#rescuemiriam

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The Storm and her Mountain take the tour of Thyle, at least part of it. Brekke having seen it before knows some things better . She can easily point out the festhall, though if she wants to go there again, that's another matter.

"We should look about their market, see what foodstuffs we can obtain there, and what they will take in trade."

Frank nods agreement. "Our guest swam over, climbed up." He says softly, for her ears and only when there are no others around. "Got into a barrel. I happened to see it. After I heard from Nyles, I thought it best to keep her.... around."

The market is not hard to find, for like many a market, it is lively with the sounds of sales and yes, gossip. Trolls aren't boggans. But every kith chatters a bit. With trolls it's more guarded, but it's there.

She listens and shakes her head. "We must be cautious. There is a risk in taking her aboard, and with the others we seek to liberate. We must hope that they carry with them means of contributing to our larger endeavor."

He nods. "A source of information, perhaps."

"Yes. Or extra resources in a fight."

"Fighting for two." Not without amusement.

"Mm." Brekke nods, then goes to a merchant who seems to be selling dried foods and inquires about prices.

"You're wise! Salted Lutefish gets a bad rep, but pickled and salted lasts for quite awhile, I also have smoked Lutetish, and yes, Lutefish jerky!" The merchant says, "For a reasonable price it can be yours..."

"We are not from these lands. What do you take as payment?"

"Bit of dross, or perhaps if you have some ale or wine from a land that is not known to us in trade?"

She nods. "We have little on us now, but will be back." She draws Frank away. "I hope they have more than lutefisk. It is fine as far as it goes, but I do not care for it as much as some."

She has never seen him more relieved in recent memory. "Oh. Ok. Yes, let's keep shopping."

They move to one area where a male satyr is singing , apparently to advertise a lady's mutton Products "Mutton comes from Mutton.... Mutton, it's soo good! So maybe for yourself, or childlings... you ought to buy Beheldi's muttons... soo good!" mmmms. A hard working butcher chops mutton up iin front of folks, less glamourous (in the non fae sense) then the song would idicate. that cleaver is huge.

"Hmm." Somewhere between puzzled and disturbed.

A bemused look at the satyr's lyric, and then a second glance as the disturbing juxtaposition of the advertiser and the products sinks in.

The she troll looks over at Brekke, then Frank, then Brekke again, "Where you put your charity is your business, and I'll sell you good mutton for a fair price, but I won't sell or talk to him. "

Frank nods and fades back.

Brekke's expression darkens. "What you put in your mouth is your business, but what comes out of it may lose you potential customers."

"I do fine, stranger. Go get some Lutefish if you prefer," She shrugs.

And WhACKS another section of mutton. Other is grilling deliciously

Frank is looking over some canvas and hemp-rope goods at another stall.

The satyr continues to sing. "that lady troll's making a darn fine meal there. That lady troll she's a butcher extradinaior! Honey glazed Mutton, or maybe spicy!' (With apologies to Dire Straits)

She turns and goes to speak quietly with Frank. "This is an error. Clem is the one with a head for bargaining, not I. She should be in charge of resupply." Her voice is tight, and Frank knows the signs of her temper rising.

"It is not an insult to you." Calmly. "If you'd like to leave, let's. I would not mind walking on the shore with you."

"It is an insult to you, and that is enough for me to feel it." She grumbles.

A boggan fellow, a grump, calls out, "Not finding things to your liking good folks? As a boggan, I'm a hearth. And I do commissions on food " The man's eyes sparkle lively. And he leans on a cane of oakwood

Frank fades back just a step again, ceding to Brekke if she wishes to try this fellow.

Brekke glances at Frank, then holds back a pessimistic sigh as they approach the boggan. "What do you have, then?"

"Oh, just food" A lie? "But I mean to do you some good . " Truth? "Care to follow me?"

Frank has remained aware of the exchange while affecting a distant focus... which now sharpens. He glances to Brekke, and nods.

An eyebrow, but she nods, and follows where the boggan leads.

THe boggan moves on , leading them to a small cabin that is near a smith's place...the hammering means not much heard here will be heard elsewhere, and then says "Begging your pardon, but would it be too much to assume the two of you serve sidhe houses and thus, indirectly, sidhe nobles?"

Brekke folds her arms and looks down at him. "That is true. Our ways are different than yours, as is our world."

"And you are titled in the sidhe way?"

If he's going to cry out for help, he's picked a bad place for it. The hammers mean the scream itself might get lost

A frown. "Again, true, though I am also Chieftain and Storm of our Lodge, and he is Mountain," referring to Frank. "What are you getting at?"

He bows low, "Herbert Milton Farnworthy, spy for House Gwydion. And unless your plans conflict with my tasks here, your humble servant."

It's a trained bow. Would do fine in court.

And yes, true!

Frank blinks with surprise.

"A...spy?" Her blink matches Frank's. "From Concordia? Who of the house has sent you here, and for what task?"

"Please forgive, , but I would be a poor servant if I were to say who sent me. If either of you ended up comprimised by cantrip or the like, it would increase the odds of them finding out. As for what task? Well, you've seen yourself what happens to sidhe here. They are made to forget themselves with magic thrall collars, they are used as slaves . I am here to free a member of House Gwydion. Not easily done."

"And yes, from Concordia"

A slow nod. "I see. Which is the Gwydion sidhe? Have you located him or her?"

"Yes. Alas, she's in one of the more public places. It's not a bauble I can pluck lightly" A sigh

A curious look. "Have there been others you have...plucked?"

"No," Embarrassed to say. "I should have. But I was worried I'd only be able to pluck once, and... I wanted the one I said I'd get."