The welcome distraction was enlarged further in his mind by this short list. He found himself forgetting the death-flowers in favor of struggling to go over the entire library in his head, checking the lists of books he knew against the ideas of puzzles and song.

He couldn't think of anything that had both, but maybe if he found a songbook? He couldn't read musical notation. Some could; he thought that whoever played the piano in the Palace must be able to but he himself had never learned. Paws did not lend themselves overly well to keyboards.

Bentley shook himself, thinking. "I'll find something. It might take a bit but you can talk to Isra first," he noted, and picked the bone back up.

Then he kept on toward the palace at a trot, glancing back to see if East was coming with.

@East

As Bentley seemed to take a pause to consider the surface level personal information offered, a conveniently placed sculpture had the misfortune of becoming slightly more scratched by talons. While its abstract shape was fluid enough to provide a struggle that deterred simpleminded Lesser avians potentially seeking out a perch, the sleek design hadn't accounted for the stubbornness of Greaters. East's feet slid off of smooth crystal on the first few attempts to settle down for a spell, but eventually determined prodding about discovered a few divots useful for anchoring himself in place.

Cepheus's gardens were indeed well-maintained, but its tremendous, manicured sprawl nevertheless was reminiscent of wilder areas of the caves the farther they had journeyed out. Every variety of flower had its own designated patch, yet they grew in such vast quantities that if he were any smaller of a bird, these enforced factions might have served as convincing forests on their own. The only thing missing was the rampant diversity which sprang from the unhindered intermingling of species. From his high resting spot, he could discern their traveling pace had been quite brisk so far despite the bone currently carried with them; closer to the palace, the plants had begun to thin out, clumps setting down roots in the surrounding area instead of the whole armies of before.

"Take however much time you need," he advised. "Would be a bit featherbrained of me if I thought all those books fit in your skull, right?"

Once the break ended and Bentley returned to his duty of helping deliver the bone, East shrugged the tire from his shoulders. He launched himself from his glittering perch, wings snapping out to catch the breeze and swoop him down after the dog padding along. Call him rarely and tragically optimistic, but he thought ornate walls could be glimpsed a short walk ahead through a grove of decorative potted trees.

@Bentley

Bentley plodded on at a trot, dutiful and focused. He wove his way through flowers, needlessly holding his head high now as if he feared similar attacks from tulips or roses. Now and then a patch of thorn caught his fur, but nothing tore him badly, and he eventually padded onto smooth, worked marble paths that wound perfectly placed among the tended foliage.

Eventually he reached the columns of the Palace entrance. Here he paused, setting the bone down, and turned to find East.

"Is here okay?" he asked, and then realized the bird might not know where to find Isra. "Isra should be somewhere inside. I don't know where, but someone should know," he added; there were enough people the bird could ask, if she wasn't easily found. "I could wait in the library now and look for books for you? Or-..?" and here he trailed off, in case that wasn't what East wanted.

He himself was still not quite thinking straight; maybe he had missed something, or maybe East would need something more before Bentley headed in.

@East

Wings buffeting the air announced East's presence. Light on his toes and head turned to catch Bentley's voice, he landed close by, a hop or three away from the canine. As his eyes shifted to the bone resting practically at the Palace's doorstep, the stance he held was casual, lacking evidence of the considerable weight that lay behind certain troubling thoughts relating to its existence. These remained unvoiced, the burden an invisible one whose sensitive contents he intended to unload only to the proper ears.

A nod addressed the first question asked of him, beak dipping down groom a couple wind-ruffled chest feathers back into position. "That's fine. Isra's got run of this place, so I doubt a walk over here will be a problem for her." The remaining concerns were dismissed with a rustling wave. "As for you," he said, using a mock-stern tone similar to a physician prescribing treatment, "what did we just discuss? Unless you really want to listen to me gab with her about what we found, you're better off enjoying that library of yours. I'll catch up with you later, books or not."

East swept a set of talons out in a shooing motion, much like a maid brandishing a broom at a pest if it weren't for the twinkle of humor in his gaze.

@Bentley

For the briefest of moments, Bentley took the question literally. His brain scrambled to catch up, alarmed, worried he'd missed something, when East asked 'what did we just discuss?'

It took a second, blinking, for the rest of his brain to actually catch up and realize it hadn't been meant literally. And no, he realized at once, he absolutely did not want to be there for that conversation. He was not a particularly experienced hound when it came to trauma, but he knew at once that listening to it, he'd be partially reliving what he'd just gone through.

No: best to forget, to rush to the fireside and lose himself back in those books.

