The first step was not, as Ten had anticipated, avoiding being harassed by the guard while on their way there, but avoiding the chambermaids as they snuck into the private wing of the estate and went through Isolde's wardrobe to find something to make Lelianna look like someone who might plausibly have a lady's maid accompany her to whatever unsavory business a lady might have at a place like the Pearl. Ten managed to shimmy into the simple shift and secure her hair under a silk bonnet. She also got a taste of exactly how obnoxious a noblewoman's routine must be as the two of them struggled, but managed to get the sister out of her robes and into petticoats, kirtle, and gown. With her short hair disguised under a lace veil, she looked… passable. Looking at herself in the flawless and likely quite expensive mirror, Lelianna sighed and made a face.

"I hope we are not in for a fight," she said, "I am useless in this get up."

"No fights," said Ten, "I promise." She was grateful that the flowing sleeves of the cotton shift left her plenty of room to maneuver and the full skirts disguised the arsenal strapped to her thighs.

The get-up was, apparently, convincing enough that not a single guard said a single thing as they made their way south into the Antivan quarter,and to the conspicuously inconspicuous house they called the Pearl. Ten knocked on the door, the slot opened, and there was, much like the last time, Dima Syasko waiting to take their coin.

"Still breathing I see, Arlessa," he exclaimed, "Why are you dressed like that?"

"I've come up in the world," Ten said, fiddling with the strings of her bonnet uncomfortably, "My friend and I were hoping to have a drink. And I was hoping to speak with some of the staff." She stepped aside, revealing Lelianna, who was scratching at her hairline where the lace must have been terribly itchy.

"Well there's a first," said Dima, chuckling, "Your friend looks like she can afford it. Staff's booked up at the moment, but surely one of them could work you in if you stay long enough. And buy enough drinks, of course."

The slot slid closed, there was a clunk as the bolt was thrown, and the door swung open and Ten was awash in a wave of cheap perfume and sweat.

The last time Ten had been inside the front bar room at the Pearl, it had been to tend to Miral Sharhani, a fairly well known elfin courtesan, who had locked herself in one of the bedrooms and refused to come out until Ten came and personally assured her that the john who was beating her had been taken care of. Taken care of, of course, meant that he'd been handed over to a couple of Don Cangrejo's goons for a once-over. The previous time was when Soris's employer had invited him to his stag party and Teneira had gone along as his guest, dressed as a man, of course, for shits and giggles, and learned far more than she'd ever wanted to about the ways men talked to each other when they thought women could not hear. And, of course, a few times just to shoot the shit in the back rooms. Now, though, feeling bold, she bellied up, planted her ass in a barstool. Lelianna, with some difficulty, did the same, and purchased a moderately priced bottle of Antivan white, which neither found too offensive.

It being a work day in a district where mostly respectable people lived and did their weekday drinking at home, the bar did not fill up. A handful of Tevinter sailors came in, wanting services for the evening, and were walked by a dwarf and human, neither of whom Ten recognized, to the rooms in the back where the creatures of the night plied their trade. A rowdy group of guardsmen were next, but they just wanted to get drunk and sing stupid songs and, thankfully, left the two women alone to gossip.

Right in the middle of a very tense story about a riot that had happened three years before, the two of them were approached by a very handsome stranger. He waited politely for the story to be over - something Ten was not used to men doing. Usually when a man approached a group of women at a bar, he would burst in on the conversation like they ought to be grateful for his attention. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was dark-complexioned, human, and very well dressed. Professional, she thought, there's only one reason a man would be so polite. She watched him in her peripheral vision as she finished the story and answered a couple of questions Lelianna asked.

When there was a pause in the conversation, then he cut in.

"May I ask what two beautiful ladies such as yourselves are doing drinking alone 'ere tonight?" he asked, thrusting himself between them, "And if I may 'ave a seat wis' you?" His teeth were very white, his accent Orlesian, authentic, but more pronounced than Lelianna's. Almost exaggerated.

"We don't appear to be alone here anymore," Lelianna replied, "What part of Orlais are you from?"

