“Against those that watch them… just so.  Fluid motion, fabric that moves just so.. to hide things… extra weight?  Chubby hips?  Or other items perhaps.  You have the right of it.  We are interested in mirrorcraft.”  He tilts his head and waits, turns to Shenua as she speaks and watches the man’s face for a reaction.  He seems trustworthy.  No sign of deception or guile that he can tell.  

He waits to see what the proprietor says in response to her words, but with his lack of any evidence to the contrary, Vorenus decides to trust the man, but just so far.  If there is no recognition or acceptance after Shenua’s words, Vorenus leans in and with a whisper, says “A good friend name Lirae recommended we find you here, if that name helps…”.  ((Acting on an insight of 2)).  “And since we are speaking of names, what is yours, my good man?  I am Vorenus, some would say Vorenus the Traveller, some would say Vorenus the Great!  And for what reason is this Greatness assigned?  Why my dancing, of course!  I have been known to do the shimmy shimmy Lindy hop with such a fortitude and vigor that it would make all of the ladies swoon!  This is my delightful Iromae and my talented Shenua, students of the dancing arts, along other notable skills and handiwork.”  Vorenus starts to give him a little of the knee dance shimmy but stops himself, regaining his composure and leans into the man.  “So please, do help three excellent dancers who have such skill and need to find something suitable for the masquerade, if you can help us, dear sir.  Your skills in the weave of these fabrics and mirrorcraft are much desired and needed, my friend.”  Vorenus gives a knowing smile and wink at the man, making it clear that while he can dance with the best of them, there are many other tricks and skills behind what Vorenus is saying that he has in his toolbox..

Persuasion : 15

Following Shenua's comments to the proprietor, for a moment, the only sound is the low whisper of enchanted cloth sliding against itself — like water folding over silk. The proprietor watches the three of you in stillness so perfect it’s almost unnatural. Then, a single silver brow lifts.

“The Royal Research College,” they repeat softly. “Now there’s a name that still opens doors … even the ones people pretend are locked.”

Their gaze drifts briefly toward Shenua, as if appraising her with new understanding. Then to Vorenus — and the faintest smile touches their lips when he says Lirae. It’s there for barely a heartbeat, but it’s unmistakable.

“Ah. Lirae.”

The name is spoken with something between amusement and exasperation.

“So she’s still meddling in the Crown’s threads, is she? I wondered why she hadn’t been in to collect her last commission.”

That subtle recognition seems to shift the air in the room. The shimmer in the fabrics calms; the flicker of warding sigils at the door dims slightly. The proprietor’s posture loosens, and when they speak again, the tone carries the faintest warmth.

“Then it seems we do, in fact, have business. You’ll forgive my caution — these walls have ears, and not all of them are sewn with thread.”

They turn, gesturing for you to follow toward the rear of the shop. As they walk, the customers near the front take their leave, the noble’s soft-voiced aide murmuring something about “reporting back to the Duke.” The chime rings again as the door closes behind them, leaving the three of you alone with your host.

Iromae, as you glanced at the masked noble before he left, you caught a gleam of a signet on his glove — a silver crest marked with three stars above a crown. The emblem of House Rhynn, one of Suzail’s oldest and most loyal families to the Crown.

The back room is smaller, quieter, and layered with privacy wards that make the air feel heavy but safe. Rolls of fabric are stacked neatly beside a low table. Here, the proprietor finally gives a proper introduction.

“My name is Merienne Thestrel. Proprietor, designer, and, on occasion, confidant to those who prefer to stay unnoticed at royal gatherings.”

They study each of you in turn.

“If you came by Lirae’s word, then you already know mirrorcraft is not fashion — it’s shielding, misdirection, concealment. Each piece tailored to its wearer. What she neglected to mention, I suspect, is that it requires a resonance to the Weave itself.”

Their eyes linger on Shenua and Vorenus — longer than on Iromae — as though sensing the faint echo of what happened the night before.

