Branson

"-see how she totters, see how she tumbles.
And see how she's rolling, all upon the salt wat-ah!"
Ameren frowned as her voice cracked and then cleared her throat. 

There was a muted thud, and another a few seconds later, followed by a crash coming from somewhere in the building. 
That will be Connwear and the savages making their entrance. More than enough to draw attention to themselves.

I swear, he keeps locking this only to amuse himself...
As if working a lock while crouching on a very narrow stone sill fifteen metres up in the air wasn't difficult enough on its own, the rain was getting heavier and a distant rumble announced that it was turning into a lightning storm. 

"Lady Maerion, it is a privilege to meet you at last, and to welcome you to our fair city."

It wasn't all that different from watching a mother nip and tuck at her daughters before taking them to be paraded in front of a host of suitors, standing in that store while the tailor and Lord Denien spoke of different fabrics and cuts, the two brothers propped in front of full length mirrors wearing half-finished jackets with various patches of cloth being attached and removed as new ideas were suggested and old discarded. 

How in the blazes are we going to pull this off?

"Branson! I'm delighted to see you again, my most timely rescuer. I hope you didn't get lost this time?"
"No, this place was easy enough to find in the daylight."
"I'm glad. Sit, sit. My father will join us shortly."

This is proving to be fruitless.
The evening spent at the dockside tavern hadn't yielded anything of use, much like the day following Havaldr around while he dealt with his merchant's business. Only rumours and gossip of little value, a captain's unfaithful wife, the threat of corsairs looming closer to the city, fishermen's tall tales, the drunken boasting of thugs and lowlifes. 
And no lead on this Mendel fellow either.

"Home .."