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Tillyfor laughed aloud, despite her peevishness; she seemed to have got the message. "So you think Mister Balloch did have something to do with Tillykerie's disappearance?" "I can't be sure," I replied, "But I've a hunch that Mister Balloch knows something about this business. Hence why I'm going to be snooping around the threatre." I put my hat back on my head and adjusted the brim to a suitably rakish angle. "Time to go," I said, heading for the door. As I reached it, I asked casually, "By the way, have you ever had, err, dinner with Mister Balloch?" "No!" Tillyfor said sharply, too sharply, "He's never asked, and I would have said no anyway." "Okay, okay," I said placatingly, "Just needed to be sure, that's all. Some dancers have been entertained by him." She subsided somewhat at my explanation. "I know some of the chorus girls dine with Mister Balloch," she said softly, "I was warned off." I nodded. She didn't say who by. "I'll come by again in a day or two, let you know what I've learned." "I miss my sister, Mister Gask," Tillyfor whispered, suddenly seeming close to tears, "I worry about her. Please find her quickly." "I understand," I lied. I didn't understand at all. Why was she so convinced that her sister was in harm's way, or at least needed finding so badly? Was there something else she knew, something she wasn't telling me? I hurried down the steps from Tillyfor's apartment. I didn't want to be late for my appointment at the theatre. As it happened, I arrived at the stage door less than five minutes early, although my prompt arrival was touch and go for a while. The Midnight Square Theatre stood, as one might have expected, on the square of the same name. When I arrived, the plaza itself was thronged with people of every shape and size and age. There were lots of children, itself quite a rarity given the long lives of Goblins. The place was obviously a minor tourist destination and, as I was to rapidly discover, for good reasons too. Every few paces, somebody had set up a stall selling trinkets or opened a space for street entertainers of all kinds: jugglers and acrobats, contortionists and magicians - by which I mean sleight-of-hand and prestidigitation, since real magic was generally too expensive to be used prolifically. And there were musicians everywhere: every ten yards, a different band or ensemble was bashing out some popular number at maximum volume. Fortunately, most of them had deployed glamours that deadened the sound of all the other performers in the vicinity. It was like walking from one bubble of deafening music to another. I had pushed my way through the crowds, skirting the acts and their assertively-presented collection plates, and squeezing past dawdling tourists haggling with the stallholders. I kept a careful eye out for pickpockets; anybody trying to pick my pockets could lose more than just their fingers. I have a lot of important stuff about my person and I'm very careful about any of it getting mislaid.
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Part 18