| Logs |
2010 October 18
| Neverneverwhere |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Taps Logs |
Strange Spirits
The caravan has settled into the spot to which they were directed with the practiced ease of people used to traveling and working together. Each caravaneer knows by now to have a list of things they need repaired and restocked, ready to be added to the master list. Those that are just passengers or new to the caravan are being shown the ropes by those that have been around a while. The atmosphere is sort of nervously convivial. It's not the first time they've been in a place where they needed to keep things hidden, but it's the first time Roseville has been such a place.
The folks that are running guard-duty are careful not to make it look like guard-duty. They're trying to look inoffensive, and obvious armed guards tend to draw attention both from city officials, and from the less-savory elements of any city. After all, if there are armed guards, there must be something worth stealing. As Dom is collecting the lists for compiling and quietly giving out work assignments to those who don't have something already lined up, Chanticleer is amongst the meandering guards, along with one of the little pack of dogs.
Most of the dogs with the caravan are trained for one thing or another. They seem pretty inoffensive when they aren't actively being asked to be offensive. The one with Chanti is half sheepdog, half-elephant if one goes by the size of him. He trots along, tongue lolling out and happily accepting ear-scratches and pats from all and sundry.
Chanticleer pet's the dog's ruff as he meanders, though he's never gotten entirely used to petting a dog without bending over. Tonnerre is probably one of the friendliest dogs in the pack, but he has a disconcerting habit of leaping onto people, especially those who are threatening, and especially those he sees as friendly. He always gets a slightly bemused look when his targets end up on the ground.
Dominic is like a hub of activity, sending Dan, Billy-Joe, and Franklin, among others, off to get those lists and to take on specific tasks, while consulting with Sabrina for assistance in compiling the needs and jobs, she being one of the best managers of the caravan. To all of his charges he stresses: professionalism. Don't look curious, don't be curious. Do your job, and don't give the townsfolk anything to get on about. Be polite, but don't let them distract you... and for goodness sakes, don't go anywhere with any of them, no matter how friendly they are.
Dominic also stresses, when Sabrina reminds him, that no one go anywhere alone. This is hostile territory, so the buddy system is in effect. As Dom gathers information, he also gathers reports that there has been movement along the edge of shadow outside the camp's various fires. When the news comes to him about potential nosy-parkers, he sends whoever's at hand to whisper it in Poly's ear, in case she's not aware.
Elsewhere, Tonnerre notices something amiss before Chanticleer does and the amiable beast stops his lolloping gait to growl quietly -- well, quietly for him. Chanticleer frowns, looking towards where the dog has his attention; it's useless to try to look nonchalant when such a sizable dog has his attention pointed in that direction. He doesn't move any closer, however, trying to discern what it might be from here. From outside the light cast by the caravan comes a male voice, "That a dog or a bear?"
Chanticleer says wryly, "We think he's a bit of both. Found him batting giant salmon out of a river. What can I do for you, friend?" He keeps his hand on Tonnerre's ruff and holds himself at the ready, his other hand ready to go to his club if need be.
The man that steps out of the shadows is dressed inoffensively enough in loose trousers, boots, and a homespun shirt. His hands are in his pockets and he's got short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair -- heavy on the salt, "Never did much cotton to dogs myself." He tips his head as he studies Chanticleer, "You lot seem to have a little of everything. Got any sort of entertainers?"
Chanticleer realizes Tonnerre is used to humans and most of the more different folk in the caravan -- he's best buddies with Alg, in fact -- so for Tonnerre to growl at someone acting un-suspiciously is cause for being suspicious. Plus, keeping his hands in his pockets is not a friendly gesture. Chanti casually looks around for the next person in the perimeter -- Dom stressed that people on guard duty stay within eyeshot of each other -- and waves to them in a signal. "No, no entertainers," he says easily, turning back to the man. "Just transporting cargo and passengers."
The man stays a good several feet back from Tonnerre, standing relaxedly. The next person along waves back and continues their meandering path until they're out of sight of the stranger and Chanti, and then makes a beeline for Suraksha to let her know what's going on. The man huhs, "Too bad. I was hoping I'd be able to hire someone for a little shindig."
