Tarlest was right—the Prince’s Arms was impossible to miss, with the golden sabers crossed above the door and the half-orc doorman sporting a black-and-green turban and tunic. The doorman didn’t smile as I approached, likely because I was still dressed in my snakeskin armor, but he opened the door for me. I tipped him three gold, and he beamed as though I was royalty.

Inside, the common area was exactly what I’d expected. Aristocratic figures in fine robes stood beside merchants in silk and mysterious figures in dark leather armor. Fifty different conversations were taking place around me, and several people danced near a lute player dressed in muslin. I wanted to learn as much as I could about the city, but my first priority was securing a room.

The bartender, wearing the same black-and-green tunic as the doorman, watched the dancers with a faraway look, nodding his head with the music. He was at least two feet taller than I was and twice my weight. When I approached, he looked down at me with bleary eyes.

I reached for my purse. “I’d like a room. One night, please.”

The bartender kept watching the dancers. “Ten gold.”

That seemed expensive, but this was the finest tavern in Encelas, so I set ten gold coins on the counter. The bartender took my money and reached for one of the iron keys hanging on the wall. Then he got a better look at me and shook as though wakened from sleep. He blinked twice, then his eyes came into sharp focus. Apparently, something about me was rather interesting—even more interesting than the dancers. He replaced the iron key on the wall and took a silver key instead. Then he cleared his throat.

“I’m sure the Baron’s Suite will suffice for one as illustrious as yourself. Just down the hall behind me, second-to-last door on the right.”

“Thank you. Why are you giving me the Baron’s Suite?”

The bartender smiled. “At the Prince’s Arms, we strive to make foreigners welcome. And you’ve just come from Raven’s Rest, haven’t you?”

“Why yes!” I smiled, trying to look impressed instead of deeply concerned. “How did you know that?”

The bartender tapped the side of his head. “I have a good ear for accents, and the Raven’s Rest accent is quite distinct.”

No one I’d met in Raven’s Rest had any accent, and if the bartender had been fully awake and sober, he probably would have thought of a better lie. But rather than challenge him, I took the silver key.

“You’re very perceptive,” I said. “I don’t suppose you’d know where an adventurer can find work, would you?”

“The wizards at the Enclave are always looking for help. For other contracts, look no further than our Mission Board.”

The bartender beckoned to a section of the west wall covered with tacked slips of paper.

“Thanks again.” I nodded, still smiling.

I approached the Mission Board and read through the bulletins. There were reports of burglary, complaints involving masked thieves, and pleas for the return of missing relatives. A handful of official bulletins offered to pay handsomely for information related to murders of prominent citizens. Other messages begged for the return of heirlooms and other possessions stolen from murder victims.

None of the job notices grabbed my attention. On a hunch, I turned my head to the side and spotted the bartender watching me intently. A moment later, he looked away and faced the dancers.

What’s going on? Had the bartender been notified by the King’s Guard of my arrival? If so, he would have said something. If he’d been contacted by other people I’d met, such as Orla or the wizards of the Enclave, he wouldn’t behave so strangely.

My blood froze. What if Palomir had told one of his contacts that I was coming to Encelas? He knew what I looked like, he knew what armor I wore, and he knew I was from Raven’s Rest. He could have given out my description, along with a reward for my head. He’d paid a clan of gnolls to rob travelers on the Londorin Road, so he’d have no trouble hiring an assassin in Encelas.

Presuming so much from a bartender’s odd behavior seemed paranoid, but it was far from impossible. Palomir wanted me dead, and he seemed to have friends in low places. I could think of other explanations for the bartender’s attention to my armor and his statement about my arrival from Raven’s Rest. But why would he give me the key to the Baron’s Suite?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I decided to assume that something foul was afoot—I had to move quickly.

⚔

A throng of drunken revelers joined me in the corridor. As I approached my room, a man in a silk suit staggered toward the room diagonally across from the Baron’s Suite. He was having obvious trouble unlocking the door.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Can I help you?”

Once more, the man tried to insert his key in the lock but struck the door jamb. “The locks on these d-doors are moving on their own. I shall have a word with the p-p-proprietor!”

“Why don’t you let me try?”

The man let out an annoyed sigh and then handed me his key. I unlocked the door and followed him into his room, where he had two trunks, a large oval mirror, and a wardrobe taller than I was. This was a man who cared deeply about clothing.

