((Kimmy- you were put in prison, right? Correct me if I get something wrong here.))Lord Tolan shook his head slightly, fighting down a grin at the exuberance of his last interviewee while surreptitiously checking his pockets to make sure everything that he remembered being in them was indeed still there. A kender. Or at least part kender, but either way, he figured he'd better lock her up until such time as he could ascertain what, if anything, had made its way into her posession.
Weren't there three silver coins in my pocket this morning?
Tolan forgot about his searching and looked up when he heard more people coming down the stairs. Just how many more of them were there? he wondered vaguely.
"And who is this?" he asked as Iris was escorted down the stairs.
"A minstrel, sir," the guard Talmar said. "Another of the Outworlders. She played at the masquerade, so we know she's with them. This is her lute."
Tolan took the instrument from the guard, fully suspecting that it was, in reality, the weapon that Dungeon Master would have given her. "I see," he said while examining the instrument carefully. It was fine, exquisite craftsmanship, carved of a beautiful, golden wood. Tolan had to admit, since giving up his days adventuring, he had learned a deeper appreciation for things of such loveliness. He turned it carefully in his hands with great interest. "Well, my dear, I am the bearer of bad news, it seems. As you may have heard, several murders were committed by a friend of yours. We are trying to get to the bottom of this, and in the mean time, I must have all Outworlders placed in custody for your own protection-" he stopped with a slight gasp. No- it couldn't be. Could it? He had suddenly recognized the inlaid symbol on the soundbox of the lute, an aspen leaf with a star on it. The tuning pegs were carved into that shape. Quickly, but not making it look so, he examined some of the rainbow-hued runes decorating it but found they were in a language that he was a little too rusty at to read.
But he remembered the stories his great-great grandfather had told him when he was a child. Assuming the old man (really not even middle-aged for an elf) hadn't been full of it, then Tolan had a pretty good idea what he was holding. There was no mistaking that symbol. He knew he could never take this lovely instrument away from the minstrel. Quite literally.
"...But as you are not yet accused prisoners," he continued with admirable smoothness, all things considered, "I cannot see denying you and your companions the pleasure of a little music to alleviate your boredom. Here you are." He very formally handed the instrument back to Iris, then acknowledged the guard's slight frown by adding, "However, I can only return this to you on the condition that you do not remove the strings and try to garrote your guards with them." To Talmar, he said, "Now put her in a cell, please."
As Iris was escorted off, Tolan gritted his teeth and waited for the shout that someone had finally discovered the original prisoners' escape. But it never happened. Nothing came from the dungeon except...Echlar?
The old wizard, for some reason, was emerging from the dungeon with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Walking up to the Councillor, he leaned over and whispered something while glancing conspiratorially back towards the cells. Tolan's eyes widened in surprise and amusement as he listened. "You didn't!"
Echlar grinned. "I may not be nearly as practiced, but Mistress Varla isn't the only one who can cast illusions," he concluded.
"Echlar, my friend, you-" Tolan stopped suddenly as he heard more people coming down the stairs. "Another one?" he sighed.
((Tommy, I believe this might be you?))
