Aelar sent him out of the room to make a few final preparations. Martin went to find Jacques again and tell him they were leaving. Jacques wished him well and asked him to hold out his hand. Martin gave him an inquisitive look, but did as he was asked. With a quick motion, Jacques grabbed Martin's hand and pushed something sharp into his open palm. Martin cursed and drew his hand back. Sticking out of his palm was a small metal thumbtack.
“Have I offended you in some way, Jacques?” he asked, pulling the tack out of his palm.
“Not at all. That’s just a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“A reminder of what’s real. Keep that on you tonight. You might need it.”
Martin gave Jacques a strange look but didn’t enquire more. He slipped the tack into a breast pocket where it hopefully wouldn’t get in the way. Aelar came for him soon after. He had put on a jacket, but if he had added any additional tools or weapons, they weren’t immediately apparent.
“Are you ready?” Aelar asked him.
Martin gingerly patted near where his thumbtack was stored and nodded his affirmative.
“Our Lord be with you,” Jacques said in farewell. If that was a sincere blessing of the Faceless God or Jacques’ idea of a joke, Martin wasn’t entirely sure. The two left the chapel through the back entrance and made their way to the Black Dog, which was located near the dockside. As a docker, Martin had heard the name before, but it was on the far side of the dockyard from Crane’s landing, so he had never had enough cause to make his way out there, especially given the large number of drinking holes scattered around this part of town.
On the way there, Aelar walked him through the plan. Other than some of its more unusual patrons, the Black Dog was a standard Alderbridge pub. Seraphine usually sat at a back corner table, where she told fortunes and gave advice. Martin was to enter first and make his way to a spot on the other side of the room, where he could enjoy a drink and look out over the crowd. Aelar would enter later and speak to Seraphine. If all went well, that was the extent of Martin’s role tonight.
A short walk later, and they had arrived in front of the Black Dog. It was still early evening, so not many people were ready to begin drinking, and as a result, there wasn't much noise coming from the bar. Aelar led Martin to a nearby restaurant and ordered dinner for them. They chatted briefly about anything not related to Cosmics or the supernatural until Aelar gave a nod that it was time to go.
They left the pub together, and saying their goodbyes, went their separate ways. Martin went to the Black Dog directly, while Aelar continued walking toward the far side of the dockside, where docker lodgings could be found. Martin kept his breathing under control and tried to enter the Black Dog like he had been there a dozen times. The door opened easily and revealed a typical Alderbridge pub. The man behind the bar and a few other patrons looked up at him, but noticing nothing in particular of interest, quickly returned to their drinks.
The hour Martin and Aelar had spent having dinner was enough time for the evening rush to start, and the bar was about a third full with patrons, mostly dockers or other working-class men, with just a few women sprinkled about. There were about a dozen tables scattered around the bar, pockmarked and mismatched as if they needed to be replaced fairly often. In the far corner of the room, Martin found a rectangular table with a hooded figure sitting against the wall. Between the hood and the shadow, it was impossible to make out the figures' features. Martin could only see the hands shuffling a deck of cards. He turned his head away before he could be mistaken for staring and made his way to the bar. He ordered a beer and slid his coin across the bar to an experienced barman, who tested it quickly with his fingernail and then slid it out of sight and began to pour Martin his drink.
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The beer came quickly. It wasn’t the worst pour Martin had ever received, but there was definitely room for more in the glass. Martin nodded his thanks and took a drink. At least it didn’t taste off. He wandered away from the bar and took up a stool at a small circular table, facing the door. The hooded figure he presumed to be Seraphine was in his peripheral vision, so he was able to keep an eye on her without being too noticeable. Now the only thing he had to do was wait and watch.
