The two men standing off to one side are paying very close attention. One of them Eli would recognise, most definitely - it’s hard not to be familiar with anybody who’s carried you off like a particularly majestic pudding, and this man’s strength was used not too long ago to get Eli to a surgeon.
Hector folds his arms. “We’re on loan to you,” he tells Eli bluntly. “Boss said so. Guess that makes you the new boss until this is over.”
“Excellent. We are brainstorming right now. Any suggestions?”
“Disgrace 'em.” It’s the smaller man speaking, the one with the weaselly cast to his features. “But careful-like. Get ‘em caught up in crime, and known for it. Harder to suck the Bazaar’s **** when yer own neddy friends are after ye fer stealin’ an’ th’like. They want ter support th’Bazaar? See how much they want it when the Bazaar ain’t supportin’ 'em back.”
“I have a newspaper that can print the stories, we just need evidence. How shall we lure them in? Perhaps set up a target for robbery?”
“Bein’ part of holdin’ stolen goods,” Lyle, the weaselly man, says. “Don’t matter then if they got alibis fer where they been all day - ain’t accusin’ ‘em of stealin’, but of gettin’ the results. Get somethin’ filched and real distinctive into where they live, tip off the keenest neddy or constable ye know, the one as will charge right in ter make ‘is name catchin’ sommat, and he’ll find the flash and make a big stink over them havin’ it.”
“Next question. What’s the worst contraband for them to be got with. Sunlight, street signs, or something to excite moral sensibilities of the crowd?”
Eli shakes the hands of both men. “I won’t let you down, comrades.”
“As for framing the agents, they’ve been given a black seal and a blank cheque by the Bazaar. I doubt Iron would let them get caught and I doubt even more that Pages would take it to the court rooms.”
Ezekiel growls. “Complete and utter diplomatic immunity. Living the dream…”
“Is that a literal black seal? Just asking in case we could steal it.”
“Black seal?” Ezekiel asks astonished. “How can do combat with fat zee creature?”
“Wha- No. Like the thing you put on paper… And it’s metaphorical, not physical. I… Hm.” Eli takes a moment to think, urchins and rubbery couriers flowing through the room like an assembly line. Things are already heating up.
“Don’t need ter got ter court,” Lyle points out, grinning. “Just got ter get their friends lookin’ sideways at 'em. How quick’ll people be ter support ‘em if the rumour goes round they’re just as crooked as any? And their high muckety-muck friends’ll be leery of helpin’ ‘em, if it’s thought they’re stealin’ from rich allies.”
“Or bring down the wrath of some of the neutral sides. They may have a free pass from the bazaar, but not from the Widow or the Duchess.”
“So, in simpler terms, erode their alliances and tighten the screws on their rivalries?” Eli verifies, interested.
“Widow and Duchess in particular could offer good support to These Ones.”
Lyle nods. “Their allies don’t trust 'em? Better for us. The people as matter don’t like 'em? Even better again.”
“Cruelty,” Hector says suddenly. “If any go too far, make it known. They can’t play heroes if everyone’s talking about what they’ve done - and got away with.” He smiles grimly. “People’ll hate them even more for being above arrest, no matter what they do.”
“Cruelty is just a means, the ends shouldn’t be more cruelty.” Ezekiel blubbers sagely to no-one in particular.
"New development. A local street artist going by the name Zara Hysaro, or something such, seems to be attempting a fundraiser of some sorts, but there is something wrong.
She is targeting areas under our jurisdiction primarily and getting the ears of the Church and Great Game, both people who seem to favor the Bazaar. We need to investigate what is going on there without drawing too much attention to ourselves. We don’t know that this is in any way malign."
“Let’s see, there is me, Flesh-stick, the two smartest guys in the room over there, and Maria.”
“We are not an inconspicuous bunch.”
Flesh-Stick: I COULD WEAR SUNGLASSES
“What are sunglasses?” Eli asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Flesh-Stick: THEY’RE LIKE THE GLASSES YOU WEAR TO HIDE YOUR EYES. A PERFECT DISGUISE IF YOU PAIR 'EM WITH A FAKE MUSTACHE AND A HAT OR SOMETHING. MAYBE A SOMBRERO!
realizes he’s only making a fool of himself
OKAY, I’M GONNA SHUT UP NOW. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU NEED ME TO SMASH SOMETHING.
“That sounds pretty useful actually. Sadly, I think I would need more then sunglasses.”
One of the harried urchin messengers drops off a small nondesript parcel - a glorified envelope, really - at Eli’s table.
The package contains three items. The first is a small wooden chess piece, a black rook. The second is a candle that smells faintly of lilacs. The third is a note printed on a typewriter: "TO BE LIT IN DARKNESS IN FRONT OF A MIRROR".