"Little village at ze foot of ze montagne, near Emprise du Lion, you 'ave never been zere, I assure you, ma belle," he replied. He didn't wait to be invited, but pulled up a chair between them and seated himself at it, "I 'ope you beautiful ladies are 'aving a wonderful time at ze Pearl tonight, yes?" It was strange, though as between them, Lelianna certainly looked like she had the coin to be at such a place, he certainly seemed to be speaking to Ten.

"I am," Lelianna said, "But this wine, it moves right through me. I will visit the privy. Would you like to come, Ten?"

"I don't have to go," Teneira replied. There was something very familiar about this young man. She could not quite place him, but she thought if she kept him talking it might come to her.

"I will be back soon, then," Lelianna replied, raising her eyebrows to add, if you need rescuing.

The stranger's eyes followed Lelianna's backside outside the door towards the privies.

"All right, here it is," the stranger said as soon as the sister had gone, grabbing Ten's wrist. His voice had changed all of a sudden, his accent gone and his speech taking on the familiar cadence of a working class Denerim stiff, "You're going to very obviously negotiate a price to take me to one of the back rooms. We're going to lock the door. And then I'm going to tell you something you really need to know."

"Who might you be?" she asked, "And who exactly do you think I am?"

"We all know who you are, Arlessa," he said, the accent creeping back into his voice, "Maid's uniform or not. As for me, in 'ere, I am an exotic Orlesian 'ooker by ze name of Jacques leCoq. But… elsewhere you might find me if you asked for one Airon Villais."

"Oh, Maker, you're…" she said. She realized she had never actually laid eyes on Anton's upstairs neighbor, only their raging mother.

"I am Jacques leCoq," he said again, "An' I 'ave most reasonable hourly rates, though most ladies prefer to have me ze 'ole night. What is your name, ma petite?"

"Well you clearly know who I am," she said, her heart in her mouth. What could he have to tell me? Of course it has to do with Anton, what else would it mean?

"Just play the fuck along. I could lose everything if I'm caught at this," Airon hissed, the accent gone again.

"Oh, I don't think you need to know that," she said, coyly. Her posture changed instantly. She leaned languidly on the table, her fingertips tracing the rim of her wine glass, "After all, this is your… business, yes?"

"Ah, you wound me, ma petite," he said, a hand over his heart, "I shall call you Avelline, for you 'ave the 'eart of a chevalier, the face of a fairy-tale princesse, and the body of…"

"Teneira," she said, grimacing, "My name is Teneira, just… fucking call me that. Enough with this shit. I have like four sovereigns to my name right now." This was, of course, a lie, but damned if she was going to pay through the nose for a hooker she had no intention of bedding and who seemed desperate to get in touch with her.

"Ah, but what I 'ave for you is worth… so much more," he said.

"I told you, I don't have it," she said, lowering her voice, "Just tell me what you want to tell me and be done with it."

"Four sovereigns it is," he said, magnanimously. She made a show of handing him the money so anybody at the bar would see what was going on, and he led her to the back rooms, just in time for Lelianna to return, her eyes wide and one hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Whatever it was this Jacques leCoq had to tell her, she was sure she would be passing on despite any assurances otherwise, but if this was what he required to feel safe enough to just come out with whatever sordid information of which he was in possession, this was what it required.

In the back, in a room ostentatiously decorated with a canopied bed and fainting couch in front of a roaring fire, Teneira shut the door and threw the deadbolt, then turned her back to the door, and faced Jacques… or Airon… whatever.

"All right," he said, once the bolt had hit home, "Look, you can have your money back, it's just a show. You want a drink? On the house, I've had a good week."

Without her assent, he uncorked a bottle of Antivan red from the fine oaken bar in the corner and filled two gaudy silver goblets. She saw, as he went to recork the bottle, that his hands were shaking. He downed half a glass in one go, and gestured for her to sit down on the couch.

"What is it that is so important and so secret that it can only be divulged behind locked doors in a house of ill repute?" she asked, but she took one goblet and took a sip. It was deep and dank, much better than whatever Fereldan swill the bartender kept for ordinary patrons of the bar.

"My brother's gone missing," he said.

"Your brother?"

"You know my brother. Anton."