“You’ve touched something recently, haven’t you? Something raw. Fractured.”

The statement isn’t quite a question.

“That will make this … complicated. The Weave around you isn’t stable — but it can be shaped. If you still intend to attend the Masquerade, I can make you what you need. But you’ll have to decide what kind of reflection you want the garments to carry: to hide what you are … or to reveal it.”

You each sense a subtle test behind Merienne’s words. How you answer will determine the nature of the mirrorcraft that’s made for you — and perhaps, what Merienne will truly think of your cause.

You may each respond in your own way, with:

• Persuasion or Deception to influence Merienne’s trust or protect your secrets.
• Arcana to show you understand the concept of mirrorcraft and the Weave’s resonance.
• Or Insight to gauge whether this offer is genuine help … or a trap stitched in silk.

Edit: Shenua, as you glanced at the masked noble before he left, you caught a gleam of a signet on his glove — a silver crest marked with three stars above a crown. The emblem of House Rhynn, one of Suzail’s oldest and most loyal families to the Crown.

With her inspection of the plain customer, Iromae notices just enough to feel uncertain, but not enough to be sure. The plainer customer, a human man in simple traveling clothes, appears mostly disinterested — at least on the surface. He’s fingering a roll of deep blue cloth, pretending to study the stitching. But twice, Iromae notices his eyes flick toward the party — once when Shenua mentions the Royal Research College, and again when Vorenus says Lirae’s name. It’s subtle, easily missed, and he doesn’t linger long. He makes no move toward them, no attempt to intervene, and even pays for a small length of fabric before leaving. Still, something about his quick exit feels a touch too casual. She can’t tell if he overheard enough to matter — or if he was merely curious about new customers in an exclusive shop. But the seed of unease is there: someone might now know they invoked Lirae’s name inside the Veil & Vellum.

Iromae carefully watched the customer leave, uncertain as to whether they actually overheard them or not. But it does make her a bit more anxious to move things along. She listens carefully to Merienne, nodding at some of her statements. As the woman's eyes linger on first Shenua then Vorenus, she too looks at each with a touch of worry. She knew the strain their encounter with the node had put on her. But she had not really altered the Weave, more held things together. 

She speaks up first, her tactic clear from the start. It seemed pointless to not trust the woman now. She clearly had a sense of their purpose here. It was just a matter of showing she understood the arcane aspects of this mirrorcraft. And to articulate what they would need. "Madame Thestrel, I think it goes without saying that our benefactor need not have explained the need for resonance. I think most important is to conceal the true nature of our facility with that resonance. To divert anything that might be ascertained from divination."  She goes on to give her best explanation of the nuances of arcane theory behind the mirrorcraft. (Arcana: 15) 

Shenua takes mental note of the signet ring — three stars above a crown — though she's not entirely sure what to make of it yet. If House Rhynn is truly one of the Crown's most loyal families, then that Duke is likely someone to avoid at the Masquerade, not a potential ally. Once again — and surely not for the last time — the tiefling feels the absence of Lirae, who would surely have been able to tell them more on that matter. She glances at Merienne, wondering whether the proprietor can be trusted enough to ask directly.

As she's thinking this, Shenua notices how Merienne's gaze lingers on Vorenus and herself. The comment about having "touched something raw and fractured" makes her frown.

"Excuse me, Madame Thestrel," she says cautiously, "what makes you say that? Is it because you know more than you let on, or because something about us stands out so plainly to the discerning eye? The latter would concern me more, because it would mean we'll need mirrorcraft not only for the Masquerade … but for the rest of the time as well."

The artificer, who had relaxed somewhat when Merienne led them into the rear of the shop — a place that at least felt private — now feels that tension return. If this proprietor could read so much from just a glance, what could they expect at a Masquerade full of people who made deception their art?