"Okay. I'll meet you inside, then. I'll look for something for you," he added, as reassuringly as he could manage.

Then he turned, trotting (a little too quickly) for the interior of the palace, arrowing for his library.

(temporary exit? @East )

"Yes, you do that," East called out after Bentley's fleeing hindquarters. Not a syllable of the parting shot was intended to be patronizing. If anything, a faint touch of praise colored his words: the dog must have put his sensitive nose to good use and sniffed out the consequences a trip down memory lane would likely cause. Retreating to familiar surroundings, far from cowardly, was the sensible choice when recuperating from a fresh shredding of the psyche. No shame in retreating to lick the wounds numb.

Not desiring to appear like he was fond of chasing after tails, once the appendage swished past the entryway, a couple of seconds were allotted to giving the librarian a head start. Drumming talons on the ground, he let his mind gallivant off into the clouds for a brief respite from worldly problems. Of course, it all came crashing back to earth upon taking one long glance at the bone set down at the palace steps, and duty demanded he fantasize no longer about places dark impulses had never set foot within. Then, thoughts organized in a tightly bound case file, a bone-shuddering sigh braced himself for an unappealing walk.

His previous visit a lively occasion, not many opportunities had been afforded for a thorough exploration of the grand piece of architecture hosting it. In fact, a whole fleet of assorted critters had made certain he hadn't strayed from his destination on a hunch, ushering him straight to a room and into a body plucked featherless in exchange for a cleverer set of fingers. Squatting in ruins the closest he ever came to being an inside bird, how was he to distinguish servants' quarters from a respected authority's private space. Common sense probably. Often enough it was the only tool at his disposal. Left with a name and no map of the interior, it'd be seeing some heavy application again.

No reason to play any more clueless than he already was, East strode along, confidence feigned in a head held high and a decisive gait. Further examination would reveal that noggin to be full of air and little knowledge of the layout trod, too many doors prodded open and quickly shut to support the image he projected. Each wrong guess was brushed off with an exaggerated nod assuring the furniture was in its exact place. Just making the rounds, he was, definitely not blindly butting his beak into everyone else's business.

((Definitely a temporary exit. East isn't going to leave Bentley hanging on that library visit if he can help it.))

After a multitude of searched rooms, East came upon the lady of the house herself: Isra, doing stewardly sorts of things, in this case supervising what appeared to be the redecoration of a damaged room. Strange creatures with bristly, feathery rumps were 'sweeping' a floor, while the little tophatted creature Eggbert hastened over with a bundled-up, water-stained bedsheet between his paws.

"Very good, Eggbert," she assured him, and then her serpentine tails turned to eye their visitor.

"Good!"
"VERY good!"
"Very..." the third tail hissed, somehow making this sound rather ominous.

Isra turned, peering at the stranger, the flames in her eyes flickering. "Can I help you?" she asked, wondering who this might now be--and hoping it wasn't going to be trouble.

@East

Now, poking around this place as inquisitive minds usually do, the last thing he expected to find was a welcoming committee waiting behind any closed doors. Maybe if lady luck wanted a laugh, she’d allow a few to promptly slam in his face, the occupants within horrified and offended by the sudden gross violation of their privacy. Otherwise, after dozens of disappointments, East predicted his next search would reveal another empty room and perhaps the final downer that might encourage a break from stubborn snooping.

To peer into the crack of one entryway and be greeted by a busy little fleet of housekeepers shouldn’t have been such a surprise, yet the entire sight turned out far more of a marvel than one might initially imagine. A dapper character waddled about the scene, every bit as portly as his rotund figure and style of dress suggested, while a feather-bottomed workforce operated as a unit to sweep away a domestic mess. All their movements were orchestrated by a striking mistress standing in the hustle and bustle’s midst. Hopefully interrupting the established rhythm here wouldn’t invite venomous retribution.

Attracting the attention of critical eyes, both fiery and reptilian, didn’t inspire much confidence in that outcome though. If either his tongue or a feather slipped out of place, he had suspicions he’d be fleeing the premises carrying an unpleasant souvenir, and it wouldn’t be the bone of some poor sap abandoned to feed the flowers. Rather a lesson would be learned on how terribly scorched plumage stank. Nevermind the even worse possibility if Isra—since this undeniable authority deserved the only fitting name available—believed Gembounds’ corpses best nourished the Palace’s teeming gardens.

He’d keep his imposition polite; provide less reasons to fuel potential scorn. Careful wing placement nudged the door the slightest more open, and East dared tread a step beyond the threshold, no grand entrance necessary for a straightforward report and inquiry. He was unarmed for the moment, rapier wit left in the hallway. However, the hawk wouldn’t allow himself to stray too far away from its presence. An everyday comfort against formidable beasts, it was a difficult weapon to drop.