Very shortly thereafter Suraksha comes pacing quietly through the darkness with a torch in one hand, holding her shawl on against the cool night air with the other. Pippa paces in silent wariness with the small woman, her constantly roving gaze searching. Suraksha arrives in time to hear the man's comment, and smiles, her voice calm and cool, "A shindig? What an interesting time of night to come in search of entertainers, good sir."
Dominic lurks somewhere behind Suraksha. After handing things off to Sabrina, he'd gone to tell the Lady about what he'd already made sure was shared with Poly, the captain of the guard... and when Suraksha heads off to check this for herself, he follows in her wake, staying a few steps behind. While he's no sneak thief, you can't be a scout if you have two left feet... and while Chanti and Suraksha handle the talking, he's paying attention to the area around them, make sure this conversation isn't distraction for something else.
Chanticleer relaxes inwardly, but is now even more alert, out of habit. "Allow me to make introductions. Ah... sorry, friend, I didn't get your name?" The code of politesse and manners comes to his rescue here, since it's considered proper to introduce the gentleman to the lady, and fortunately if this man doesn't want to give his name and give up that advantage, Chanti doesn't have to introduce Suraksha to him.
The man inclines his head, "True. I'm just curious by nature. The shindig is for my daughter. She's ten, and I wanted to make sure her birthday party would be respectable. The troupe I had scheduled had to back out due to an... unfortunate difference of opinion." He steps forward, offering his hand, "Jerome Bradley."
Chanticleer knows most townies don't go to carnies for 'respectable' entertainment... and the 'unfortunate difference of opinion' just hits him as fixer-talk -- some sort of polite euphemism which, impolitely, only Mr. Bradley here knows the meaning of. Chanti also knows movement will set Tonnerre up for a direct launch to this guy's shoulders, but he'd rather the dog not do that yet, so he places his hand a bit more firmly upon Tonnerre's ruff.
Suraksha studies the man's chakras silently; they're healthy, for the most part. His Will and Root chakras are both extremely strong in a way that would seem to indicate he's very connected to his physical space and very, very strong in his convictions. He's also quite intelligent, going by his Third-eye and Crown chakras, though not exceptionally spiritual. He also does not seem to be lying concerning his name or his daughter. She smiles politely, extending her hand when she sees Chanti managing Tonnerre, murmuring, "Suraksha Sesha; pleasure to meet you. Are you part of the Roseville governing body, then?"
Dominic doesn't see any suspicious movement around or behind Mr. Bradley, although the dog remains uneasy. The man takes Suraksha's hand and shakes it, a business-like gesture, "Oh, I don't have that felicity. No, no. I'm not the sort to want to run for office. I'm an entrepreneur. I own a little of this, a little of that." Chanticleer has heard that line before. He wonders what Bradley's racket in Roseville is: gambling, booze, drugs? Anything more and the sidhe will be even less comfortable with the man, but 'a little of this, a little of that' tends to cover a multitude of sins.
Suraksha nods silently, stepping back again. The man is still telling the truth, but she's vaguely uncomfortable. Politely she murmurs, "Well, if you're interested in doing business, do please feel free to stop by tomorrow during the day, yes? We can sit down over a cup of tea," her smile gets roguish, "like civilized people." She has no desire to be rousted out of town due to having tangled with the local drug lord equivalent. They've passed often through Roseville, and it disturbs her that she has no memory of this man, as well.
Bradley smiles, still looking amiable and relaxed. His left hand has never left his pocket, "So, there are some entertainers among you? Can't blame you for hedging on that. Things around here are less than welcoming for the less-than-conventional lately."
Suraksha raises an eyebrow, "Gracious, who told you that? No, no, I was referring to legitimate business, such as drayage or protection." Her smile gets innocent, "I'm so sorry if you thought I meant otherwise." Chanticleer is also starting to doubt the entertainment is for the man's daughter's party, nor that it would be particularly 'respectable.' He thinks back to their rather visible entry into the town; did the lightly-dressed distractions really come off as working girls and guys? He's acutely aware one of Jerome's hands is still in his pocket, and the sidhe wishes he had some sort of Tap device detecting sense. Suraksha adds equally innocently, "We should probably depart. I don't want to worry my family, and I doubt your, ah... back-up would be happy if you spent too much time here." She waves vaguely towards the darkness beyond them.