(Insight: not great, a 9)

Vorenus gives a smile to Merienne and follows to the back room, clearly more comfortable here.  He is relieved when he has the feeling that finally we have found someone who can help.  He does not notice the pitch of his voice when saying the name nor the manner in which the other patrons left the establishment.  He is laser focused on getting help with their problem of hiding their magical nature.  He nods absentmindely when the term "fractured" is mentioned, thinking to himself and agreeing with what he hears.  Then turns when he hears Shenua ask the question that was in his mind.  

"You must know that we wish to hide our magical nature.  Also any small magic items that might be on our person.  We have a sense that there will be ... detectors... at the masquerade.  And we need something that can shield our nature from being discovered.  I feel that you are here, put in this place in time to help us.  That we can trust you.  I hope that is not misplaced.  You don't want to come down on the wrong side of history, do you?  For I feel that we can accomplish something extraordinary, to help everyone here, if you will help us.  Sometimes there are moments in time, time cruxes, decision points, whatever you may call them.  What you do right now is one of those points.  Please... no more dancing around.  Help us, won't you?"  Vorenus stands to his full height, in case he is to be measured, and to let the guise of the old teacher guiding his two star pupils go.  He feels that we are well beyond that now ...

Persuasion : 24

Merienne Thestrel listens to them all with the stillness of one who has seen far more than she ever admits aloud. Her pale eyes fix on Iromae as she speaks of resonance and concealment, and there’s the faintest lift to one corner of her mouth — not quite a smile, more an acknowledgment.

"Your grasp of the theory is sound," she says quietly, her voice low and measured. "Resonance can be muted, redirected … but it cannot be erased. A mirror must always reflect something, even if it shows only what the viewer expects to see. What you ask is possible — though costly, and not without risk to the weaver. But the pattern can be held."

She glances toward Shenua then, and for an instant, those discerning eyes sharpen with something like pity. "It is not your stance or speech that gives you away, my dear. It is the Weave itself. It hums differently around those who have been near a wound. To the trained senses, it is … unmistakable. You carry that mark now — all of you do, in your own ways."

When Vorenus straightens and speaks from conviction rather than charm, Merienne’s attention returns to him. She watches him in silence through his entire appeal, weighing his words with a gravity that stretches the moment thin. Then she exhales, almost like someone conceding to inevitability.

"You are right," she says at last. "History has already turned, and this city has not yet realized how sharp the bend will be. The Crown would cage anything it cannot understand — and the Guilds would bind it in silks and sell it by the yard. Neither path suits me."

A subtle gesture follows: she draws back the shimmering quicksilver fabric, revealing a locked coffer beneath. The air around it ripples faintly with abjuration. She unclasps it with a whispered word, producing three folded garments — simple at first glance, yet catching light in strange ways, as though they were woven of reflected dusk.

"These are unkeyed mirrorcraft. They have no attunement yet — safe to touch. They will mask your auras, blur scrying, and confound the city’s detectors, for a time. But you will need proper fitting, and a resonance trace from each of you. A thread of hair or drop of blood will suffice. Once I’ve anchored the pattern, they will serve you through the Masquerade … and perhaps longer, if the threads hold."

Her gaze flicks toward the shuttered window before lowering her voice another notch. "Know this: the Duke of Rhynn has ordered new garments of his own, and his envoy reports directly to the Spire. Whatever you are walking into at that Masquerade, he will be there — and he will be watching."

She straightens, eyes returning to them, the faintest wry smile ghosting across her lips. "So — shall I begin your fittings, then? Or would you prefer to discuss the price first?"

Iromae had nodded at Merienne's comments to her. 'Yea, there is a question of what to reflect,' she thought. Then she watched a bit uneasily as Shenua questioned Merienne. 'So, our experience at the node left a mark. Just how many though could see such a thing?' She wondered, 'Is it something I might have been able to see?'  She considers her knowledge of the Weave and tries to think of how she might do that - would it require active spell casting or just the right observation? (Arcana: 11)

Finally focusing back on the tasks at hand, she replies to the woman's question. "Maybe we ought to speak of price first," she says shyly, a bit of a blush coming to her face. "I know I'm not particularly wealthy. Not like the Duke of Rhynn certainly."  Her gaze moves to look towards the door. "The Duke is an ally of the crown, is he not? Why should he need worry about concealment? But who was your other patron? I'm not sure, but I fear he may have heard a bit of our conversation before he departed." 

