Dànpiàn shifts into tiny form, the better to inconspicuously investigate the layout and habitancy and so on, and scampers away. 

And as the rest of them move further in, a figure emerges from the left-hand wall. 

Lann has an arrow nocked before he realizes that the ghostly figure is of an angel, and not some kind of incorporeal demon. What...?

"Kenabres burns...the city that should never have fallen," intones the figure of an angel wearing a helmet that covers his entire face. "Fate shows no mercy."

Another spectral figure--this one of a human woman--steps out from the wall to the right. "Clouds may veil the stars, but nothing can hide the light in someone's soul. And I see this light in you!"

Another human woman, this one in armor steps out from just beyond her predecessor. "We will stand shoulder to shoulder with you against evil!" 

Finally, another angel steps out on the left, just slightly closer to the group than the other angel. "I hear the echo of a familiar voice, I feel the warmth of my kindred flame... my sister, we will help you!" 

And then this final specter casts a spell, and dissipates. 

It feels...warm. A little like the Light of Heaven, but mostly not. 

"What was that?"

"Beats me, Chief. I'm just glad it doesn't seem to have alerted the guys we're here to spy on." 

"Mm." 

She approaches the place in the wall where the fourth figure emerged. 

"'Among the Cloudy Colossi,'" she reads aloud. "In this picture the two angels, Targona and Lariel, are chasing and fighting a deadly vrolikai demon in the air, several miles above the Worldwound." More details in the "museum almanac," apparently, whatever that is. "Targona and Lariel...Lann, this picture must be so old." She summons Lariel's sword to her hand, not flaring it or anything, just holding it. "So the angel there was Targona..." 

The painting has the angel whose transparent form cast something on all of them, and also--

Lusilla had not, actually, seen Lariel from a third-person perspective before. She gazes at the painting a little longer, trying to burn his image into her memory. 

There's another painting behind the other angelic figure, only just now beginning to fade. She still scoots politely around him, not wanting to find out what happens if she intersects one of these insubstantial figures. 

"Here We Stand and Will Not Take a Step Back." The Hand of the Inheritor, Herald of Iomedae, is depicted placing the first Wardstone among the fortifications of Kenabres.

The first one, huh? That--it's not that she didn't know they needed to solve it. But. This does highlight it. 

...Does the helmed angel not have any other name, besides his job title? Or maybe he prefers not to share it. That would be reasonable, having a title to be used in all the stories and being able to go home and have your real name just be treated normally. 

As she moves away from that painting, intending to cross the hall to look at the two other paintings that spawned insubstantial avatars, one of the paintings on this side catches her eye. 

It's situated to the left of the Targona and Lariel one. The first thing that caught her attention was the shine of the metallic pigments used to paint the hair, but...

"Is that your mother?"

"Yes."

"...She's dead, then." 

Flatly: "Yes." 

"...For what it's worth, I'm sorry." 

He shrugs and looks away. 

Okay, Luzai is going to go over and look at the other paintings--oh, the human woman in armor was Yaniel, neat, Seelah will probably like to hear that. 

Dànpiàn returns relatively soon thereafter, fortunately for anyone who dislikes awkward silences. She has found a path through the miscellaneously three-dimensional rubble that is probably traversable by Medium humanoids and that will let them spy on some people. 

Oh, excellent. Finally they can do some actual spying. 

The path Dànpiàn found would have been difficult to discover without a rat-sized shape to scamper around in; there are plenty of points along it that look like they'd be totally blocked off or wouldn't hold weight, until you see it from exactly the right angle. But it leads to a really good spot to hide in. 

Like, really really good. Good enough that, in addition to the demon-aligned guys arguing in the relative open, they can also see another guy in a slightly less good hiding spot who also appears to be spying on the demons also. She thinks he's a dwarf? He looks built mostly like Staunton and Joran Vhane. 

The miscellaneous cultists and demons say a lot of stuff, while they don't know they're being spied on. Fortunately, Woljif pilfered some extra paper from Ancientries and Wonders, so they can take notes! 

The probably-a-dwarf leaves well before they're done spying. Lusilla has--no context, on why, specifically. Maybe he wanted some specific piece of information and got it; maybe he needed to be somewhere else at a specific time; maybe he was afraid of getting caught in his less-perfect hiding place. 

Later she'll ask if Daeran got a good enough look at him to draw him. And if he did, she can ask--probably Anevia--if this guy is also spying for the crusaders. Or something. It's even possible that the guy is himself a cultist and his spying was cultist infighting, not that she'd say so out loud somewhere someone might hear her and imagine she had some reason to back this supposition and it wasn't just idle musing. 

Their hiding spot isn't exactly comfortable, though, and as the sun goes down it seems like a good idea to get out of there and to somewhere they can actually sleep, for the night. Especially since Woljif's quiet complaints about the situation have been getting more frequent and sincere, and--she has enough power over him that she doesn't want to ask too much of him. 

Dànpiàn goes out again in rat form to make sure the way is clear and they won't run into any demons or anything on the way out. 

"Can we stay at your place overnight?" Lusilla asks Daeran, once they're well clear of the place. "It's nearish here, and also we did want to talk to Aranka." It's been hours since the awkward moment, it's probably fine to ask this. 

"Why not."

They do, in fact, have to go over one of Kenabres's inner walls in order to make the most direct path from the Tower of Estrod to Daeran's mansion, but Lusilla can in fact carry everyone over the wall a couple at a time. ...Actually she carries them up onto the wall, and then once everyone's there she starts ferrying them down to the other side. So that if at any point one of the groups runs into trouble the people on the wall can at least do archery to help, instead of being unable to do anything. Relatedly, she brings Lann up first and down last. 

Wheeeeeeeeeee.

It's certainly a novel experience. 

"Hi Aranka!" Lusilla says once they get there. Then she looks again at the remaining party guests and entertainers and says, "can you step back upstairs with me for a bit, there's something mildly delicate I need to talk to you about?"

Hm. That's not amazing. Aranka's not sure if it's a good sign or a bad one that the paladin of Iomedae isn't present this time. 

"Okay!" she says brightly, because if this isn't about what she's concerned it's about, then letting on that there is something concerning might be a bad idea.

Once they are out of earshot of anyone who doesn't already know that Prelate Hulrun is out for Aranka's head, Lusilla says, "So we ran into Ramien, and he would like to know that you and the others are okay, and also the Wardstone is we believe more fucked up than it was when you originally tried to fix it, and probably what you were going to try at that point isn't going to be enough at this point but it might still help. And we really really need to fix it." 

Aranka relaxes fractionally. "It's not that I'm unwilling to help, you understand, but..."