Before leaving, Henrietta had given me a satchel stocked with three stamina tonics, two health tonics, and six lockpicks. I didn't ask where she had managed to get the lockpicks from—the woman's resourcefulness really shouldn't have been surprising anymore—but I was happy to have them.
The streets were bustling with people as I set out through Merchant's Row. Women and children rushed every direction, some ducking into shops as others exited, their arms loaded with crates of food, clothes, and other items. I even saw a crowd men and women arguing with a baker near the part of the city where Merchant's Row and the Eastern Quarter met.
"I'm sorry," the baker was saying as I walked past. "We're out of bread for the day. Come back in the morning and we'll have more. I promise."
"We can smell it baking," a man in the crowd cried out. "We need to eat!"
I continued past as the argument grew louder behind me, the sound of a slamming door echoing through the evening.
I shook my head slowly, the sounds fading into the rest of the noise of the city. There was tension in the air already. Something I hadn't ever felt in any of the cities since the empire's establishment. Despite what the [Hero] had claimed about us, and the ways I had failed my people, I had never made them prisoners. Not even when they had been rebelling against me.
As I passed into the Western Quarter, the tension grew thicker. Men hurried along, their hands stuffed in their pockets or behind their backs. Women rushed past, their heads low, refusing to make eye contact with anyone they passed. Guards wandered the streets, too, their eyes examining everyone that passed them by.
I caught glimpses of a man being pushed into an alley by a couple of guards. "Please," he cried as the guards slammed him against the wall. "I'm not one of them."
"Keep it down," one of the city guards ordered. The man's pleas that he were innocent fell on deaf ears, ignored as others turned away, trying not to get caught up in it.
I gnashed my teeth together as a patrol turned around the corner ahead of me. Trying not to look too out of place, I ducked into an alleyway and used it to cut to the next street over, turning back into the hurrying crowds. I hadn't changed my clothes before leaving Henrietta's—sadly, she didn't have anything that would really fit me since she was even smaller than I was—and I didn't want to get stopped for any of the bloodstains I might have missed on my shirt.
A few more turns and I was standing at the door to Will's. I looked around once more, to make sure I hadn't been followed, and then stepped up, knocking lightly.
Nobody answered.
I tried again and was surprised when still, nobody came to the door. I tested the handle and narrowed my eyes when the lock clicked and the door swung open slightly. My hand found the handle of the sword I had re-acquired at Henrietta's, and I pushed it open the rest of the way.
"Will? Irinda?" I asked as I pressed into the front room.
The curtains that led to the bedroom were ripped, hanging halfway from their mounting. The couch—where I'd left Irinda the last time I'd seen her—was overturned, and the chair that Will had sat in was upside down as well, on the opposite side of the room from where it should have been.
It looked like a storm had come barreling through the house and left nothing unscathed. I moved into the bedroom next, finding the sheets ripped from the bed, and the mattress torn as if someone had taken knives to it. The drawers had been ripped out of the wardrobes and lay shattered across the stone floor. Dark red stained the floor around the bed, too. I leaned down and pressed a finger to the stain. It was as dry as the rest of the stone around it.
The flames of anger burned within me at finding the house in such disarray. “I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, my thoughts instantly turning to one of the two most likely possibilities that I could think of as I kneeled there, inspecting the destruction.
Either the city guards had caught on to Will and the role he had played in the shipmaster's death, or Brin had figured out where Irinda was and had come looking. Neither option was good, and there wasn't much I could do about the first if that was the case. What would have happened if the city guards had found Irinda hiding out here, too? Would she have been implicated in the crimes that Will had committed?
There was a time I would have said no. That the government I had built would never toss innocent people in prison. But now, having seen the world from humanity’s perspective?
I shook my head. Breaking Will out of prison would be an entire ordeal, one that I didn't have the resources or the time to deal with at the moment. It was better to rule out the easier option to disprove; that Brin had found them.
Standing, I made my way back out into the street, starting toward the Eastern Quarter. The first moon was higher in the sky now, which meant the second would start to peek its head over the horizon before long.
I needed to hurry.
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I was soon sprinting through the streets, weaving between the final dredges of the crowds rushing to get inside. A couple of guards spotted me, but I ignored them, taking a quick series of turns to lose them in the back alleys.
It didn't take me long to reach the street where The Slumbering Drake waited. The three-story inn rose up at the end of the block. It had become a stain on my city. A stain I needed to get rid of.
The street outside was still busy, last-minute travelers no doubt making their way inside, looking for a place to rest. They pushed against each other, two broad-shouldered guards on either side of the door holding most of them back. This lockdown would be good for someone like Brin, whose inn normally wasn't good enough for most people to take refuge in it.
I eyed the front of the building, looking up at the windows. There were four windows situated along the front wall, two on each of the higher levels. All four might be viable options for entering the place, but trying to scale the front of the building would surely lead to my discovery and an entire rank of city guards breathing down my neck. Not exactly good if I wanted to take the business over.
That left only one way up. The back.
Ignoring the crowd out front, I turned and slipped into an alleyway a few buildings down, using it to reach the narrow stretch of path that ran along the back of the building. There was maybe a three or four meter distance between the wall and the buildings, which I thought I might be able to climb if there were enough handholds to jump between.