"Yes I know Anton," she said.

"Well there's a relief, because he sure knows you," Airon said, "Hasn't kept your name from his mouth since the first day he walked into the Alienage. Even after all that… unpleasantness with the arl. I'm… uh… I'm sorry that all happened. Hell of a thing."

"Thank you, I guess," she said, "How long has he been missing?"

"At least a week," he said, "At first we thought he was just working extra shifts, but when he missed breakfast at Maman's and didn't answer the door when she was all but beating it down, I used my key to his flat, and it hadn't been touched in days. I went to the guard, they said they had no record of him."

"No record?" Teneira responded, confused, "He was a lieutenant. Promoted not two months ago He's been on the force for years. What do you mean, no record?"

"I mean, it's like he never existed to them," Airon responded, "Nobody at the barracks admitted to knowing who he was. His name wasn't on the patrol schedule or any of the books. They're lying, I know they must be. I spoke to one of the men from his patrol… old timer…"

"Kennit Maycomb?" Teneira asked.

"Aye, that's him," he said, "I tracked him down at the Paloma, he was three sheets to the wind in the middle of the afternoon, I suppose he plans to drink his pension until it kills him. He told me I needed to stop asking questions, my brother was gone."

"That doesn't sound like Kennit," Ten mused, "He's old, but he's not a monster. He'd have told you if he knew."

"He wasn't being cruel. The man was terrified," said Airon, finishing his wine, and pouring another glass.

"What about the other men on the alienage beat? Machias Colm's the other geezer. And Jochrim Stillpass, he's my age. Did you speak with them?"

"Colm retired," Airon replied, "Apparently took off to Hossberg to live with a niece or some shit. Stillpass was transferred to the queen's personal guard. Step up in the world for him. They all left the force abruptly about a week ago. Then there were the two he hired, both of them transferred to the Arl of Denerim's estate."

"So everyone he works with gets a promotion or retires," said Ten, "And there's neither hide nor hair of the man? You don't suppose someone figured out… you know." She pulled one of her own earlobes for emphasis.

"I can't imagine what else could have happened. I can wrap my head around drumming him out of the barracks, disavowing any knowledge of him, I get that. I warned him that might happen back when he joined up, but he was a kid, he didn't believe me," Airon said, "But when that happens the disgraced guard gets to turn in his uniform and leave the city, unless they convict him of something."

"And what would you be doing if I hadn't wandered into your particular house of ill repute?"

"Everyone wanders through the Pearl eventually," he said, "And given everything Anton said about you, you wouldn't stay away from Denerim too long."

"You think I can get in there, figure out what's going on?"

"You're a ghost in this town," said Airon, "You can do whatever the fuck you want."

"And you think I want to find your brother," Ten said.

"I think you do," said Airon.

"Really," said Ten, "And why's that?"

"He's my favorite, and I'm his. We… don't have secrets from each other," said Airon, "At least not about that."

"I see," said Ten, "What about from your mother?" Shit, how many of my secrets does this whore know?

Airon raised his eyebrows, "And what would you know about her?"

"Well, I know a friend of mine and I both had to beat a hasty retreat from your respective flats the last time we were in town," said Ten, "And I've had enough of catfighting with uptight Orlesian bitches to last the year, so I'd really prefer this stay between us."

"Ah, that was you then," said Airon, "So you know… what's his name. Antivan elf. Blond."

"I'll be sure to tell Zevran you hold him in such high esteem," said Ten, chuckling.

"He's pretty when he's not talking," said Airon.

"That's most men," Ten said, "But suffice it to say I would prefer to leave the rest of your family out of it. They may not appreciate me getting involved. And I trust that what you know about me, you have not passed on, yes?"

"Nothing leaves these walls," said Airon, "Why, are you embarrassed of him or something?"

"It was never precisely a good look for me. Worse for him, in fact. I'm honestly surprised he told you."

"Teneira, I'm a whore. There's not much he could do that's more embarrassing than my day-to-day. And, well, between you and me, he had to tell someone."

I full on lost my shit, couldn't get out of bed for a week and I couldn't tell anyone why.

"I see," Ten said.