Dominic shifts from foot to foot as he stays in the dark, trying to get used to the dim light and keeping his eyes away from the bright fires. The dog is wary, and just looking at the way Suraksha is standing, it seems that she's not trusting either. He half wants to go get Poly as well, just in case, but stubbornly hates to leave Suraksha's side, just in case she needs him... to send, or to aid. Suraksha smiles sweetly, "Until the morrow then, Mr. Bradley!"
Bradley chuckles and says, "Come to that, perhaps I could use those services as well. Tomorrow, then." He slides his hands into his pockets and turns, walking casually back into the dark. He doesn't bother to deny backup. Dominic snorts, and turns to make his way back to Sabrina -- back to real business, instead of some oily fellow hunting for information. Suraksha stands silently despite her words, handing the torch back to Pippa as she watches the man depart. She and Chanti both can see in the dark, after all, and she's curious as to what the man will do when he thinks he can't be seen. Bradley simply walks casually until he's lost amongst the trees. He seems to have no problem negotiating the forest in the dark. Chanticleer glances to Suraksha. He won't say anything until they're back in the camp itself.
Suraksha sighs softly, relaxing a bit as the man is out of sight. Her lips hardly move at all as she murmurs, "Pippa, you have Fantine. Chanti, high alert, dear. That was... rather peculiar." Pippa and Fantine -- who is in her ball of fire form, floating at the end of the unlit torch stick -- move off to quietly spread the word of the peculiar Mr. Bradley and his odd visit.
Chanticleer make a quiet sound. "That it was," he replies.
Suraksha nods and pats Chanti's arm lightly, "Be wary, dear. Don't hesitate to sing out, all right?" With that she heads on back into the encampment, to get back to sorting out the appropriate business dealings here as swiftly as possible. She quietly tots up the oddnesses in her head, and she shares the information with anyone who asks: the strange man supposedly doesn't get along with dogs, he probably had backup with him, he can apparently see in the dark, he seems to cover the unscrupulous side of the town's business, he kept one hand in his pocket the whole time... but he also has a 10-year-old daughter he feels strongly about. Also, he may turn up tomorrow.
Chanticleer is uncomfortable about the local mobsters approaching them. He says as much to Suraksha the following day. Suraksha nods and quietly agrees. Poly keeps guards on constantly, cycling them to prevent tiredness, and Sura does her best to move business along -- she sends in the wagons with the delivery items early that morning, to drop them off immediately. She asks Dominic to go with them, along with whomever he wants as his buddy, to purchase everything on the caravan's 'needs' list. She herself stays with the caravan, in case the peculiar Mr. Bradley turns up again. Chanticleer remains alert still, especially if Mr. Bradley or anyone introducing himself as one of his 'associates' comes by. He's intent on letting Suraksha know as soon as that happens. Until then he is quite, quite content to not seek out any contact with them!
As Dominic is getting the wagons and labor together for delivery and pickup, as well as purchasing of supplies, he asks Joe to be his second: the other scout likely is more comfortable being the advance man in towns, whether he knows this place well or not. On advice, Dom also asks Joe to carefully feel out some more information on the fellow that came into camp last night... the Bradley fellow. Dominic sets out with the others promptly, peering out at the world from under his big hat: smooth, efficient, get in and out, while Joe does his thing.
In town, Joe turns on his charm and chats with several of the locals while supplies are being procured. He's the sort that tends to make women feel charmingly disarmed and makes men feel relaxed and friendly. They aren't even really aware they're being questioned. Dominic ducks his head, smiling and keeping an eye on Joe as he directs the roustabouts to unload crates and barrels. He chose right, clearly. Absently he wonders how Del is doing, thinking she might feel all cloistered up in this unfriendly environment... but then he focuses back on his work, trotting right up and gruffly handling transactional details with the folks receiving goods.