Her eyes fall on the garments, physically complete yet waiting for the fitting that would be needed to complete them magically. "A thread of hair would be easy enough to provide. Or whatever works the best," she says. 

As Merienne's gaze lingers on her and Vorenus, Shenua glances down, half-expecting to see some visible trace of the mark the woman described. How had she not thought of this? Of course the shard and the manacle fragment would have left a mark! The realization makes her want to wear one of those mirrorcraft pieces even more strongly.

When the proprietor of the Veil & Vellum reveals the folded pieces, the tiefling's breath catches. "They're beautiful," she murmurs, then meets the artisan's eyes as she keeps speaking. The woman feels genuine, aligned with their aideals … but trust alone won't pay for such work.

"My friend is right: we can't match the Duke of Rhynn’s purse," she admits. "But perhaps we can offer something else. A service. A favor. If there's something you need done, we might repay you that way. Maybe even something we could accomplish at the Masquerade?"

As Iromae speaks of the departing patron, Shenua tenses. She turns slightly toward the front room, checking for any sign of returning footsteps or watching eyes.

Not one for half measures, Vorenus pulls out a previously hidden dagger at his side, silently pulling it up towards and across his hand, making a cut over his palm and drawing the requisite blood sample that should bind him to the clothing.  “I wish to discuss the fitting.  This will bind.  The price we will work through.  I don’t think you operate on coin alone, no, you are part of a bigger picture.  We are an investment, you see.  For your future.  We are… something different.  Something that doesn’t come by every day.  Something that could change ..your world.  How much is that worth?  Hard to fathom.  So, I think that you will see, we are worth your time, your effort, your craft.  And I am ready, bind me to my fitting.  Make it work, hide what lies beneath.  For your future, Merienne.  You know that I am right and what I say is true…”. Vorenus holds his hand with pooled blood up for evaluation and next steps.  He glances over at Shenua and Iromae, almost embarrassed at his bold efforts to continue their task, but holding a stiff upper lip, convinced that what he says and does is right.  At times he doesn’t think through all possibilities, he acts with his gut, and this is one of those times.  

Merienne Thestrel’s eyes widen a fraction as Vorenus draws the blade across his palm. “Sainted stars, man —” she begins, but stops herself. Instead of scolding, she studies the blood with clinical curiosity. Her gaze sharpens, a glint of Weave-sight flickering behind it. Then, to the group’s surprise, she reaches across the counter and catches a single droplet on her fingertip. The red glimmers briefly silver as she whispers a sigil-word under her breath.

The glow fades. She exhales.

“I see,” she murmurs. “Yes. You are marked. All three of you. It is not visible to the untrained eye, but to anyone with the sight to read resonance — arcane, divine, or otherwise — you would appear as threads pulled from a tapestry before it was finished. Raw, bright, and unfinished. Very dangerous, if the wrong eyes take notice.”

Merienne wipes the blood away with a folded square of linen and then, as she turns, her eyes linger on Iromae — the faintest knowing smile touching her lips. “You’re wondering if you could see what I see,” she says softly. “In my trade, one learns to look at the space between stitches — the void where the Weave hides its imperfections. I have spent years teaching my eyes to notice what others must cast spells to glimpse. It’s not power, my dear. Just practice. And necessity.”

Then, responding to Iromae’s questions, she continues without missing a beat: “The Duke of Rhynn,” she says, tone carefully neutral, “is indeed an ally of the Crown. A dutiful one. But even the loyal have secrets to guard — and appearances to maintain. As for the other patron …” her gaze flicks toward the front of the shop, “… a scholar of modest means and excessive caution. He heard only what he was meant to hear, and will cause you no trouble, I'd wager. Still, it is wise to be wary — discretion is what keeps my shop open.”