"Look, nobody'd expect you to carry a torch for Anton, not after everything you've been through. But he's a good man, in spite of himself," Airon's voice cracked then, and Teneira felt a surge of pity for the burden he must be carrying, having to spend night after night putting on an outrageous accent and be charming and bring people joy, all the while he wanted to jump out of his own ribcage with worry, "Whatever they've done, whatever he's done, he doesn't deserve to just disappear. He's not nothing. If he's dead, I want a proper pyre for him. If he's alive, I want to know where he is. I don't care if he's classed an elf and has to live out his days confined to the Alienage, but I want to see him."

"You're right. He's not nothing," said Ten, "I will see what I can do."

"All right," Airon said, relaxing visibly, "Well, here's your money. I mean, unless you fancy a tumble."

"You and I both know that would be way too weird, even for times like these," she said, "Though I might have some other work for you, if you're interested."

"You want me to spy, don't you," he said, crossing his arms, "Sorry, love, I would prefer that my reputation remain exactly what it is, and given our earlier conversation, I doubt you could come up with the coin to convince me otherwise."

"So you want me to play detective for you and you won't do a teensy bit of espionage for me?" Ten said, crossing her own arms.

"You are far colder than Anton described you," Airon said, "Here I was thinking you had a modicum of affection for the man and you're bargaining like a Rivaini trader."

"I'm not bargaining," said Ten, "I'll be looking into the matter no matter what, I simply wanted to ask you a question. As an honored professional of this esteemed establishment whose time I have purchased, however steep the discount."

"Fine," said Airon.

"Someone's been booking regular appointments with my old friend Ioan Vanalys, known professionally as the King," said Ten, "Do you know who?"

"I don't," said Airon, "But Will o the Whips probably does. They're with Bann Uthric now though, and he usually books overnights."

"Will o the Whips?"

"You know, Ioan's… spouse? Hanne Harrowmont?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Ten, "Last time I saw them they were going by Paragon Paddles."

"The dwarf angle got less popular I guess," said Airon, "But I'll let them know you came by."

"Bann Uthric, where's he from?" asked Ten.

"Somewhere outside Highever," said Airon, "Can't remember how the town styles itself."

"Does he have a last name?"

"Hargothen."

"And he likes getting his ass beat by androgynous dwarven prostitutes?"

"Ass, back, knees… what's your interest in this?"

"I'm writing a racy novel," said Ten, "And I appreciate the favor, Monsieur LeCoq. I will leave you to your regular clientele."

"Tell your friend to stop by," said Airon, "I've had a good week. He can have a discount."

"I'll leave out that you forgot his name," said Ten.

"And please, Teneira… find Anton."

"I will."

She made her way back out into the barroom, which had gotten far more populated in the half hour or so she'd been talking with Airon. Lelianna was back at the bar, halfway through a second bottle of wine and wholly entranced by a very tall human woman with arms like a blacksmith, wearing a waistcoat cut to accentuate them. She had Lelianna's chin in her hand and the good sister looked utterly starstruck.

"Madame," Ten said quietly, clearing her throat.

Lelianna turned, "Oh! Yes. Um. What do you need?"

"I wonder if I might return to the estate?" she asked, her eyes on the ground.

"Yes, yes, of course," Lelianna said absently, "You're dismissed."

"Thank you Madame," Ten said.

"What a grand mistress you are," the tall woman purred, leaning in towards Lelianna again, "You bought your maid a tumble, what a… generous lady."

Well this is just getting creepy, thought Ten, but did a little half curtsy and hurried out the door. She planned to head to the Paloma, that dingy bar that Nath tended, hoping that she might find Kennit Maycomb there. It was pitch black out by now, and in the dim light of the streetlamps, with the bonnet covering her ears, she hoped she would not be so conspicuously elfin as to attract the attention of whatever guards were patrolling. Not that most of them came down to this end of town, of course.

"Have a good time with our Jacques, Arlessa?" Dima asked, opening the door for her.

"Most satisfying," she said.

"Careful out there," he said, "Lots of lonely lads, and most of your protection is still locked down."

"I know," said Ten, "But needs must. Wish me luck."