Del also is gruff and a little grumpy, so she lets Dom handle most of the transactional stuff. Dominic is unsurprised by Del's mood, and tries to be soothing to the sileni, making sure to thank her for her assistance; Suraksha always encouraged positive reinforcement. Joe is all smiles and good humor until they get back to the wagon after the fourth or fifth stop. Then his face goes serious, "No one wants to talk about Bradley. They aren't being blatant about it, but they're changing the subject."
Dominic grimaces at Joe's report. "That's certainly saying something in and of itself, isn't it? You should probably just leave it be... before our interest gets too much attention," he suggests to Joe.
Joe nods and says, "Let's get things wound up and get back home."
Dominic looks wry as he glances at Del. "And get out o' this damn place, so Del can take a good run whenever she wants to," he adds fondly, clapping Joe on the shoulder. "Anything the folk did want to talk about, though? Interesting gossip?"
Joe chuckles a bit, but it's not the chuckle he uses when he's truly amused, "They're feeling a little penned-in, I think. They elected the mayor, but I think they got more than they were wanting."
Dominic shakes his head. "Well, it can't be helped. Goodness knows we're happy to be there for folk that want us... but we're not going to be stirring up trouble for us, just because they don't like the bed they made. Up to them to set it right," he rumbles, geeing the wagon up to go to the next stop.
In the hours not long after sunup, two men halloo the camp. They're dressed respectably in the manner of local merchants. One of them carries an old-style leather messenger bag, the sort used to transport paperwork and other administrivia. The other is older and walks with a cane and a pronounced limp. Suraksha has them politely met and brought to where she has a tarp-topped shelter over a work desk set up out from her wagon, so she can work outside. She smiles as she rises, holding out a hand, "Good morning, gentlemen. I am Suraksha Sesha, caravan lead, and these are Gramma Marcie and Chanti, my assistants. How may we help you?" She knows Sabrina and Sna'tha have kept people in glamour, and there are plenty on guard to spot in-coming individuals, so those who need to be are already out of sight or glamoured.
The older man with the limp smiles and shakes Suraksha's hand, "Marcus Elliott, Miss Sesha. It's a pleasure." He motions to the man with him, "This is Moses, my assistant. I am Mr. Bradley's factor."
Chanticleer is mildly unhappy; that Bradley has people acting this openly in his name means he's a serious cheese in Roseville, if he is involved in the seedy businesses. Suraksha looks very respectable as well with her hair neatly upswept, wearing a long walking skirt, laced boots, and crisp white long-sleeved blouse, as prescribed earlier by Fantine. The small woman offers the men seats and tea, making sure everyone is comfortable before she interestedly inquires, "Indeed? We had a most peculiar visit from Mr. Bradley last night, out of the blue. What precisely does he do, if I may ask?" She sips her tea as she watches the two men, scanning their chakras. She's incredibly relieved both Chanti and Marcie are there to back her up. This is getting more and more strange to her!
The older man smiles, "Mr. Bradley keeps eccentric hours. He likes to say that he prefers the night because there are less distractions. As for what he does, it is almost more a question of what he doesn't. My employer prefers to do business discreetly, however. No Merchant's Guild or Alderman positions. He mentioned you might be amenable to a drayage contract? Though I must say he was rather disappointed he was not able to find replacement entertainment for Diana's party."
Chanticleer thinks if any more euphemisms start getting thrown around he's liable to start making up phrases on the spot! But he lets Suraksha handle the business side of things, even though to him, drayage from Bradley is asking for trouble. Suraksha is slightly puzzled: both men are fairly unremarkable, except they both have very strong Root chakras -- well, that and they're very much connected to the area. She wracks her brains, trying to think what would cause that sort of chakra... isn't Root mostly about sexuality?