I eyed the back of the building, finding the window to my room. It was a good distance up, and there weren’t any good handholds around I that I could see. The fact the building was so far away from the outer wall of the city also meant scaling it would be a bit too difficult. I might be able to do it, but if I did, I’d likely be too tired to actually do anything inside.
So I came up with another plan.
Like most businesses in the city, The Slumbering Drake had a rear exit. It was mostly used for members of the inn’s staff, and while I’d known that it existed, I also knew it opened right into the kitchen area. That made sneaking in through it exceptionally risky. But, since I couldn’t reliably climb up the side of the building like a spider, I had to settle for risky if I wanted to get inside. It was still better than walking through the front door and staring Brin in the face.
I crossed the short distance to the door and tried the handle. Of course it was locked. I pulled out one of the lockpicks that Henrietta had packed for me and fumbled with it, slipping it into the hole after only a moment of struggling. I kneeled down, listening closely at the door handle. The lock clicked after several seconds of moving the pick around.
Lockpicking +1
I smiled at the notification and dismissed it.
I opened the door slowly, peering around the edge of the door for any signs of anyone. The kitchen was surprisingly empty despite the large crowd that had been growing outside the inn. The inn must be understaffed for the amount of people they had coming in. I could use that to may advantage.
Spotting a pile of aprons and other clothes in a basket on the ground, another smile crept across my face.
I closed the door behind me, I moved into the kitchen, grabbing an apron and a clean shirt from the pile. I pulled off my old shirt quickly, stuffing it under the other clothes, and then pulled the new one on and tied the apron around my waist. I also unhooked my sword’s sheath from my belt and tucked it behind a barrel.
New Skill: Disguise +1
That was a new one. I suppose it made sense, given I was a thief. Being able to use disguises was probably a boon for someone like that.
Someone like me.
I mentally dismissed the message and grabbed one of the serving trays that I’d seen Irinda carry around before and started piling filled mugs onto it. I wobbled a little when I first picked it up, but after a moment I seemed to gain my balance a bit, turning my footsteps toward the front of the inn.
The front room was packed with people. I could still see some of the rougher looking men that I’d noticed the first nights I’d stayed here, but they were far outnumbered by others. Some were dressed nicely, sporting tied scarf-like cloths around their necks, as well as nicely tailored coats. Others had the worn attire of workers and merchants.
I kept the tray high in front of my face as I passed out of the doors and beyond Brin’s counter, where the balding man was busy chatting with a couple of would-be patrons. I passed out some of the drinks when asked for them, and scanned the room for any signs of Irinda. I didn’t see her face in the crowd anywhere.
Where would he keep her if he had taken her? Forcing her to work made sense, that was what he had always done it seemed. But what if he wanted to teach her a lesson?
I ran through what I knew about The Slumbering Drake in my mind. It was an old building—almost as old as the city. It needed storage, which meant they had needed to dig out a large basement when building it. The rooms at the top of the third floor were far enough away from the main room so as not to draw attention to most things. Watching someone through a peephole was one thing. Keeping them from screaming out for help was another.
I skirted back around the room and pushed back through the kitchen, careful to once more avoid Brin’s gaze as I passed. There was another woman in the back this time, filling up more mugs with ale from a large barrel that was situated along one of the walls.
“Oi,” she said as her eyes lighted on me. “Don’t remember you. What’s your name?”
“Ari,” I responded without hesitating, trying to put on the same accent I’d often heard Irinda use. “They brought me on to help with the rush.”
The woman eyed me for a long moment before nodding. “Well, don’t be standing around. You know how the master of the inn is when we dawdle.”
I nodded to her in agreement. “Just need to get something from the basement first,” I explained. “Where’s that at?”
The woman let out a sigh and pointed toward a stack of crates, a look of suspicion on her face. “Careful with the steps. They’s needed replacing for a few years.” She loaded up a couple more mugs on her tray and then she was gone.
I dropped my tray off and grabbed my sword before making my way toward the stack she’d pointed out. Sure enough, there was a single door behind it.
I pulled it open, the hinges creaking in protest, and peered down the narrow stairwell. A faint flicker of light danced at the bottom, painting the wooden stairs in a strange hue.
Ignoring the uneasy feeling building in my gut, I slinked down the stairs, hand tight around my sword hilt. I didn’t draw it. But I was ready to. The wood creaked beneath my footsteps, removing any chance of sneaking up on anyone that might be down in the basement.
As I drew closer to the bottom, the stale scent in the air shifted. It became heavy with the scent of dried blood and waste. I crinkled my nose. Whatever was down here, it couldn’t be good. I stopped a few stairs up from the bottom—the low ceiling cut off any view I might have of the room beyond, and I took a deep breath against my better judgement.
Hoping that nobody was waiting for me beyond the downward curve of the roof, I rushed down the stairs. The smell grew stronger with every step, assaulting my nose.
My feet met stone at the bottom, and I reflexively drew my sword, gaze landing on the hulking figure tied to the stone column in the center of the room.