He sat at his table and observed those around him, making guesses as to their occupations and hobbies based on their clothing and what they carried with them. He listened in on their conversations and learned who Ms Penny Youngman was currently sleeping with, what the foreman of the Smith Dockyard was doing to combat theft, and who the local flushermen were campaigning for in the coming election. At one point, a woman came in, her eyes clearly red from crying, and rushed over to the hooded figure in the corner. After a brief but intense discussion, the hooded figure began to deal out the cards, flipping them over in a well-rehearsed pattern. They were too far away for Martin to see or hear anything clearly, but he could see the woman’s shoulders slump in relief. She shook the hooded figure's hand in a gesture of thanks and gave her some of the coins from her wallet. She left without even looking at anyone else in the bar, but with a taller posture and a smile on her face.
One drink became two, and soon became three as the bar gradually filled up with patrons. Martin was beginning to idly wonder if he had gotten the wrong bar when at last the door opened, and Aelar walked in. Martin did his best to look at Aelar as he would any other stranger entering the bar and then let his eyes move along to the next point of interest. He gazed over the crowd for a moment, noticing a man was currently sitting in front of the hooded figure, gesticulating passionately, before returning his eyes to his beer. This one had been the skimpiest pour of the lot and was already half empty.
When he looked up again, he glanced toward where he assumed Aelar would be, only for the spot to be empty. He glanced toward the bar, wondering if he had gotten a drink first, but again he couldn’t spot Aelar. He continued scanning the room as inconspicuously as he could. The room had filled out for sure, but it wasn’t that large a room, and there was no reason he couldn’t find Aelar in a crowd this size. He downed the rest of his beer and turned to the bar for a refill, giving himself an excuse to get up and look around more actively. The man he had previously spotted in front of the hooded figure was still there, now fixatedly watching the figure deal out the cards. Martin repeated the same routine of handing over his coin to the bartender and waiting for his beer, this time to his surprise receiving the largest pour of the night. However, he barely noticed as he was still unable to locate Aelar.
Had he gone to the toilet? Martin briefly wondered if he should make his own way there to check as he made his way back to his table. The man in front of the hooded figure slumped forward in defeat. The figure seemingly said a few words of comfort to him, as he slowly picked himself up and fished some coins out of his wallet. As he made his way to the door, Aelar suddenly appeared, as if from thin air, in front of the hooded figure. Martin could only guess that he used some Cosmic ability to do so. He made a mental note to add it to the list of things to ask about later.
The hooded figure seemed unalarmed to have another visitor so soon and calmly collected her cards as Aelar began to speak. Martin sat down at his table and noticed a spider had made its way down from the ceiling since he left. The spider disregarded his presence and continued to spin a web across the top of the table. Martin spared it just a glance before looking back up towards Aelar, but he found himself drawn to the spider again. Why was it spinning its web right on the flat table? There was little chance of it catching any prey here, and even the most poorly maintained of bars would have their tables wiped at least once a night. However, the spider continued unperturbed, spinning its web with a rhythm Martin found hypnotic.
He glanced up once more to see Aelar and the hooded figure locked in conversation and then looked back down to the spider. The structure of the web had already been outlined, and now the spider was filling it in. Martin watched as it went around and around, the brown wood of the table gradually obscured by the grey of the web, running like yarn through one of Boudica’s sewing projects. Slowly, he began to lose sight of the rest of the room as the web seemed to take up the entirety of his vision. In the back of his mind, he could tell something was off, but he was reluctant to take any of his attention from the web. It seemed so soft and welcoming, like the finest silk worn by the Queen. His hand left the mug of his beer and reached toward the web.
After what felt like an eternity, his fingers made contact. The spider, until now driven single-mindedly toward completing its task, stopped spinning and rotated its body suddenly to face Martin's fingers. At that moment, the spell was broken, and Martin knew he had messed up. He stared at the spider, and gazing into its myriad tiny eyes, he almost imagined he could see his reflection in them. Martin slowly tensed the fingers of his left hand, ready to pull back his right and summon the faceless dagger to strike at the web. Just as he had made up his mind to do so, the spider lept, impossibly fast, and landed on his hand. Its fangs found flesh. The room spun and soon faded to black.