Suraksha shakes her head again, mentally correcting herself -- Root is about self-preservation, selfishness, money, food, shelter, physical health. Sort of the 'animal' self, the very base of being alive. She blinks, suddenly wondering if Bradley is trying to get himself and his people out of this town... he might be the reason the town got hostile to outsiders! She frowns thoughtfully. A man who prefers the night. Good heavens. Could he be a vampire? She shivers delicately, feeling increasingly worried about this situation... then shakes her head, "Poor fellow. It is always difficult disappointing children." She has a sip of tea to collect herself, then adds briskly, "Well! Gentlemen, we might indeed be amenable to drayage, depending on what it is. Do you have shipping lists of your goods, and where you want them to be taken?"
Mr. Elliott leans forward, hands resting on the head of his cane as he smiles, "We do. We do..." He gesture to his assistant, who starts taking out sheaves of paper. Suraksha sets her tea aside and leans forward as well, clearing the table a bit for Moses' paperwork. She looks at it thoughtfully -- where does the peculiar Mr. Bradley wish his goods to go, and what are they? She makes sure Gramma Marcie can see the paperwork also, as her bookkeeper. She's relieved again at her backup... this is becoming increasingly uneasy-making.
Mr. Elliott goes on, "Mr. Bradley deals in agriculture, textiles, machinery, and... information. A bit of everything filters through Roseville -- though I'm certain you know that, having traveled through here before. I was certain there were some entertainers amongst your group on those past visits. I confess, it was I that suggested your caravan to my benefactor."
Suraksha glances up thoughtfully at the lawyer, murmuring, "Indeed? How long has Mr. Bradley been in Roseville?" Chanticleer lets Suraksha do the talking, but he doesn't like it when someone of dubious repute is 'certain' of anything. It's usually a veiled reference to what they want to see happen.
Mr. Elliott smiles a benign smile, "Oh, his family has been here since before the dying-off." The lists of goods are, as he said, a little of everything: locally-produced hempen fabrics bound for the desert settlements, some clockwork and engineering supplies bound for Oak Ridge, geegaws and fripperies of various sorts, dried meats and preserved produce. There's a mention of personal correspondence to be delivered here and there, cross-continent.
Suraksha raises a thoughtful eyebrow at the shipping lists -- they're disarmingly normal. She looks up at the factor after handing over the paperwork to Marcie, and picks up her teacup again. Her smile is small and almost confidential as she murmurs, "Really? How nice for him." She has a sip of tea, then adds almost cheerfully, "So, is this list everything that Mr. Bradley wishes to ship with us?" She's watching Elliott's chakras carefully as she asks that question, because she's amused at how adroitly he's dodged directly answering any of her questions.
Mr. Elliott smiles again, "It's a list of current merchandise that we are seeking transport for. If there is any of it you believe you can carry, we would be quite interested in negotiating the prices."
Suraksha smiles again, although this time it does not reach her eyes, "Mm, I see." She glances with an inquiringly raised eyebrow at Marcie and Chanti, looking for their subtle thumbs-up or thumbs-down on this entire situation... she wants to know if she's the only one so... put off by this whole situation. Chanticleer glances to Suraksha, looking neutral -- so far everything seems on the up-and-up, but there's something he doesn't like. If the list seems legit, there's no reason to not carry it...
The factor chuckles, "I can see you're uneasy. I am very sorry if my benefactor worried you last night. Is there something we can do to put your mind at rest?"
Suraksha nods silently to herself as Marcie too looks less than enthusiastic, then turns back to the factor, her voice briskly professional, "Oh, we are simply wary of someone trying to use us again as unwitting pawns to transport illicit goods. One of the symptoms is avoiding direct replies to direct questions, for example." She studies the factor silently for a heartbeat, a small and humorless smile on her face, then continues, "It is possible we may have space for some of the... smaller items on your list. We will, of course, need to see the contents of your shipping boxes before you seal them, and we seal them into our the wagons for the trip." She raises an inquiring eyebrow, "I trust that would be acceptable to you, of course?"
Suraksha also deliberately names a price that is quite a bit higher than usual drayage rates. She's curious just how desperate Mr. Bradley is to move his... goods. She almost cheerfully tacks on that they'll need Mr. Bradley himself to sign the final paperwork as well, of course. Can she expect him later today? Her voice is almost teasing as she adds, "While the sun is still up?"
