Threshing Floor

A Drink with the Dead, part 1

From the outside, the Bait and Hook looked like any of the 20 other grubby watering holes clustered around the docks. A closer look revealed some odd differences. The soot stained windows glowed faintly from the firelight inside just like a normal tavern, but the light was tinged green instead of the familiar yellow-orange of whale fat candles. Most oddly, the boisterous laughter of drunk sailors punctuated by the shouts and screams of frequent bar fights was completely absent. But the eerie calm that seemed to settle over the area around the overly thick oak door didn't seem to deter many would-be patrons. In fact, a keen observer would be struck by the feeling that more salty deck rats entered through it's deathly silent portal than ever came out.

Dania was just such a keen observer. She had heard rumors about the bar across the cobblestone street and it had piqued her interest. She had lingered, inconspicuously, half a block away at an apothecary that specialized in cures for maladies of a "social" nature. Those that happened to cast a glance her way assumed that she must be a street walker. This close to the docks and Rat Town, working girls were certainly no rarity. Her well-made dress and overall bearing didn't support that assumption but there were a few higher class girls to be found around Fleet Street under the shadow of the Butcher's Bridge. One look at her face discouraged any further inspection. While she could be easily considered a beautiful woman, the look in her eyes was so disconcerting that only the most confident, strong willed could meet it for long. That gaze was now locked on the Bait and Hook. She was certain that she had found what she had been looking for. Thresh......the Chain Warden....was close enough she could almost taste him.

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She could barely maintain a dignified walk as she left the shop she had occupied for two days and crossed the glorified alleyway to open the door and walk inside. Once inside the Bait and Hook, there was an immediate change in the ambiance. Men and women laughed, and danced, and generally enjoyed each other's company. Food and drink appeared seemingly endlessly and the lack of coin was never an issue. Faint music, slightly discordant but not unpleasant, hung in the air. It was inviting enough that almost nobody noticed, nor cared, about the warning signs that not all was as it seemed. Dania was not fooled but nor was she alarmed. If anything she was encouraged and spurred on by the subtle indications of the true nature of the property's owner.

The mark of his presence was all over the main room of the tavern. The greenish haze that seemed to be just at the corners of your vision, but could never quite be perceived directly. The oppressive atmosphere that, even though filled with music and laughter and spirits, could never be quite escaped.There was a feeling in the tavern like the distant ache of a past loss, well faded, but never entirely forgotten. This certainly had boosted the prosperity of the tavern, for even those who enter in a jolly mood, quickly felt driven to seek solace in alcohol and easy company. There was laughter, certainly, but always tinged at the edges, as if a bit frayed with sadness, by regret, by things that could have been done differently. In such a place, solitary souls would gather and very often, go missing. Perhaps it was not entirely accurate to say they went missing because, generally, nobody truly missed them. They were there one day and then gone.

Despite the rough crowd, the tavern itself was not shabby. The furnishings were well appointed and lit by actual crystal chandeliers. The tables were smooth and polished and unmarked by knife scars. The long bar along one side of the large room was a single slab of Ionian hardwood. The chairs were simple but comfortably upholstered. The decor spoke of quiet refinement. Sailors that would normally be given to rowdy brawls were restrained and well behaved. If that wasn't enough to give a newcomer pause, one table in the corner stood out amongst all the other inconsistencies. It was one table in the corner, alone, which was always reserved. And while most of the other tables were dimly lit either by the fire light from the hearth or by the crystal topped candles high above, this one table was lit by a single, solitary lantern that was always burning.