "I? That sounds more like a job for a light-paw than a little golden fox, just making the best of what life gives her." She squeezes the Keiltyn's hand in hers, then turns, blinking up at the Jupani with surprise. "What in the name of the First Ones are you doing here?!"

Rilikin tsks. "Of course not, I never deal with that sort. Rabble. Subtle acquisition of goods is what I speak of… " He trails off and looks between Maza and the Jupani, ears swiveling.

"Offering you dessert ma'am," the Jupani replies after a momentary pause. "Isn't there anything on the tray that might interest you?"

Rilikin looks curiously at Maza. "Do you know this gentleman? Or… perhaps you've had a bit too much wine?" He smiles softly.

Maza blinks a few times, and then smiles, darting a look back to Rilikin. "Of course. I'd like the cheese cake… " She shrugs expressively and gives the Keiltyn a soft little smile. "Oh, I thought he looked like an old friend of mine, but I must have been mistaken, Rilikin. It does happen."

Rilikin nods and smiles over his wineglass. "Of course it does. To me as well, I shall admit." He strokes the vixen's hand reassuringly. "Do not let it worry you."

Now that Rilikin has looked more closely, he can see that the Jupani bears a striking resemblance to Stavros, and could almost be a cleaned up and more presentable twin brother. The server asks, "Perhaps you would like some more wine?"

Rilikin flicks an ear, but otherwise shows no reaction. "Oh… no thank you, I've had quite enough. Excellent vintage. Maza?"

Maza smiles and nods. "Oh, 'tis quite wonderful. Thank you so much, dear Rilikin."

The Jupani nods, looking at Rilikin, and then Maza. "I'll go then and leave you two alone. I'll be conveniently close by if you'd like anything else." He pushes the cart past one of the potted plants.

Dinner finishes with surprisingly little in the way of actually useful information – Maza proves to be very good at changing the subject and talking about other things, such as the prettiness of Rilikin's eyes. She brushes her tail and lets it swing loose again, wafting jasmine into the air… Seisal shows up again with an odd look at the plates on the table, but resumes her poise and collects the bill, along with a suitably impressive tip from Rilikin.

After this, Rilikin offers, and Maza accepts a carriage ride back home, a quiet little apartment in Crafters' Quarter just over a wood-carver's shop, a quaint little store that smells of aromatic woods…

The golden vixen stretches up on her feet to kiss Rilikin's cheeks on both sides, and then holding hands with him, leans up to kiss his nose. "I had a delightful time, dear Rilikin," she murmurs. "We'll have to do this again!" She winks and then flirts her tail up against his as she walks to the door and opens it.

Rilikin smiles, his ears blushing more than a bit at the kiss. "As did I. And… yes, we shall have to. As soon as possible?" He lets his tail's fur mingle with hers as they brush, then just stands and watches the golden vixen walk to the door, ears splayed, tail swishing slowly back… and forth. "Goodnight… Er… Do you need anything else? If not I shall be going? That is… Ah." He pads after her and offers her the brush she used earlier. "Your fur is more deserving of this than mine… Maza." He smiles.

"That would be wonderful," Maza says as she stands silhouetted in the door of the shop, daylight on her golden fur contrasting with the shadowy indoor. She blows Rilikin a kiss. "Do send a message when you'd like to do this again, my dear!"

The door closes with a soft whoosh of air and then the sounds of soft buskin-wrapped feet move up the stairs.

Later that night, Kani, now wide awake, enters his office. Dark and cool at this hour, when most other Templars are asleep, it soon becomes a quiet workplace… A circle of warm light spreading around his desk and haloing his fur as he lights his reading lamp, then the sound of poured water, the soft glow of a tiny stove-lamp, and quiet clinks and rustles as he prepares a nice hot, soothing spicy mug of Kayrf Chai. Finally, mug in paw, he settles down in his seat behind the desk, selects parchment, dips a quill in the inkwell, and writes.

"It would seem that this operation is not being run by true professionals, rather by petty criminal sorts that never seem to go away, no matter how severe the punishment of their fellows. I am almost sure, from his profound nervousness at certain questions, that proprietor Gran is involved. However, he doesn't appear to be the operation's leader, simply the supplier of the pre-stamped packing crates to whomever is actually organizing and coordinating the entire scheme. Gran would seem to be a paid, scared accomplice, recruited by whomever is behind this scheme, much as the cargo boss captured at the Port raid was. Still, there is not yet hard evidence to convict him and his hired yardworkers, it is not illegal to purchase packing crates… only to fraudulently use the Customs stamps on them to bypass legal inspections. He must be proved to be involved in knowingly supplying them for this purpose, and to that end I recommend further close observation of him and his workers… perhaps cautiously tailing the outgoing cratewood from the yard."

"The worker I attempted to gain the trust of, a golden-furred female plantigrade vulpine by the name of Maza, seems not to be the type to be involved in something of this nature, but all the same, went to ends to attempt to deceive me."

Kani pauses, absently nibbling on the quill… and staring at it embarassedly a moment later as his sharp teeth puncture the stem and ruin its ink-draw, like a broken straw. He sighs and discards it, then dips another one, sips his drink, and returns to writing.

"She claimed to have 'had money' but that she had lost it all… That she was quite used to eating in the Noble's Quarter. Yet she acted more like a tourist upon entering the Mist Garden cafe, (quite good, actually, I recommend it for diplomatic functions) looking around with eyes a bit too wide… as if she'd not seen that sort of decor before, although anyone who frequented any establishment in the Noble's Quarter should have little more than a muted expression of approval. I at first considered this simply an attempt to impress me, innocent, of course… but then another event occurred that made me wonder. The restaurant's dessert waiter was none other than one of Gran's yard workers, neat and clean rather than scruffy, as he had been before. Whether he's actually either a waiter or a worker is now suspect, I will have him observed closely. I of course showed no recognition, but Maza appeared surprised and startled. It may be that she does not know of the greater plan involved her, that she's only working as an acquirer of wood for a lumber yard… or she might know. She might simply be a roguish sort, hoping to impress a noble's decorator, or she might be privy to the secrets of the operation. Her living accommodations are, however, modest, so I have difficulty believing that she is part of the smuggling ring's inner circle. Still, I would like to continue to attempt to earn her trust, that I might get close enough to find out where the smuggled wood is ending up, rather than where it's coming from. I will continue to report on all details of this investigation."

The fox lists particular clues and observations in a short, detailed list, then signs the parchment, folds it neatly, and seals it with wax and his uniquely-marked Temple Inquisition seal. Finished, he sips the rest of his Kayrf, then rises, extinguishes the lamp, and pads softly out of the office to deliver the report… and to then go out and enjoy the rest of the night while it's still dark.