A few days have passed without word from Imp. Brishen was told where the Savanite had hidden a small chitin blade just outside the inn, but after that the bat had been left on her own for the markets. The shops and merchants seem to provide an endless wealth of fruits, bugs, trinkets, clothes, and baubles.

Finally, there was some good news. The 'maid' left word with Brishen that Imp would be visiting her that evening, and to try and make sure she was waiting in the room. There was also an odd added mention of leaving the window unlocked as well.

Brishen sighs quietly as she walks out of the washroom, wrapped neatly in a large, fuzzy towel. Even after being in Babel for a few days, she has yet to shake free of the feeling of unreality – Of being so close to a home she once knew, yet cut from it in one important way: The young, sandy-furred bat that looks back at her from the mirror is as new to her as she imagines Liesje was to the old innkeeper, or any of the dozens of merchants she had seen over the course of her erstwhile vacation.

*Crack* – Something hits the shutters of the window. It sounds like a small stone.

*Clatter* Another stone.

Brishen blinks, mumbling as she pads over to peer out of the window. It would have to be right after I'd gotten out of the bath. There's a faint creak as she unlocks the window.

For a moment, nothing can be seen outside, then the bat's gaze takes her straight down… to see a skinnySavanite shimmying his way up the wall. He seems to be an awfully good climber.

Brishen blinks, once, then opens the window a sliver and takes a few steps back.

The window slowly creaks open as the Savanite tumbles in. He just lies on the floor and pants for a bit and then notices Brishen's 'attire'. The fur on his tail poofs out and he hastily covers his eyes. His other hand signs, "Sorrysorrysorrysorry!"

Brishen stifles a giggle, holding her towel snug with one hand, while she shuts the window, locks it, and for good measure draws the curtain. Then she turns about and signs rapidly. "It's okay! Just – You look so silly, like that."

Unfortunately Imp doesn't seem to notice Brishen's signs all that well with his eyes covered up. He does hear the shutters close, though, and peeks out through his fingers for a moment. "Go change! I not look," he signs.

Brishen reaches over and tugs the Savanite's hand from his eyes, then signs again just to make sure. "Okay, okay. I have a question, first." She glances at the Savanite, then pads over to her bed where, after a moment, she holds up an outfit not unlike something she'd seen a girl her erstwhile age wearing, in the markets. "Is there anything wrong with the color? I'm not going to know."

Imp's ears blush bright red. "No… not at all. I'm sure that green and blue would look very nice on you, especially at this time of year."

The Savanite promptly covers his eyes again.

Brishen sighs elaborately, then shakes her head and makes a detour to the closet where she gathers up some reliable, dark attire. Then she heads for the wardrobe. The bat that emerges is clad in simple, dark shorts, and a snug, sleeveless shirt. "Better safe than sorry," she murmurs. "Alright, I'm ready."

Slowly, Imp pulls his hands away and signs. "My apologies, my mistress. I did not know you would be bathing. I hope I did not offend?"

Brishen adds a pair of soft-soled shoes, after a moment's thought, then glances over at Imp. "I've worn less in public," she quips. She stretches, spreading her wings out as far as they'll reach, then continues. "Why did you want to enter through the window, anyway?"

"I should still allow a lady her privacy." The Savanite's tail swishes back and forth as he tries to get the hairs to lay back down. "Didn't want to be seen. I've gotten leads on Degarde and Creencaller."

Brishen bites her lower lip and closes her eyes for a few seconds, then signs, quickly, with both hands. "Do you know where Creencaller is?"

"In a bug juice factory. He's safe and fine, and is working at crushing bugs in vats with his feet." Imp dances from foot to foot as emphasis.

Brishen stares at Imp as he dances about. "I – I guess someone has to crush them. Do you know anything about the factory? What about who runs it?"

"Working on it. It's a small business; the owner should be local." Imp rubs his nose, "I was unable to find Degarde… but he has a brother here, who Degarde was very very close to. If anyone knows where he and your friend are, it would be him. We can arrange for you two to meet if you like."

Brishen looks around. "Bugs. I have to think… " She scrambles onto the bed, then dangles by her knees from the bar that crosses in an arc above. She crosses her arms, then remembers she'll need them. "I don't know if that would be safe. But still – Tell me about his brother."

The Savanite tilts his head sideways to read Brishen's signs better. "His name is Cicero. A very quiet man that does errand work and records keeping for the Tower staff. He is younger than Degarde and not as outgoing, but the two were extremely close. We are fairly certain that Cicero would have gotten word from Degarde. If there was anyone he would tell about his quest, it would be him."

Brishen nods. Her hair brushes along the bed beneath her. "Do you know how long he's been in the city?"

