Masquerades - Kate Novak [73]
Guessing that Twig's boss would take the road back into the city, the swordswoman dashed southward, climbed a fence, and cut through the Dhostar stockyards. Two yard hands approached her as she reached the southern stables, obviously intent on bringing her in for trespassing, but after identifying herself, they let her pass without further challenge.
Spotting her quarry heading farther south, the swordswoman cut through the Thorsar stockyards as well. She reached the city wall in time to see Twig's boss heading toward her. She passed through Mulsantir's gate just ahead of the man. As she strolled idly down the main street, the Night Mask passed her, and she followed him through the city. There was just enough foot traffic for her to blend in with the crowd, but not so much that she couldn't keep her eye on her quarry's blond braid. Twig's boss entered a tavern within spitting distance of the Ssemm sheds. The tavern's sign read "The Rotten Root," and pictured a particularly malevolent-looking treant.
Alias adjusted her scabbard so that it could be seen, took a deep breath, and plunged into the tavern's smoky darkness. Her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit common room just in time to see Twig's boss being escorted into a private room in the back by a large man with gnoll-sized biceps.
Alias slid into a booth with a view of the back room door. The muscular man returned to his post a moment later. He wore an apron over his leather armor, leading Alias to believe he served not only as a guard for the Night Masks, but a bouncer for the bar as well.
None of the regulars seemed to give her a second glance, but Alias was quick to establish a reason for her presence. When the barmaid came by to take her order,
Alias help up two fingers, telling the woman she was expecting a friend. Two ales looking suspiciously like harbor water arrived. As the swordswoman sipped at the beverage, she thought harbor water might have been tastier. The barmaid stood waiting for payment, and Alias handed her some copper from a pocket of her boot.
Alias nursed first one drink, then the other, with the diligence of a condemned man lingering over his last meal. Twig's boss spent about five minutes in the back room, then returned to the common room. He ordered an ale and downed it without paying. He was either well-known enough to run up a tab, or the Night Masks had an arrangement with the tavern to serve free refreshments to their collectors. More importantly, Alias noticed that the collector's belt pouch slapped nearly empty against his thigh.
So the watering hole was the next drop-off point for scam and protection operators. Alias remained while Twig's boss disappeared out the tavern door.
Every few minutes, someone would arrive and approach the door to the private room and the guard would escort the person in or, with a jerk of his thumb, make him or her wait in the bar until the previous arrival left. Occasionally someone would leave the room looking chagrined, but most left smiling.
The visitors to the back room were mostly rough-looking men, a scattering of women, and a few children too young to be collectors themselves, no doubt working as runners for the collectors. Save for one dwarf, who muttered a string of curses as he entered and another as he exited, the visitors were all human.
After about a half hour, midway through her second, carefully nursed ale, Alias noticed that the guard let a visitor in before the last had left. Then it happened a second time. Either the master of the back room was keeping them for a reason, Alias realized, or, more likely, there was a back exit.
Alias gladly abandoned the last of her ale and left the tavern just as the guard was escorting a new arrival through the door. She headed right, down the street, counting the buildings until she hit a cross street, then made another right. She slipped down the alley and counted buildings until she'd reached the rear of the Rotten Root. She slowed as she approached.
Ahead of her she spied someone already watching the doorway from