Swapped Fate

35: The Underquake.

Tristan didn't return home, and neither was he present in the morning. Back at Fairburn Manor, I had told the family he had to leave abruptly because something urgent came up. According to them, I had no idea of his whereabouts or what this emergency was. 

They all seemed calm about his absence in the morning, which wasn't all that surprising. To them, it was a common occurrence for the rebellious Tristan to disappear and reappear at any time he wished be it hours, days or even weeks without telling anybody.

"You're lucky he at least told you something," Madam Felicity said to me over breakfast.

I wasn't satisfied. I was even more unsettled when he didn't show as the sun crossed its mid point in the sky, and we had lunch without him. He had intended to return the previous night. Not being able to must have meant that something unexpected occurred, right?

And that is how I came to stand in front of Two Foxes tavern at five o'clock in the evening. I needed to know where he was and what happened to him.

Pushing the doors open, I ambled inside.

It was bigger than I expected, with a wide bar and wooden platform amidst it meant for performances. Tables surrounded by chairs littered the floor in a disorderly fashion, some of them hung by their seats on top of the tables. Light streamed in through small high windows whose curtains were only halfway open. 

The only sound was that of a broom brushing against the floor as a lanky man dressed in dull, scroungy clothes and a stained apron swept up the place, occasionally lifting the chairs on top of the tables.

The other people in the tavern were at the bar. A big bald man stood behind it while a woman sat on a high stool across from him, hunched over the counter. As I approached the bar, the woman's back straightened and I noticed her furry ears. She was a greftyr.

"Er, excuse me..." I started, looking between her and the man.

She kept her eyes on the wooden mug in her hands while the man cocked his head at me.

 Despite being bald, he had a red stubble and a worrisome amount of body hair across his arm and chest, which was party revealed through his low-neck tunic. A string of white pearls settled around his neck, and three silver rings were on each hand that rested on the counter. His small eyes assessed me from head to toe.

"And what's a dame like ya doing in a dingy place like this?" he asked, a lisp to his voice. "Not here for a drink, I presume."

The place was dingy. The tavern was located in the part of the city known as The Drey. It was known for its cheap overcrowded markets, less-than-stellar business establishments and slums. It was also where the blacksmiths and carpenters operated, although along a different street than I was. With my clothes and shoes, I surely stood out.

"Good day to you sir," I greeted. "Indeed I am not here for a drink, but information."

Interest gleamed in his eyes. "What kinda information?"

I stepped closer to the counter. "I'm looking for someone. A man. He came here yesterday before night. Tall, dark brown eyes and hair. He was wearing..." I squinted as I pictured Tristan's attire. "A white button-down shirt, dark grey trousers and tie. Though the tie is always loose whenever he wears it." I rolled my eyes at his shabby tendencies. "He came looking for information as well."

I watched the man and leaned forward in expectancy, hoping my description rang a bell. The man's expression didn't change, so I elaborated some more.

"Something about a dwarf?"

Still, there was no sign of recognition in his face.

I leaned even closer and lowered my voice to a whisper. "With wings...?"