"I'm not terribly religious, but I'm sure I can recognise a church OK, even a few hundred years out of time. And we can always ask someone where the local churches are, that's a pretty innocent question."
The man, tall and clean shaven, leading a dog on a leather string breaks into a broad smile at your question. "Well bless my soul, it does a body good to hear that question. The nearest church is just over yonder." You can see a spire just poking up above the rows of dockside shops and taverns. It looks to be a couple of streets away. "A bit rough and ready, but their faith is strong enough. Now, you'll want to avoid the Church of the Jubilation. The priest there's a wretch and a sot, and doesn't pay his debts to boot. No, you young folks stay far away from there." He looks at Bartek curiously, unable to quite determine whether or not he counts as young.
"Let me see, where else. There's Saint Paul's. That's where the Governor goes, not nearly often as he should in my opinion. They don't let just anyone in there, and you'd think he'd take advantage of that, and there's his immortal soul to be thinking about. There's the Lower Church, that's very popular. Oh! There's a small church up near the turtle kraals. The priest there is a real strange cove, to hear folks tell. Never met him myself, and I wouldn't want to judge him on hearsay, but they do say he talks a lot about disaster befalling us all. Well I don't know about that, but... "
The man continues to chunter on, quite delighted to have a captive audience. The dog pulls on the string, clearly hoping it was somewhere else.
"Yeah, sounds like someone outta their time," Lysa agrees. "Let's head that way." She watches for anyone looking particularly suspicious of them... and, to be honest, anyone who looks like they'd be neat to pickpocket.
Ace wonders aloud "We definitely need to check him out, but I wonder if he's too obvious? Aren't your people usually a bit stealthier than that, Bartek?" Ace also wonders when she got quite so paranoid.
With difficulty, you interrupt the man long enough to determine that the turtle kraals are at the western edge of the harbour, and that the Church of the Jubilation is on Queens Street, a little way inland. After that, he immediately starts describing in mind numbing detail a church he once went to in Brighton.
Lysa, you don't see anyone looking particularly suspicious of your group. Most of the passers by are sailors in various states of inebriation. Easy marks, but they're clearly a lot less well off than before they started drinking. More interesting are the officials: dressed smartly, carrying black satchels that could contain all sorts of interesting things.