A cup of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou?

And today we’re with Lynn

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Benor sat drinking coffee with Faldon and went through what he had learned
from the boat yard. The priest sat thoughtfully staring out of the door, his
heavily bandaged ankle propped up on a stool.
Slowly he said, “I keep going back to that note, where it says, ‘The two
lilies will die from salt water.’ Perhaps the intention is to use the boat to kill the Chevaleresse and her daughter, not just as an insurance fraud.”
“It could be. But how would they get the two women on the boat. They’re in
Partann and that boat would never survive the journey.” Benor paused, “The
same note hinted at a son being killed in an accident as well.”
“But do we know where the child is?”
“No.” Benor sighed. “I’m not sure how on earth to find him either. We know
nothing about him except for the fact we’ve deduced his existence from the
desire somebody has to kill him. And then Tallis found a patron who is sure
his mother the Chevaleresse mentioned him in passing.”
Faldon stood up. “I’ve heard nothing, but I was given this. He reached down
and picked up a bundle of old sheet that was on the floor beside him. Slowly
he unwrapped it and revealed a drinking cup. He passed it to Benor.
“Silver?”
“Yes Benor, silver. Virtually pure.”
Benor examined the drinking cup carefully. There was no handle but it just
sat nicely in his hand, reassuringly solid without being over heavy.
“It is a nice piece.”
“Look at the engraving, Benor.”
Whilst there were the usual bands of decoration, on one side there was a
running horse. It was beautifully executed. It was so lifelike Benor
wondered if it was the image of a real horse, a much beloved companion
immortalised in silver.  Then below the front feet of the horse he noticed
there was a small crouching dragon, and below the rear feet a small stylised
lily.
He reluctantly handed the cup back. “I might be able to put a name to the
person who engraved it.”
“A Partannese artist?” Faldon asked.
“Vortac Lilywhite. I’d put money on it.”
Faldon contemplated the cup he was holding. “I got it given.”
“Somebody must have been really pleased with their haircut!”
“In a way, perhaps he was. I won’t mention his name; he’s a jeweller and
‘almost a fence.’”
“I thought you were or you weren’t. Being almost a fence is like being
almost a virgin.”
“I think he mean that he did buy and resell stuff, but he always managed to
convince himself that the person selling the item did genuinely own it. In
this case he couldn’t do that. It was obviously stolen. The woman who
brought it to him merely described it as ‘an heirloom.’ So he tested her. He
offered her a third of what he’d normally offer and she took the money and
left.”
“So how is it that you’ve got it?”
“That’s my fault. He heard me talking about honesty and the advantages of a
clear conscience, and he realised that he wasn’t comfortable with what he’d
done. Up until he’d got this cup he’d always managed to convince himself he
was an honest man. Now he couldn’t, he was just another crooked jeweller. So he gave it me and asked me to find a good home for it.”
“Did he say how long he’d had it?”

To find out what happens next, go to

https://www.authorreadercheerleader.com/arcblog/blogtour-part-10-of-the-plight-of-the-lady-gingerlily-by-jim-webster-fantasy