The Black Chapel
V
Taverns and their drunkenness still abound
in the city of Bridgeville. Inside is often the center of a raucous
chaos of drunks and song and empty merriment; and it is within taverns
that thieves commonly ply their trade. The Tavern of the Dancing
Maid is a haven, the oldest tavern in the city, and a long-time favorite
of mine.
As one mounts the groaning
front steps the noise and human stench assails the senses like a fist.
It no longer affects me, but to the newcomer it is a powerful force.
Welcoming warmth emanates from the eternally open door, and soft light
enters the street like a beacon in the night. Inside, the air is
heavy with smoke and filled with noise, but the atmosphere is always warm
and inviting. The perfect tavern.
The Tavern of the Dancing
Maid has been a family practice since before even I was alive. The
current barkeep – I have known more than twenty generations of the Robins
– recognizes me the moment I walk in the door, and knows better than to
make any acknowledgement. I swiftly and silently take my customary
seat in the furthest, darkest corner.
From this seat in this corner
I have seen more deals made, tales told, song sung and fights begun than
I could tell in your lifetime. As the Master Thief of the Bridgeville
Thieves’ Guild I have always found it wise to know what is happening on
the street. This is how I do so. The flood of humanity – scum
and noble alike – flows through this sole tavern, it seems.
It was no surprise that
in this tavern Minj began his work for Nicholas. A pity, but no surprise.
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VII VIII
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