I mentioned I was in the street, and I slunk off to some places where I was sure that there would be ale sold. It is in every city. Once you are familiar with the city, you will find them. Perhaps one day I will show you around Silvergate and how it is truly like. That is, if your mother allows.
The ale took some finding, but there were signs already that all was not well. I curse my folly in not spotting it sooner. The tavern was underground. I suspect that it is a converted basement, but you don’t ask when it is the only tavern in town. I bought my ale at a ridiculous price and settled down to enjoy it. But not soon after, I heard murmuring, and there appeared to be a soft but heated discussion at the bar. There were two men and a woman standing at the bar, arguing with the barkeep. One of them glanced at me.
It was then I felt there was something wrong about the place. My neck always prickles when there is something wrong. These taverns are usually sullen places where everyone keeps to themselves. They are dirty and have very little of furniture. But this tavern was cleaner than most I have been in, and there was light from a fireplace that didn’t make the entire room smoky. It was well kept. Too well kept. I edged out of my seat, but the trio came over quickly and stopped me.
The woman asked if I was Makkre. I denied it immediately. Whenever someone asks if your name belongs to you, deny everything, admit nothing, and make counter accusations. I only got to the second stage when the men grabbed me and hauled me out into the alley.
I shall spare you the details, but it was a particularly intense questioning. I was a little woozy at that time, but I heard them talking, and your mother’s name was mentioned. It was through a haze, but I knew I had to warn your mother. I didn’t think they were going to send your mother flowers. I made a rather hasty escape, but managed to lose them in the city. But they knew where I was staying, and cornered me there just as I was about to make my escape.
I’m rather proud to say that I put up quite the fight, and Tat managed one man on his own. An enraged weasel attacking a man is a sight to see. But there were only the two of us, and there were five of them. I was knocked out and dragged off. I wonder what happened to Tat. I think he escaped. The last look I had of him was a screaming man and a shape under the cloth.