“Thank you, stranger, for your assistance,” the man said, “but now, I think, it’s time for you to—”

“I need a favor myself,” I interrupted. “You see, I’ve been invited to a wedding feast, and I can’t possibly attend dressed like this. We’re about the same size. Could I borrow a change of clothes? I’ll return them promptly.”

“What?” The man looked aghast. “Allow a… peasant to wear my clothes? Absurd! If my father was here, he’d have you f-f-flogged! I say—”

The man’s eyes closed, and he fell to the ground, snoring like a warthog. Taking him under the shoulders, I heaved him onto the bed. Then I searched through the wardrobe and helped myself to a white silk shirt, royal-blue pantaloons, and a crimson hat with gold trim.

After changing, I tipped the hat so that its brim covered Venabel’s mark. I looked ridiculous, but that didn’t matter. What was important was that no one in Encelas could possibly recognize me.

I hid my armor and weapons, and then moved the oval mirror toward the room’s entrance. I cracked open the door just enough to give me a clear view of the Baron’s Suite. Once everything was in position, I took up a chair and waited.

Merchants and nobles walked through the hallway in various degrees of intoxication. After over an hour, a man dressed as a jester stopped near the door of the Baron’s Suite. He had jet-black hair and copper skin and looked like many of the other revelers in the common room. But as I watched him through the mirror, I noticed that he was positioning his feet so that his footsteps made no sound. Gorlis would have been impressed.

The jester inserted a silver key into the door of the Baron’s Suite and unlocked it slowly. Then he removed a strange dagger from his pants—a thin black blade with a curled hilt and only one sharp edge. Without a sound, he opened the door and dashed into the room. Moments later, he was back in the corridor. I couldn’t see his face, but I had a feeling he was upset.

Now it was my turn to be stealthy. As the jester walked away, I left the aristocrat’s room and followed, keeping at least fifteen feet between us. I stayed out of sight as he accosted the bartender. He spoke in a whisper, but he was so angry that I had no trouble making out the words:

“The target isn’t in the Baron’s Suite! Did you see him leave? Where did he go?”

“Dunno,” said the bartender. “He might have joined a party in another room. Happens all the time. But he was here, wearing that foul-smelling scaled armor. Even said he was from Raven’s Rest.”

There was silence for a time. Then the jester spoke in a voice of controlled rage,

“Very well. If you see him again, contact us.”

“Sure thing.”

Staggering like a drunkard, I followed the jester toward the exit. As far as I could tell, neither he, the bartender, nor anyone else at the tavern was paying any attention to me.

I stayed at least thirty feet behind the jester as the two of us walked out of the Prince’s Arms and into the night. He walked briskly but never broke into a run, so I had no difficulty keeping up.

I followed him through a long thoroughfare and down a chain of cobbled streets. There were several other wealthy pedestrians, though no one seemed to notice either of us. To all appearances, he was just a jester and I was a tipsy aristocrat.

According to the Local Map, we were entering a region of the city known as the Slums. There were fewer people on the road, and most wore simple peasant garb. Others appeared to belong to a gang and looked ready for a fight. I threw away my hat to look less conspicuous and slowed my gait, lengthening the distance between my quarry and I to about forty feet.

This part of the city was no place for a jester, and I found myself wondering what my assailant would do if he was attacked. I needn’t have worried. His clothes glowed for a moment, and then the multicolored shirt transformed into a gray smock, and the bright yellow pants transformed into dark breeches. He also grew taller and more muscular. In a matter of moments, my jester had transformed into a regular street thug.

I stopped walking. My assassin was a shapeshifter. I’d nearly been killed when I’d confronted Palomir without knowing what he was, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. I turned back and headed toward the tavern.

⚔

I returned to the Prince’s Arms around midnight. Rather than risk another encounter in the Baron’s Suite, I went to the room of the still-snoring aristocrat and retrieved my armor and weapons. Still dressed in my finery, I headed out the front door and addressed the doorman.

“Pardon me,” I said, slurring the words while I handed over three gold pieces, “could you tell me, ah, where I could find the second-best tavern in the city?”

The doorman pocketed my gold. “That would be the Thirsty Cat. Not as refined as the Prince’s Arms but a pleasant spot all the same.”

I thanked him, found the Thirsty Cat on the Local Map, and made my way to the tavern. Six gold bought me a room, and I managed to spend a tranquil night without dealing with strange bartenders or shapeshifting assassins.