The Savanite taps his foot, contemplating. "No… I don't. He may have never left the city in his life; he may leave for Rephidim once a week. It's hard to keep track of people here, especially when most of them can fly."

Brishen nods. "It's likely that Degarde is disguised as well." She smirks. "It won't make it easy to find him." She dangles for a while, wings half-spread, then flops down on the bed. "I can't risk seeing Cicero right now, but I would like to know what he looks like. It's more important for now, though, that we learn more about Creencaller."

"As far as we know, neither Reico or Degarde are in Babel… and we think they might not even be in Ashdod, but only Cicero would know for sure." Imp nods his head. "Of course, Madame. The factory holding Creencaller is fairly clean. We are not sure how secure it is, as we were only able to track him by following a bill of sale. I can get you more information soon. Is there anything in particular I should take note of?"

Brishen bites her lower lip. "If you know where I can see him, it might be a good idea to get a look at Cicero tonight. As for the factory, I want to know who sees Creencaller every day, who will miss him – The slaves that work with him, the foremen. Also, the slave-trader for the factory. If something comes up and the business starts selling slaves, we'll need to move faster."

"So noted." Imp sits down on the bed and flicks his tail. "There may be a chance for you to run into him at the ball later this week. It's mostly traveling merchants and such, as we know you're trying to avoid government types. You would need to purchase clothing, though." He licks the palm of his hand and wipes it across his face before resuming his signs, "Should we plan for a break-in at the factory or would you prefer us to just keep watch and be wary for now?"

Brishen stares, pensively, at her hands. "We watch for now, but not for too long – enough to know how the factory governs its day, when those days are good and bad, both." She tilts her head. "If you can get copies of manifests – letters of trade from the people doing business with the factory, that may give us a good idea of when they'll be too busy to notice a few extra people."

Brishen squeaks, faintly. "As for the ball – I'll need help." She grins. "Not you – the one with the blue tail-ribbon. She can be my eyes for color." Brishen frowns, slightly, then looks over at Imp. "The ball won't be safe – Especially if people ask too many questions about my erstwhile father's business."

"We may be able to arrange a more private meeting. Or we could provide you with makings for a different disguise; it is all up to you. Imp taps his nose again. "Should we get supplies like weapons and grappling ropes for Creencaller, or just plot out schedules and such?"

Brishen brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. "That depends – How secure is the factory?"

"Not much call for bug juice on the black market," Imp signs. "I'd say three guards at most and some employees… most of whom will be stomping in vats."

Brishen nods. "Good." She rubs her forehead. "Watch the factory for a week. If anything weird happens, let me know. If it looks like we'll need any special supplies, let me know before buying them. I don't want to be burdened by anything we may have to leave behind. A grapple will be a good start – something to cut glass, quietly, as well. As for weapons – The fewer people hurt, the better. We should rely on surprise more than force."

"Understood. We may need to ask you for money for supplies. Should we also look into slipping you into the ball? One of ours manages the invitations… it would be easy to fabricate any identity you wish," Imp's fingers sign. He swats away a little blue beetle flying past his ear.

Brishen nods. "I might have to go to the ball, but I'd like to meet Cicero in a quieter spot. Especially if I ask him some of the questions I might. I'll still need a disguise: something dark, that I can fly in easily. And black dye for my fur that I can wash out later." She glances at the beetle. "As for money, I don't think that'll be a problem."

Brishen squeaks, and reaches out to catch the shiny insect.

"If you go to the ball, you may have to purchase a dress, although it should not be a problem to find a proper one in such a place as here." Imp moves to the window. "Anything else before I go, mistress?"

The bug is easily caught. It's a shiny blue beetle that squirms in the bat's grasp.

Brishen sniffs at the bug, absently. It could be edible. "Before the week is out, I'd like to meet with Cicero: First, to get a look at him – Later, perhaps, to talk." She peers at the beetle. "When will you be here, next?"

"I will be unavailable tomorrow. The day after will be difficult, but I can spare a minute or two if it is important. After that, I should be available longer unless something happens." Imp sniffs out through the closed windowpane.

Brishen nods. "I'll keep that in mind… " She grins. "If only so I don't embarrass you."

The beetle looks like one of the kind usually used for the centers of certain cookies. Probably edible… usually these have a minty taste when cooked. Hard to figure what they might be raw,

Imp nods. "I'll do my best. Have a good night, mistress." And with that he slowly unlocks the window and starts to scrabble outside.

Brishen pads over to the window, looking out to make sure Imp is clear of the windows, then shuts it, squeaking along with the lock as it creaks shut. Then, she turns back to the bug. "Hi. I'm not sure if I can eat you, so – " She wanders into the washroom where, in the time-honored, traditional way, she disposes of the bug.