"You're actually the first person outside of the Merry Men that knows the address of this place," Marian admitted with a small nod. "But-" she pulled the little orange scarab from out of her pocket and opened her hand to Qebhet to reveal it. It was warm from its extended contact with her. "The moment this was in my hand, I knew you were someone who could be trusted. And," she added with a little more reticence, "I might have googled you extensively just to check if there was even a single account in your stories of dodginess." It turned out that the Merry Men had far more stories of being arseholes than Qebhet did.