The trouble was that he found himself once again without occupation. He had secured lodgings for the party, both people and pack animals. He had seen to the procurement of certain supplies. He had unloaded the more valuable components of his cargo from his cart, making certain that they were safely stored in a lockbox in the room assigned him. There was work to be done that could not be done in this town unobserved, the secrets of the Formori (and the lyrium) to be guarded closely. When he quickly ran out of assigned tasks, the Tranquil, at a loss in this strange environment, found that he truly did not know what to do with himself. He sat quietly in his room for a time, pondering a question recently asked of him for which he still had no answer. What did he prefer to do? At the keep, he had spent his new-found “personal time” sparring in the yard. Would anyone spar with him here? That was a useful pursuit. Productive. Yet his companions would still be at large in Lothering, and surely had their own concerns.
Still undecided, Constans had wandered downstairs to the bar. The inn was very crowded, given the time of day. Or perhaps it was normal, to begin drinking this early outside of the tower. Certainly inside the tower, if anyone were to become as drunk as many of these people they would do it surreptitiously, and generally in the evening. Constans considered that he had no reasonable frame of reference, and adjusted his observations to suit. The inn was, in fact, very crowded for any time of day.
He stood by the stairs for a time, watching the crowd with vague uncertainty, waiting for any of his companions to return. The establishment’s patrons largely ignored the placid young man standing alone to the side of the room (a virtue of his state of dress; a loose-fitting, plain shirt, breeches and boots. He did not give it a second thought one way or another, but had he still worn his brown robes, surely a glance or two more would have been directed his way), the crowd quickly growing larger and more raucious before him. It had not escaped his notice that the bar-room was not very… clean. There only seemed to be two persons seeing to the business, the man whom Constans took to be the proprietor from their earlier transaction, and a serving girl. They were clearly overtaxed. Soiled dishware and cutlery lay out uncollected, new patrons seating themselves at dirty tables. The floor evidently had not been swept in some time, given the strata of detritus forming underfoot.
It occurred to Constans gradually that, surely, the proprietor would welcome additional help. His current staff was not sufficient. With the calm collection of the Tranquil, satisfied that he had found a task for himself, Constans wandered into the crowd and began to pick up. In the growing hubbub, he managed to pass strangely unobserved.
A few minutes later the harried serving girl, making a brief foray into the kitchen to grab a new pitcher, was shocked to discover that the wash-tub had been filled with dishes by an unseen hand, as if by magic.
By the time of Rhocanth and Thais’ arrival the room was packed, and Constans found himself productively engaged; he did not notice the entrance he had once waited so dilligently for. Presently he was gathering abandoned and empty mugs, weaving between tables with a strange, graceless caution that inadvertently helped the young man blend in with the drunks surrounding him. Here was a mug, still a finger’s worth of ale in the bottom but looking quite abandoned. Constans picked it up, and began to walk away.
A hand, large and calloused, vaguely sticky, slipped around his bicep and twisted roughly. “That’uns my drink,” the drunk scowled as he manhandled Constans into turning to look at him, his dark, unkempt hair shadowing his eyes. “Warn’t done with it.” His gaze flicked sourly down at the three mugs already in Constans’ hands, as though considering that the boy had plenty enough already, and probably out to share the wealth.
The Tranquil-in-disguise only blinked into the blast of ferment-soured breath. “I thought it abandoned. You may have it back.”