Gamori

Part 13

 I had not seen Sindar in over a month. I went to his villa in the Merchant District, only to discover that the guildmaster of the Sandwich Makers, Yerbert Yob, had bought the house at a property auction a week ago. Master Yerbert told me he was clueless as to where the previous owner was, so I went canvassing at Sindar's favorite haunts.

Jex Mistycoast, the proprietor of the Dragons of the Tide, claimed she hadn't seen him at his preferred table, or any table, in weeks. Over at the Ship of Fools, a serving girl named Mel said she was dismayed that their most beloved patron had seemingly boycotted them, especially since Mister Pesh enjoyed a discount. Similar things were uttered at the Bouncing Octopus, the Little Sea Squirt, the Wharf Rat, and the Fighting Flounder.

Finally, I got a lead. Buffels Grimsby, a bartender at the Flying Fist, said he heard the merchant had moved back to Gwand to live with family. Checking with an official at the harbormaster's office, Steevus Plomp, a possible record of his departure was found: a passenger manifest for the carrack Bottom Feeder, recently bound for Vindazag, had the name Sindor Poosh scribbled on it, as if by a small child or someone barely literate. The Bottom Feeder is now home to actual bottom feeders, as it sank with great rapidity just two hours out of port. The lone survivor was a deckhand, one Ubbar Azzerbajazzer, who had been hired right before the Bottom Feeder had set sail to her doom. Incredibly, he had managed to row himself to shore in the only undamaged lifeboat. According to Ubbar, the ship was poorly maintained and "had a big hole in the side which started letting lots of water in". I went to find Mister Azzerbajazzer, but was informed that his headless body, riddled with stab wounds, was found in an alley next to his severed head, shortly after his living and very much attached head left its statement with authorities. This incident was confirmed by a lieutenant of the city watch in the Docks District, Snard Slammers, who had seen the grizzly mess firsthand. Lieutenant Slammers had heard nothing of the whereabouts of Sindar Pesh, nor of Sindor Poosh, but was kind enough to promise to put up missing posters.

Maybe Thok knew something. I visited the cat sanctuary he founded, called the Fanged Destroyer's Stronghold. The sign was painted by Thok himself, and on it is depicted a cartoonish tabby baring its fangs, perched atop an equally cartoonish castle. The presence of several armed guards made it clear that, unlike many establishments in Portsgate, he didn't pay for "protection"; he was given protection. Talking over some mint tea, the regal grimalkin Blagt-Utgor purring on my lap, the former bodyguard said that he hadn't seen our mutual friend in a month, either, but would ask around as best he could. I complimented him on the quality of the many satin pillows the cats slept on, and left a hefty donation.

There was now only one person who could help me discover the truth about what happened to Sindar.

Just before closing time I walked under the duskvine trellis and entered The Oracle's Cameo. The owner was not on any of the sales floors. One of the staff said she was down in her office, which lies below ground along with some storerooms. I descended the stairs and walked past some Deathspider bodyguards down the main corridor. The door to the posh office was open. Sitting behind behind a curved teak desk, which was covered with documents and ledgers, was Jezrin, wearing a revealing outfit of black netting. Around her neck was a pendant, set with an octahedron of onyx. In a plush chair to her right, drinking a cup of kirwen coffee, was a shadowweaver named Wakoom, a woman in her late forties who served as consigliere. The two were were having an animated conversation in Nasadi, which I was now fluent in.

Wakoom ceased speaking upon seeing me in the doorway, but Jezrin motioned me in, saying, "Be a dear and shut the door, will you? Help yourself to coffee and honey-cakes."

Turning to Wakoom, she said, "It's alright, we can talk simple business in front of her, you know that. Now, are you seriously telling me that this so-called master bucket maker can't be persuaded? Doesn't he enjoy counting gold? How about being gutted like a fish, does he fear that?"