Mr. Elliott seems quite pleased at the possible contract, "Of course you may inspect the cargo. It is only responsible for a caravan leader to protect her people. I am afraid, however, that if you wish Mr. Bradley to sign the paperwork in person, it will have to be after sunset. As I said, he does keep eccentric hours. As for the price..." He names a lower one, but one that is still above normal drayage rates, "We understand, of course, that you might be leery. Roseville is, after all, a bit on-edge at the moment."
Suraksha raises an amused eyebrow -- it sounds like Mr. Bradley's hurting for transport! She haggles mostly because if they're going to be doing something dangerous, she wants her people to be well paid for it -- so she tries to pull the price back up to the outrageous one she initially stipulated. She also agrees on a time to expect Bradley... and she makes a mental note to have a few tests ready for that worthy. Garlic, silver, maybe some religious symbols... and all her people checked, warded, and carefully using the buddy system.
Mr. Elliott is good at negotiating and haggles with Suraksha. He doesn't try to pull the price down to normal rates, but he does point out they are agreeing to her terms of transport and the goods are benign. He laughs warmly at one point and says, "It isn't as if we're asking you to smuggle."
Chanticleer makes no outward sign at that, instead trusting in Suraksha's ability to somehow divine such things. He hasn't yet come to the suspicion that Bradley is a vampire; give him time. Suraksha smiles humorlessly at Elliott's comment, eyeing his chakras again for truth. She's bleakly amused -- he is indeed not asking her to smuggle. On the other hand, if he's asking her to transport a vampire, that doesn't really count as smuggling, does it? She keeps the price as high as she can drive it.
Elsewhere, Dominic finally returns with Del at his left and Joe at his right, pulling up the wagons emptied of the chartered cargo, now loaded only with the supplies people put together. This was a simple affair: he didn't draw out the bargaining too much when getting supplies, what with not wanting to be away too long, or to make too much trouble with the locals -- not that he's a real Chatty Cathy to begin with. Pulling back up to camp, he leaves Joe in charge of unloading goods, going to report to Ohkwari, since scuttlebutt is that Suraksha is entertaining.
Okhwari, upon hearing Dom's news, says, "We should go talk to Sura. Mr. Bradley's dogsbody is here." In the end, Mr. Elliott agrees to a price about two thirds between his preferred rate and the one Suraksha originally quoted, closer to her end than his, "This is, of course, with the stipulation that further contracts may have renegotiated prices, yes? We wish to earn your trust."
Suraksha smiles sweetly at the factor, "How thoughtful! Trust between trading partners is so helpful -- I quite agree. Of course, direct answers to direct questions goes a long way in initiating trust, I've found." She glances up at the approach of Ohkwari and Dominic, smiling, "Ah. Two of my right hands. A moment, please." To the two men she murmurs, "Yes?"
Mr. Elliott laughs warmly. It's a grandfatherly sort of a laugh, "Forgive me. I am a lawyer by trade, Miss Sesha. Straight answers make me nervous. It is not from a desire to deceive."
Suraksha smiles charmingly at the lawyer, her own voice equally warm, "Of course not; perish the thought!" She looks back at Ohkwari and Dominic for their news.
Dominic spreads his hands. "No trouble in town, Suraksha. Folk are chafing a bit under the mayor's policies, and don't want to speak a whit about Bradley," he says perfunctorily. "We got what we needed." He makes sure to keep his voice down, of course.
Suraksha raises an eyebrow, her words thoughtfully enunciated, "No one wishes to speak about Mr. Bradley? How interesting." She turns back to the lawyer, leaning her chin on her interlaced fingers, "You must be a very brave man, Mr. Elliott, to work for someone everyone else in town is fearful of. What exactly is Mr. Bradley?" Her tilted eyes flash a bit in the sunlight as she smiles serenely at the lawyer... and she's watching his chakras carefully again.
