The Chronicles of Nir

17 | A Puzzling Map

As a source of information, The Poked Bear disappointed them; however, as an establishment in which to become quickly and thoroughly inebriated, it more than delivered.

They ordered pints of ale to begin, and after finishing their third round, Eri tried his luck and requested "the finest wine on offer." The best that could be said of the dusty bottle brought to their table (which had certainly not come from Thaddeus Vine's cellar) was that it was strong.

When Eri changed tack and asked to speak with Mousey, the server said he didn't know anyone by that name, but that he'd be happy to exchange the bottle for 'the other one' if it wasn't to Eri's liking. This told them all they needed to know about the Bear's wine selection, and the server's genuine confusion convinced them that 'Mousey' was a dead end.

They then proceeded to drink the bottle of wine and ordered another. By the time they finished the second bottle, they were both smashed, and Tallon had only a vague memory of a singing contest, which he thought he might have won, and of stumbling back to Thaddeus' house at dawn.

"I don't suppose you brought any tonics to settle the stomach," Tallon remarked as he and Eri prepared to enter the sewers the next evening. "I think I vomited my entire intestinal tract this morning."

Tonight, the pair dressed in homespun threads. If Eri so much as dared to wear Tallon's best clothes for what they were tasked to do, he really would stick his leather boot up the princeling's arse.

Eri reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder and handed Tallon a small brown bottle. "Not exactly," he said, "but this mild stimulant should help."

As Tallon examined the bottle, Eri rubbed the tender bruise over his right brow, which he'd received that morning. Finding the wood-elf leaning over him and attempting to remove his clothes, Tallon had gotten the wrong idea, sat up abruptly, and head-butted him. Eri remained a little sore over the incident—quite literally.

"Anyway," Eri said under his breath as a carriage rattled past on the road above the culvert, "are you certain you are up for this? There is no shame in staying behind if you are ill."

Despite the evening chill, sweat matted Tallon's hair and rolled down his neck. Catching his breath had been difficult since he'd started dreaming of looming darkness. The whispers had become louder, especially at night when all was quiet, save for Eri's snores and Scamp's occasional escapades.

"Let's just be done with this," Tallon mumbled. A chill breeze penetrated his warm cloak, making him shiver. "We can rest later."

Having little choice but to take Tallon at his word, Eri shrugged and unhooked a short crowbar from his belt. He approached the grate covering the drain and waited until a noisy carriage rattled along the road overhead before he snapped the rusty lock clean off. Rust encrusted the hinges as well, and Eri waited for another carriage to cover the inevitable racket, but the road remained empty. The midnight bell had tolled a half hour before, and the only people still about were the lonely guards patrolling the docks.

Several long warehouses lined the river's edge, built half on land and half on stilts above the water. The largest warehouse had the Tremesian crest painted on the side, and it was for this they aimed.

"Check for guards," Eri commanded, indicating that Tallon should climb the steep bank to the road above. "We'll have to risk some noise."

Tying a bandanna over his face to block the overwhelming stench, Tallon did a quick survey. They were alone.

He scrambled back down to where Eri waited, and whispered, "We're clear."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Eri threw his weight against the bar. The hinges broke free of their bolts, and he rolled the grate aside.