Turning back to the trio, Merienne folds her hands atop the counter. “Let us speak plainly. A single mirrorcraft garment costs 200 gold. Each of yours will need unique adjustments — that is 600, and I see you do not carry that sort of purse. But perhaps we may strike a different bargain,” she says with a nod toward Shenua.

She gestures subtly toward the shop’s shuttered windows. “I do not deal in charity. Yet I do believe in reciprocity. There are tasks I cannot attend to myself — errands requiring tact, discretion, and the kind of audacity you clearly possess. If you would take on two such errands, I would consider your service payment in full.” She turns her full attention on Vorenus, scrutinizing him, before saying, "I have no idea why, but I feel as though I can trust you." 

OOC: I rolled a 22 on a persuasion roll for you, T.

Her eyes shift toward the front of the shop again. “The first task is simple, and a test of faith. A parcel of enchanted silver thread I commissioned from the Silvershroud Guild has gone missing. It should have arrived yesterday. The courier was last seen near the Pale Fountain Square before the Crown’s inspectors seized several deliveries bound for ‘unregistered artisans.’ Bring me the thread — or proof of what became of it — and I will begin your fittings.”

Then she glances at the three unfinished garments on the rack behind her. “Complete that first task, and we shall speak of the second. That one will earn your mirrorcraft outright.”

Merienne’s smile returns — faint, knowing, and touched by something like respect. “Do we have an understanding?”

Iromae gives the slightest of nods to Merienne when she comments on her trying to see what she sees. She does wish she had that kind of acuity with seeing the Weave, without overt magic. But it was clearly a craft earned through long study. But she will have to remember to 'look between stitches.'  It's a phrase that stuck with her.  She is also a bit intrigued hearing that even close allies of the crown might have secrets to hide. It doesn't totally make sense to her, and it makes her head spin to imagine the complex web of secrets and appearances that might form the lives of those families. 

The initial talk of cost brings a bleak look to the elf's face. These are numbers so far beyond what she has ever had! She is marginally relieved to hear the woman speak of reciprocity and the 'errands' that might earn them the mirrorcraft garments they need. Though what might they have to do to earn so much gold?  The first task sounds simple enough, and whatever the second it is, it seems worth the chance. "Yes, we do have an understanding. We'll do your tasks," she quickly answered. 

It is only after speaking that Iromae turns to Shenua and Vorenus. "I mean, I certainly would agree. Uhm, if you two agree as well."  

Still, she doesn't wait for their response before starting to delve into thinking about their first task. "Can you describe this courier to us? I'm I to assume from what you said that your parcel fits the category of 'deliveries to unregistered artisans'?"  She thinks a moment, then asks, "Do you happen to have any of this enchanted silver thread that I could see?  And was this thread somewhat unique. If I could search for it, it isn't something that would just pop up all over the place?" She stops, waiting for some replies, though it seems she might have even more questions to come. 

Shenua's eyes widen in alarm as Vorenus slices open his palm. She half-raises a hand, ready to remark that a single pinprick would have done, but the way Merienne reacts to this gesture and the sorcerer's words stays her tongue. Instead she lets out a quiet breath and shakes her head with a small, fond smile. Good old Vorenus!

"We'll be wary of the Duke of Rhynn," she agrees. Still, she can't deny it would be useful if they could learn something about those secrets he apparently keeps.

When Merienne names the price, her eyes widen a second time, but she recovers quickly. "Yes! Yes, of course. I'm willing to help with the tasks as well."

At the description of the first errand, she lets out a soft, amused breath. "So instead of looking for a needle in a haystack, we're after an enchanted thread confiscated by inspectors. Well… we'll do our best." In truth, she has no idea how they'll even begin ... but she hopes they'll find a way.