Moses hasn't actually spoken through all of this. His lips thin slightly at Dominic's news. Dominic himself clearly doesn't know everything that came before this, and takes a step back as Suraksha re-enters the fray, armed with knowledge... he looks for someone that's at hand, speaking quietly to get caught up on what this 'Mr. Elliot' is about. Mr. Elliott chuckles, "Ah. A wise woman, doing your homework. Mr. Bradley, as I've said, is an entrepreneur with deep roots in the community. He is not, however, very popular with the current politicos. They find him distasteful."
Suraksha leans back in her chair, holding up a finger... then circling it once in the sign language that says to her people, 'circle and be wary of attack.' "Mr. Elliott, forgive me for my bluntness, but you do not have enough money to convince me to endanger my people. Further, as caravaneers we learn to follow our instincts and the old superstitions for our safety. Your answer is well calculated, I do not doubt, to disperse concern... but I think you know what I am actually asking you. Mr. Bradley does not come out in the daylight, dogs dislike him, he can see in the dark... I will ask once more: what exactly is Mr. Bradley?" She adds softly, "We have transported many... odd things in our time... but we did so knowing precisely what we were doing."
Chanticleer moves to the side as Suraksha speaks with Mr. Elliot rather scathingly, and brings Dominic up to date with the meeting thus far. Ohkwari meanders quietly so he's standing behind the two men. Gramma Marcie has shifted her chair so she has a clear line of sight on them both. Admittedly, she looks like she's half asleep... but her hands are tucked under her apron. Dominic was quietly in-taking Chanti's datum when Suraksha makes her very pointed inquiry, using words like a stiletto, driving quite meaningfully home. That's their fearless leader for you.
Mr. Elliott smiles again and nods, "Astute. You suspect him of being a sinister creature. We dislike using the old terms for his kind, because they cause such a panic. But you are right to suspect he is not human."
Suraksha waits patiently for the complete answer, her expression calmly inquiring. Dominic is very interested in hearing what happens next, folding his arms across his chest. Chanticleer fades back behind a wagon, where he can both see and not be seen -- and call for more help if necessary. Suraksha adds with thoughtful amusement, "Once you have informed me as to what precisely Mr. Bradley is, I find myself now also curious as to who or what precisely this 'we' you speak of is... that dislikes using the 'old terms.'"
Mr. Elliott continues, "I trust we can speak frankly here and not have the news spread out to the entire caravan? I respect your urge to protect your people, but I would be a poor factor if I did not protect my benefactor."
Suraksha glances around at Ohkwari, Gramma Marcie, and Dominic, then turns back to the factor and says bluntly, "I trust these people with my life on a near-daily basis."
Mr. Elliott nods, "We are his retainers: the people that work for him and enjoy his largesse. The terms that used to be used are things such as vampire. Wendigo. Asanbosam. Loogaroo. One who takes his bodily nourishment from the living bodies of others. The old stories are frightening and melodramatic. Our Mr. Bradley does not creep in on sleeping maidens and drain away their lives."
Suraksha taps her fingertips together thoughtfully as she murmurs, "Actually, those are all variants on a theme, so to speak. Which precisely is Mr. Bradley, please?" Dominic's head tilts at Mr. Elliot's words, his hackles raising. He can't help but not like this one bit.
Mr. Elliott smiles, "He is a manitou, a spirit of night and hunger. His lineage has integrated several different backgrounds. Roseville is, in a very real way, his town. Mr. Bradley has worked quite diligently to keep Roseville healthy and thriving. It is starting, however, to become hostile."
Suraksha murmurs softly, "I am not surprised. Humans have a fine sense of self preservation, given enough time to register the oddities." She's silent for a long moment, considering Elliott's chakras as well as the wisest thing to do next. Finally she says slowly, "All right. Tell me why your Mr. Bradley is different, then, please."
Mr. Elliott smiles, "Mr. Bradley is not a ravener, as some of his kind can be. He is a Manitou, not a Wendigo. His hunger is not for human flesh. He is more closely related to the vampire -- blood, Miss Sesha. But he takes only as much as he needs to stay healthy, and never from the same donor in a week. Manitou are tied to their homes very strongly."
