"Something that doesn't operate in polite society. Or impolite society for that matter. I suppose you'll hear soon enough but I'd really rather Nutcracker didn't hear and maybe start some premature rumors."

"Fair enough, easiest way to calm a panic is not to start one. Are there many non-humans in polite society? I heard about devils, and Measurers if those count, but all I've met is humans and rats."

"There's a few more types, none overwhelmingly common. I'd call the Measurers impolite society in that they can be negotiated with."

"That seems like a fair place to set the line. Anything else before I go talk to 'Blues'? Should I explain how it works to you, or wait for Ms. Garden?"

"Ms. Garden will not be present. You can explain on the way. Let's get to it!"

"I'm her escort," the Officer says. "I don't need to hear your interrogation but I'll remain nearby, please."

"Of course. Right this way."

She can explain on the way through a twisty series of halls and stairways down, into an old fashioned steel barred jail cell where a man in a Tragedy theater mask is held, looking depressed and hopeless.

"Simple version: I trail a circle onto the floor, channeling magic into it, and when it's complete, it will flash white, and until I let the spell drop, anyone standing inside the circle - me included, though I don't expect you to trust that - is unable to lie and will find it difficult to actively mislead. Resisting answering a question is a matter of time; people with a bit of skill or willpower can manage to ask the question to be retracted, but about half a minute of stalling is as far as I've ever seen that stretch. As a matter of professionalism, I prefer to establish what topics are going to be covered before asking, so that people can trust I'm not getting them into a circle saying I'll check that they didn't lie to me and then ask them about what thefts they're planning for the next month. I can drop it prematurely if the questioning breaks that."

At about this point, she sees the prison cell. Interesting choice of decoration on the prisoner.

"Under the circumstances, that doesn't seem necessary today. Though I'd prefer to briefly explain what's going to happen to the accu- hmm. To Blues."

"If he really sold out a lot of our friends to- A terrible fate, then I'm going to kill him. If not... I'm going to go after the setup and maybe see about cleaning up the mess."

"I didn't, I didn't, I swear I was tricked!"

"Well, good news, boy, you're getting a chance to say so and be believed. You won't be able to lie or mislead. So either Rose decides to believe you, or you're dead."

She taps the cane on the floor, and starts making the circle. It glows faintly white again.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

Ms. Rose stands in it and has her lackey ask a couple of harmless questions. She nods decisively and shoos everyone except the Dire Lady away, and unlocks the cell.

"Did you sell anyone to the Mindflayers?"

"No! No, I didnt, it was that rat Boreas. He gave us the route."

"And the mindflayers were there?" 

"Yes! There's- It was a perfect ambush in the old pumping station on Clavering, they got them all at once, all except me."

"How do you know it was Boreas?"

"He gave us the route and it was unusual. I thought he was up to something and I barely escaped with my life!"

Rusty Rose glances to the Dire Lady, fingers tapping on a gun holster. "I honestly... Did not expect this. Troubling. Ma'am, I suppose you have interrogation experience? If you'd care to show your stuff. Up to you."

"Did Boreas tip you off, pay you, or otherwise involve you in his plan? Do you know, or suspect, why the Mindflayers spared you?"

"I had - Okay okay I had some idea that something was gonna happen, but I wouldn't have sicced mindflayers on them! If he tipped me off he did it so sneaky-like even I didn't notice. I think I just got lucky, I shot one and one of the jars of honey broke, they kind of - swarmed it - then I ran for it and hid in a sewer pipe for a day."

"Hell. Mindflayers are bad news. Are you sure they were mindflayers?"

"I mean, splitting headache when one looked at you, the fucking weird thought that it'd be so nice and comfy to stop resisting, purple heads with tentacle mouths? Yes. It was mindflayers."

"How many?"

"Uh... Six? Maybe ten? Not much more than that. I wasn't really in a state to stop and count."

"This was May 6, right? Because the drop was for the seventh."

"Right."

"So thirty-seven days ago now, six to ten mindflayers, at least, in the bowels of New Winchester... Which may not end up being our problem, precisely, but they are rather a problem for everyone at some point."

"Are we reassured that he's telling the truth and don't need the circle? I have a last question, but I'm fine to drop it assuming the answer matches my expectations."

"Is is straining? Couple more sanity checks and I can be done."

"Expends 'mana', which exists here but was a lot more abundant back home. It will take me about an hour to recover ten second's worth, unless and until I work out a better method."

A slight raising of one eyebrow and a sharp nod. She steps into the circle. "Blues, work with us here and you'll be fine. Were you telling the truth the whole time?"

"Yes! I- Yes."

"Are you going to keep being honest on the topic of mindflayers? No lies of omission, no fancy wordplay, just- Honesty."

"Yes."

Rusty Rose says, "Good. Okay, you can drop it."

"Are there any questions you're hoping you aren't asked, and what are they?"

He freezes, frowns, then deflates slightly and grinds out, "Yes. 'Is there something you did someone'd want to kill you for.' I've been skimming the red honey."

Rusty Rose's eyes narrow, then she shakes her head and makes a cutting motion in the Dire Lady's direction.

"Not a good move. Not at all. Cost of doing business, to an extent but we'll be going over the details," this word comes out sharp and threatening, "later, out of Ms. Dire's relatively limited attention."

"Yes, Rusty Rose."

Teysa nods, and the circle's light cuts out.

"Well, it sounds like you have discussions it would make no sense to have in my hearing. I can think of ways an outsider might be handy for passing messages about the mind flayers, if you don't like the channels you have already. But that can, presumably, wait."

"Yes, we've got a lot of work to do now. The Gentlemen can handle a bunch of overgrown brainjackers if we have warning, there's ways and ways, and we don't want the Establishment rooting around New Winchester's basement, so I'd consider it a favor if you keep this to yourself, hm? Not that you'd get taken seriously easily at any rate."

"Naturally. Well, I'm sure you can find me. And we can talk about other services I can provide another time. Shall I leave with the Officer?"

"Not quite yet. You've in all likelihood saved my Lady a lot of headaches, so. What'cha need? Sovs? Bed?" An eyebrow-raised glance to the thrulls. "Warm meat?"

"Well, I certainly saved you some cash by asking my own questions, and I won't refuse a cut. Five percent of what he skimmed in honey would seem fair. But my most urgent needs are recommendations for trustworthy lodgings, and a tailor who can match the cut of my robes in less gaudy materials. It hides my bad leg, and I don't fancy having to fight off every idiot who decides that I must be an easy mark."

"There's a lovely little cheesemonger who owes the Gentlemen a favor. I'll call it in for you. Tailors, well, we certainly have brisk business with a family that does good work, but you'll have to pay somehow - materials are not free. Let's head back up for now, then?"

The Ambiguous Officer, waiting at attention, silently looks at her with a slightly expectant expression as they approach.

"This outfit was, if you can believe it, even gaudier when I landed. I'll have no trouble paying for materials. Point me and the Officer in the right direction, then?"

They receive an escort to a conspicuously respectable (for the area) single-story wooden building. Fresh-painted walls and polished brass trim and clean glass windows. The sign just says Felters. The interior's mannikins and displays speak of understated luxury, meticulously kept. It almost seems holy, the way passers-by regard it.

A salesman in an understated suit sees their escort flash a hand sign, and then coolly asks Teysa, "What are you looking for today, madam? Felters clothier is, I assure you, utterly professional."