Masquerades - Kate Novak [25]
Blais House did not advertise as an inn, but when they walked in the front door, as Mintassan had told them to do, they were greeted politely, albeit with some surprise at their appearance, by the night manager. The inn was as elegant as any Alias had ever seen. In the foyer, the inlaid tile floor gleamed in the light of a great crystal chandelier. Alias suspected that Blais House did not ordinarily cater to adventurers, but at the mention of Mintassan's name the night manager became instantly cordial.
The price of a room was surprisingly reasonable, causing the swordswoman to wonder what it might have cost had they not used Mintassan's name. Alias slid four gold coins across the front desk.
The night manager, a slight man dressed in a red-and-white silk tabard and black hose, bid them to follow him as he picked up a gold-plated candelabra. He led them up a white marble staircase and down a corridor made soundproof by its plush red carpeting. At the end of the corridor he produced a key, unlocked the door on the right, and led them in. Setting the candelabra down on a table, he assured them that should they want anything
at all, they had only to pull the bell cord gently. The bath, he informed them as he stepped out of the room, was at the end of the hall. Then he pulled the door shut and left them alone.
The room was spacious; the expanse of white plaster walls broken only by idealized watercolors of the city. The ceiling timbers were whitewashed and decorated with painted garlands of flowers. The fireplace was lined with local ceramic tile. The beds had thick, comfortable mattresses with heavy down filling and soft sheets tightly woven of Mulhorand cotton. The great windows were made of green-stained splinter-glass set in the patterns of trees and opened out over the entrance of the inn. The armoire was Sembian, the pair of comfortable reading chairs Waterdhavian, and beneath the beds were Cormyrian-forged copper chamber pots with porcelain lining. A small bookshelf held several well-thumbed popular reads, including Aurora's Catalogueand a complete set of Volo's Guides.
All the luxury was lost on Alias, who sat down on the edge of her bed, shucked off her boots by stepping on the heels, let her sword belt slide to the floor, fell back on the bed, and was softly snoring, still wearing her chain mail, in under three minutes.
Dragonbait locked the door and windows, ascertained that there were no secret passages in the walls or assassins in the armoire, and tucked the case with the crystal ball under the bed. He flipped a corner of the coverlet over Alias's shoulder and blew out the candelabra. Lying in the dark on his bed, he prayed that if they could not be delivered soon from this city, at least they be delivered safely.
The saurial always slept lightly, so it was he who awakened at the sound of someone knocking. It was a soft, hesitant rapping, not on the door, but on the door frame-as if the knocker did not really want to be responsible for waking up a skilled swordswoman and her sharp-clawed companion.
Alias muttered a curse and turned over, pulling a pillow over her head in an attempt to rescue a few more minutes of sleep. The sun was shining outside, but Dragonbait was still cautious. When he rose, he picked up his sword before shuffling to the door. He then concentrated his shensight on what lay beyond the door. Feeling rather foolish, he set his sword aside, slid back the bolt, and opened the door halfway.
"Murk?" he said. Alias had tried to get him to pronounce some basic Realms words, but "what," had been impossible, and the saurial's "yes," came out a sibilant hiss that sounded like a dissolving vampire caught in an open field at dawn. In the end, he answered everything with meaningless sounds like "murk," relying on inflection to convey his meaning.
A half-elf