She listens as Iromae asks her questions, nodding along, then adds her own: "Where do the Crown's inspectors usually gather? If they intercept deliveries often, they must have a place where they sort and store them. Some kind of official holding site?" She tilts her head slightly. "And what do they usually seize? Only magical items, or mundane iones as well?"

Vorenus stands there holding his hand in the air, waiting, then slowly closes his hand.  He listens to Merienne’s words with a grim smile on his face, grunting occasionally.  “This parcel, this thread.  Do you think the Crown’s inspectors have it?  How could we obtain it if it is within their evidence room?  That is a large ask, going around the inspectors, without magically shielded clothing, hoping that we will get lucky and find some evidence of where it is, of obtaining it.  Do you have any other information about it, where we should begin?  I would love to help you, but I want to have some chance of succeeding…”

Merienne studies you for a moment, then nods once, brisk and efficient. “You have my thanks,” she says. “And yes — I will tell you everything I can that won’t get you or me killed.”

The courier and the parcel: The courier was a lithe human male, mid-thirties, kept his hair cropped close and wore a faded red scarf (easy to miss). He rides light — not a noble’s retinue, more the sort hired by guild courier services and small artisans. He carried a small, square satchel stamped with the Silvershroud Guild mark: a needle crossed with three looping threads. He was seen last near Pale Fountain Square at dusk, bargaining with a middleman who was gone before inspectors arrived. Merienne adds, quietly, “If you find anyone with that satchel, the thread will be inside.”

What the thread looks like and how unique it is: The enchanted silver thread is unusual; it gleams like quicksilver even in dim light, and it hums faintly when you bring it near an active weave node. It is not a common commodity — Silvershroud controls its sale. If you find it, it will be easy to identify to someone who knows what to look for (Merienne will know). It’s not likely to have been re-sold in plain sight; people who handle it tend to stash or fence it with cautious buyers.

Where inspectors operate and what they seize: Inspectors are attached to the Crown’s logistics office — they operate most heavily around Pale Fountain/Market District and the East Gate Warehouses (where unregulated goods are sorted). When they seize packages, they keep enchanted or suspect items in a temporary holding facility: an evidence storeroom at the Watchhouse Annex (a block east of the market). They do seize both magical and mundane goods (anything unregistered or suspicious). Merienne warns: when inspectors take something, it often moves fast — either into official evidence or into private hands before registry. That middle step (who walked off with it?) is what you’ll likely need to find.

Why the Duke/other patrons might care: Yes, even Crown allies have reasons to hide things. Sometimes it’s personal comforts, sometimes contraband, sometimes messages. Merienne won’t gossip — but she will say carefully: “The Duke of Rhynn is connected to powerful houses. Asking questions openly about him is dangerous. He rarely needs mirrorcraft, but he pays well for exclusivity. The other patron was cautious — he preferred the shadows. That explains the courier’s odd route.”

What Merienne wants:

Task One (faith test): Recover the Silvershroud parcel or clear proof of what became of it (a witness who saw where it went, a ledger entry, or the empty satchel with its mark). Bring Merienne the thread or irrefutable proof and she begins fittings.

Task Two (solidify purchase): A second, trickier job — she’ll reveal the details only after you finish the first. She promises it will be feasible but not trivial.

She gives you a final practical bit of help: “Pale Fountain is noisy, crowded, and the inspectors are visible there but don’t always watch the same vendors. Look for the middleman who deals in off-log shipments — his name is Garrick, apprentice at the old stall by the fountain. He likes to meet at dusk beneath the east lamp. Ask his associates for the courier’s description. Be careful — Garrick keeps his mouth closed for a reason.”

OOC: You all have been so creative so far. I'm going to end this post here and see what you come up with. But if this is too vague, and you're stumped, say so, and I'll give a little push.

