He looks as if he's about to ask something, then decides against it. He holds out the baby wordlessly.

She takes the baby and brings her to the Singer. 

She tries to reach out to touch her child, but her arms are still broken; she hisses in pain and resigns herself to simply staring.

"I... so, you want to know about the jewel."

Nod, nod. "If it's an actual rock that isn't alive then I don't care," she adds, and lays the baby gently on her mother's breast.

"I don't know if it's alive or not," she admits, as the baby crawls over her. "I just know - let me start from the beginning. My sister was called the Eccentric Opera Singer. We're twins. The trouble started some months ago, when she started receiving visits from a man wearing a mask. He brought her glim jewelry and told her stories, and one of those stories was that this glim was chipped from the sides of an enormous jewel. One day, the two of them... disappeared. For months. I paid every investigator I could find, and none of them could find either one. Then they found her. Clarabelle. She was pregnant, heavily pregnant, and she was stark raving mad. She wouldn't stop talking about how much she loved... something. And she sang these... terrible songs. Inhuman. They ruined her voice." Tears come to her eyes. "I put her in the Royal Bethlehem while I saved money for us to go back to the Surface. I suppose I can't anymore... not now that I've died, not now that Elisabeth is alive. I'll need a different plan."

"I don't know about the long term...in the short term, though, I could hide you at my mother's place in the Prickfinger Wastes. People will think twice about bothering you out there."

Her eyes widen, but then she shakes her head effortfully. "I can't... not with Elisabeth. A baby in the Prickfinger Wastes wouldn't last a minute, with all the razor-stones and fragments, and I'm not leaving Will to nurse her alone. I think that whoever tried to kill me believes I'm dead - and I have no intention of revealing myself. I'll stay here. And-"

An idea strikes her. "If you want to help me... you could withdraw Clarabelle from the Royal Beth. It doesn't have to be me who checks her out, now that I'm supposedly dead, you just have to convince her to come with you. Withdraw her, and bring her here, and we'll pretend Will is taking care of her to atone for how he abandoned me. I think we could make it work."

"My brother and I did fine, but I see your point. Alright, I'll fetch her here. What do you want me to tell Hephaesta?"

"Hephaesta can know - she's my closest friend, I couldn't bear if she thought I were dead."

"Alright. Should I suggest she visit, perhaps ostensibly to yell at Will?"

The Singer bites her lip, then nods. "It's dangerous... but yes. I should see her again, at least once."

"Yeah. I don't think it would be better if she got suspicious and decided to investigate."

"And she certainly would," the Singer laughs weakly. "Alright - I think I have some things to discuss with Will. Could you send him in?"

"Sure." 

She leaves, telling Will that the Singer wants to see him, and heads for Mahogany Hall and Hephaesta. 

Hephaesta is in her dressing room again, as she often is.

"Hullo," she says when the Wastelander enters. "Did you find her?"

"Yep. Some people tried to kill her. We're letting them think they succeeded; she's hiding out at the Under-Secretary's place while I retrieve her sister."

Hephaesta heaves a sigh of relief.

"Thank you. I guess she's probably not in great shape, if they think they managed?"

"Not great, no. She did die a bit, but I managed to get to her before any permanent damage was done. Besides the fact that she can't go back to the Surface again. If you want to visit her, you could pretend you were going to yell at the Under-Secretary."

She nods firmly. "I've enough reason to, I think, especially if my best friend just died. Thank you for finding her, thank you for telling me - if there's aught you need a very strong woman for in the future, just ask."

"Thanks." 

And then off to the Royal Bethlehem! 

The Royal Bethlehem Hotel stands at the far south of the city, near the Forgotten Quarter. It's an enormous, beautiful structure.

When she walks in, there's a youth at the front desk with a smile almost as bright as the brass buttons on their coat. "Hello, miss!" they say. "How can I help you tonight?"

"Hi, I'm here to discharge the Eccentric Opera Singer on behalf of her sister."

"Oh!" they say. "It'll be a pity to see her go, the rest of our guests love her songs. But I'll check in the records for what room she's in- shouldn't take me but a moment..."

They flip through a registry book the size of an atlas, and frown. "Hmm... I know she was here last night, she was singing that lovely song about the moon by the fountain, but it doesn't have her on the fifth floor. That can't be right, I know she was on the fifth floor..." They flip through the book a bit more. "Let me consult the Manager, miss?"

"Of course."

The youth vanishes into the office behind the desk.

They return a couple of minutes later, followed by a tall man with an even wider grin and even shinier brass buttons on his coat. "What seems to be the difficulty?" he asks.

"Well, the lady came searching for the Eccentric Opera Singer, but I'm checking in the records and she doesn't seem to be listed?"

His grin fades. "Ah. Yes, well, I'm afraid you're a bit late to collect her. She was taken by a gentleman called Poor Edward. Apparently, after her sister's death, Mr. Fires felt that she would no longer be... secure... staying in our establishment. She's been taken to stay at the Orphanage, instead."

The youth's eyes widen.