"Pardon," he said, accompanied by an apologetic tip of the head. "I see you’ve business to attend to, but I have some concerns about the state of the gardens. A pal of mine happens to work here. They took me on a tour through them, and we found, ah, questionable business in one of the fields after an… unfortunate stumble."

Indoors lacked a clear view of the location he intended to point out. Therefore, eyes screwed up, picturing the landscape residing past polished stone walls, and a small pivot properly oriented East. Sure as Orion’s quartz-clad ceiling twinkled in darkness, he waved talons toward an obscured point in the distance. "It was way at the very back there, in that expanse of pale petals. A buried skeleton."

"Now I don’t know how you keep your plants here thriving. Maybe you like throwing a couple dead things into the soil to help with growth." No big deal, a shrug made apparent. "But this fella seemed a little too deliberately hidden to brush off, so I figured I’d check in with the boss of the place. There’s a piece of them I left just outside if you want any proof. Couldn’t manage carrying much else, so the rest should be back where we found them."

If the bone dissolved any skepticism, at least he could grant himself partial forgiveness for disturbing the crime scene so greatly.

Isra listened, the workers at first pausing to eavesdrop and then--at a brief glance from their mistress--hastily returning to their work. It wasn't that she was threatening them. They were just rather easily distracted, it seemed.

'A polite one. That's always nice,' she thought, at first. This quickly waned, though, as East's politeness turned to--despite his mention that she clearly had business to attend to (admittedly exceedingly boring business)--a rather roundabout ramble to get to what she assumed was his point.

She peered at him as he finished, her mind briefly going back over what he'd said, because so far as she could tell none of it was anything that should have warranted her attention. But after thinking it through not once, but twice, she still could not figure out what was so strange--enough to justify him seeking her out to report it.

"You found bones, in the garden?" she said, at last, bemused.

"Bonesssssss," one serpentine tail hissed.
"Found!"
"In the garden!"

She ignored them.

"I assume you have reason to believe it's not simply a Lesser-?" she asked, that faint bemusement still present. She did assume that. She couldn't think of any other reason someone would report bones. Which meant--what, that it'd had clothing?

Was it a guest who'd met a foul end? A Valkhound, one of the old ones, maybe-?

She shook her head, the ghostfire flicker in her eyes trailing behind the movement. "We don't make a habit of dumping dead bodies in the gardens, no. Not to my knowledge, at least," she added, thinking back to Pollen. The little gardener didn't seem the sort to have made that a new fertilizing method, no. "Possibly someone who provoked the Hellswans," she mused aloud, and was amused at that, as well.

That was always pretty funny.

But... bones? And not a chrysalis? Her eyes narrowed in thought. Her decision came a moment later, because as it stood, she simply had no idea what East might have found or why it was report-worthy. "I'd like more detail, please." Despite the politeness of her chosen words, her authority rang within them; it was more a command than a request, as nicely as she'd said it.

@East

Isolation had raised a bird accustomed to independence; any exertion of will invoked an instinctual urge to buck against the heavy hand fallen over him. Nevertheless, despite wariness and defiance flashing across yellow eyes, East reigned his tongue in before it could dare to lash out unnecessarily in smart comment. While a tension-corded neck might have betrayed the imposed restraint, only a hint of it transferred to the deferential lowering of his beak that was directed to Isra.

The demand was reasonable, so he would deliver, though messenger pigeon he was far from.

"Well, ma'am," he said, "unless your Hellswans kill cleanly, I can't imagine they played too much of a part in how these bones ended up where my pal and I found them. At least from the piece I had help hauling back here, there weren't signs of this fella's leg being used as a chew toy or a sharpening tool for anybody's teeth. By the looks of it, whoever this was, they were rather old and likely stood upright. And they were large too—not that it takes much to dwarf me. You'd be better off verifying that yourself for more accurate comparison."

There were the concrete details. Onward to the pressing uncertainties then.

"Now I don't have the size for it, and they were pretty well buried, so I couldn't dig up and discover if there's any injuries on the rest of the body. If it's as clean of marks as what I nabbed, then somehow someone died from causes far from usual and a friend decided to have a quiet little burial recently without your permission. Either that or someone used your garden to hide a dirty deed they committed. Seeing as we stumbled upon the whole thing in the middle of a patch of flowers whose pollen gives you a nasty dose of bad visions, seems like the point was to keep it well concealed from prying eyes. A very deliberate choice of burial site, wouldn't you think?"