Suraksha tilts her head thoughtfully, her soft voice warning, "He stays in one place? Surely he realizes how... destructive normal humans can be when they are frightened enough, yes?"
Mr. Elliott says, "Indeed he does, Miss Sesha, which is why he keeps his head low. Those that benefit from him wish not to speak of him because it would draw attention. The men who have gained power here see Roseville as a gateway and a point of purification, with themselves as arbiters and gatekeepers."
Suraksha raises an eyebrow, "A... 'point of purification'? That sounds... ominous. What does their supposed gateway lead to, pray tell?"
Mr. Elliott says, "The rest of the continent."
Suraksha looks perplexed, "So... do they benefit from Mr. Bradley, or seek to clear him out?" Dominic's brow wrinkles as he looks between the two, pondering what has been revealed and doing his best to follow what is going on.
Mr. Elliott's smile is tired and perhaps a bit sad, "They are not aware of him. Yet. But they are working to bring the city into line with their thoughts and mores. If they dig, they will find him."
Suraksha nods slowly, her expression starting to slip into silent sympathy, "He is resolute about not leaving, then?"
Mr. Elliott says, "I have said: this is his city. His people have been here for time beyond remembering. This fanaticism is simply the latest wave." Moses is starting to put together the papers and stash them again as the old man rises to his feet, "Many avenues once open have been shut by people who no longer wish to travel through a city of seeming Puritans. We wish to reopen them, with your assistance. The last thing Mr. Bradley wants is for this city to die."
Suraksha nods silently, her expression thoughtful. She finally murmurs, "Very well. We will tentatively be willing to transport Mr. Bradley's goods." She studies the two men consideringly, then adds, "I should like to speak to Mr. Bradley when he arrives tonight to sign the paperwork, however. Will he be amenable to that?"
Mr. Elliott smiles again, "Of a certainty." He offers his hand, "Miss Sesha, it has been a pleasure."
Dominic clears his throat then, and when Suraksha looks at him he makes a gesture to imply he has a question for Mr. Elliott. Suraksha rises and shakes hands with the lawyer, nodding once. She smiles at Dominic, but lets Elliott field the question. When she gives her assent, the young man looks at Mr. Elliott. "Forgive my curiosity, but...you speak of 'reopening avenues' with 'our assistance.' Might I be so bold t' ask how shipping goods will do that? Seems rather... pedestrian, given your situation."
Mr. Elliott says, "That is what a factor is for, sir: taking care of the pedestrian. Think of an entrepreneurial empire as a body. The entrepreneur is the brain; the people involved, its heart. The roadways and rivers over which its goods travel are the blood. You cut off the blood, you kill the organism."
Suraksha adds quietly, "Trade also broadens perspective, Dominic."
Dominic purses his lips. "I get the metaphor well enough, sir." he says agreeably. "Guess I just didn't think simple exchange of goods for capital would make a difference for what you need... but being you're the brains, I 'spect you know what you're doing," he rumbles, nodding thoughtfully at Sura's words.
Mr. Elliott smiles his grandfatherly smile at Dom, "No, I am a simple neuron. I only carry the ideas; I do not originate them."
Suraksha adds quietly to Dominic, "It is not him paying us to move something that is important. It is that Roseville is still remembered as a place to trade with, to visit, to travel through... that is remembered as being alive, rather than closed and dead to the world."
Mr. Elliott nods and says, "Ladies, gentlemen. We will see you at the appointed time. Will little Diana be welcome?"
Suraksha smiles thoughtfully, then nods, "Yes, she will be." Her smile widens a bit mischievously as she adds, "We might -- might -- be able to rustle up a tiny bit of entertainment, in fact, for her... while I speak with her father, perhaps?"
Mr. Elliott beams, "Diana will very much enjoy that, I'm certain. She is an enthusiastic child. Until tonight. We look forward to it," and then he and his assistant leave as unobtrusively as they arrived.
Suraksha laughs softly at that, and waves as the men leave. Once they're gone she sits in her chair with a slightly exasperated 'pouf!' Her voice is wry, "Why do men always feel they must hide themselves so with words?!"
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