Shenua rubs her chin, thinking as Merienne speaks. "We'll head to Pale Fountain Square, then. We can mingle with the crowd there, watch the inspectors, and learn how they move. If we understand their patterns, we might learn something useful. And we can find and speak to that middleman, Garrick, of course."

The tiefling hesitates, then offers an idea. "Merienne — do you happen to have a parcel or satchel stamped with the Silvershroud mark? If so, we could use it as bait: enchant a mundane item, leave it where an inspector will find it, and follow whoever comes for it. It could show us the route your thread took. Or, if the chance presents itself, we could use it instead as a decoy and swap it for the parcel containing the real thread."

Merienne’s lips quirk in that thin, sharp-edged smile that always looks halfway between amusement and approval. “A clever thought, Shenua,” she says, folding her hands over the measuring tape still looped about her neck. “And yes … I may have just the thing.”

She crosses the workshop, her slippers whispering across the tiled floor, and withdraws a small parcel from a drawer beneath her worktable — a soft leather satchel, the Silvershroud’s needle-and-thread emblem faintly impressed upon its clasp. The mark gleams only when it catches the lamplight.

“It belonged to a courier who never came to collect his pay,” Merienne explains.

She glances toward the window, where sunlight spills across the bolts of silk and the city’s bustle hums faintly beyond the shutters. “If you mean to watch the Pale Fountain, you’ll find it busy by the time the bells mark the second hour. Market wagons from the south road come through there, and the inspectors walk their first rounds not long after. Garrick usually appears around then to arrange his morning deliveries. He’ll be looking for anyone who seems to know what they’re about.”

Merienne turns back, meeting each of your gazes in turn — Iromae’s steady, Shenua’s calculating, Vorenus’s watchful. “Observe, but do not invite notice. And should you manage to learn which hands touched that parcel last …” Her smile is thin as silk thread. “… then we may yet have time to reweave what’s been lost.”

She slides the satchel across the counter, its clasp clicking softly against the polished wood. “Go on, then. I’ll keep my ears open here. And if an inspector should come asking after you — well, I’ll say you were only here about a fitting.”

Outside, the sound of morning trade rises: iron-rimmed wheels over cobblestones, hawkers calling the first wares, the faint toll of the city’s first bell echoing from the temple spires.

"I appreciate the description of the silver thread, but I think you missed my actual question," Iromae says to Merienne after she brings Shenua the satchel. "Do you have any here? That I could just look at myself? Although, perhaps the satchel itself might work for my purposes." She looks to Shenua and then Vorenus. Her idea would have to be discussed with the others, and she wasn't sure this was the place to talk. 

"I think your idea is good Shenua. Though if one of us is carrying the bag, I'm afraid of what might happen to them," she says. She again looks to Merienne. "How do the inspectors work? If they find items do they just confiscate them and let the person go? Or do they seize the person as well?"  She then continues talking to the tiefling. "And to be clear, I believe we might watch Garrick, but we'd do better to speak with his associates at the stall by the fountain, since he would be rightfully guarded about talking." 

And at that, she says, "I don't think I have anything else to ask right now. Should we head for the Fountain?" 

Vorenus slips back into character for a moment, looking at Shenua like his star pupil.  “Excellent idea!  Thank you Shenua, that will hopefully lead somewhere in our investigation, we will just have to figure out our approach.”  He turns to Merienne and says “We will be back as soon as we have a better idea of what happened to your shipment.  A question for you.. once someone is attuned to your mirrorcraft.. can they “unattune” - or is it permanent?  We are running a risk performing these tasks without the protection to hide our *ahem* nature.  Anyway, we appreciate your help and we should have some answers soon.”  Vorenus offers his bloody hand for a shake, for blood to imprint on the clothing, or if not taken, he looks for a rag to wipe off his hand and some water to clean it.  

Vorenus nods to Iromae and walks out with them, heading toward the fountain.  “We should head to the fountain, I’m guessing approach from the south and watch how this process is set up, see who stands out as we think of how we will approach.”