Back on the beat, Alton and Cook head yet again to Thirsty Pilgrim, where they’ve been told Oddvald Krag has yet another tiny bit of information to give them. Inside, a ratkin in a hood that may or may not be the same ratkin they spotted earlier has stabbed an honest to Theria plain old rat on a wicked little knife. Gus Hoyt is in mid sentence talking her out of trying to roast it in the illusionary fire.

“Every time I’m here there’s violence,” Cook remarks as he settles down on a bench beside Krag, “I don’t suppose this is the most common type?”

“Nah,” Krag remarks, sipping a brew with calm resolve. “You just have the most spectacular timing.”

“What’s her story?” Alton asks, indicating the ratkin.

“As you know, I’m a fan of names.” Krag grins. “That one’s Helen Emerald. Girl’s seen better days - didn’t used to be swimming so far out at sea if you catch my meaning. She does have a thing for the adventuring type, which isn’t too far off from why I called you over.”

Alton recognizes Trageser when he enters the bar and sighs deeply. She chooses to ignore him when he approaches the table. For once, the young detective either takes a hint or assumes she didn’t notice and chooses to deliberately overhear their conversation instead. He slides up to the bar and takes a seat just within range of their conversation.

“So what was that?” Cook asks, unaware of the spy.

“I have another name for you. Hendry Wymark.”

“And who’s that?” Cook demands, acknowledging the uselessness of a single name.

“He’s the rough customer that your headless kid was last spotted with. For certain, if he’s not the one who did her in himself, then he’s the one who saw her last.”

“Now this,” Cook slides a mithril coin across the table, “this is actually helpful information.”

“I can do better if you can give us a way to find this Wymark.” Alton attempts Cook’s eyebrow trick, but fails miserably. She manages to look vaguely surprised.

“I don’t know too terribly much about the guy. Just a name and a face.”

“Do you think you could describe the face to a seer?” Cook offers a suggestion. There’s a sorcerer on staff that can pluck a face from a mind and draw it accurately. Cook’s always acknowledged that this was only partly done with magic, seeing as no other sketch artist in the force combines their talents this way.

“I can.” Krag winks suggestively.

“Will you,” Alton asks. There’s a pause before she adds, “please?”

“For that, I’ll do anything!” the adventurer laughs.

Alton watches as Trageser scoots out of his seat and heads for the door. With any luck, he’ll have arranged for the artist sorcerer to be ready to take Krag’s image.

“This is a good start, but we’ve been coming back here so much that our captain might start thinking one of us has a drinking problem.” Cook gives a mighty glare. “Seems like we might even find better information from Cosimo than you’re giving, and his comes so easily.”

“Might be nothing,” Krag shrugs, “but your victim was also spotted with that very special kin-eater right over there. There’s a theory that they’re roommates.”

“How solid of a theory might that be?” Cook taps the coin.

“Solid enough that you might consider following her when she leaves.” Krag gives a meaningful glance over to where Gus has pulled Emerald away from the false fire and is now working on pointing her long whiskered nose toward the door.

“Spit it out.” Cook snaps. “Where do you expect her to head?”

“There’s a place in the necropolis called the Bellemare Crypt.” Krag looks surprised, and a bit offended. “I’m told there’s vamps in them there hills, and the dead girl was spotted with them.”

“Now that’s a handy bit.” Cook stacks another mithril coin on the table, and follows it with one rare silver. Since trade with the Allied Lycan Tribes became so common, silver coins have swiftly left circulation. They’re used nigh exclusively for mainland trade.

“If you’ve got anything specific to tell us,” Alton says while standing, “you know where to find us. We’re not going to come back here for something you could have said in our office.”

When Gus finally wrangles the grouchy ratkin through the door, Alton and Cook are hot on her heels.