D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch by Robin Wayne Bailey Page A

streets. By noon, there would be a dozen versions, each more fantastic than the last.
    But Garett was supposed to keep it quiet. “Don’t you worry, my little redhead,” he answered with mocking paternalism. “Our new mayor and our captain-general have everything under control. They told me so personally.” “Thanks a lot,” Vendredi deadpanned. “I feel safer than ever.”
    Garett said good-bye once more and started down the Processional. The street was crowded and dusty, and he was bumped and jostled more times than he could count. Each time, he paused and took a mental inventory to make sure he hadn’t been pinched by some pickpocket.
    The guards at the Garden Gate saluted smartly as he passed through, but he didn’t stop to talk. His apartment on Moonshadow Lane seemed a long way off, and he only wanted his bed. Already his garments were sweat-drenched. It would be good to get out of his clothes and lave some cool water over his body.
    A cart loaded with crates nearly ran him over as he turned up Cargo Street. “Opgn yer damned eyes!” the driver yelled at him, raising a whip as if to strike. Then he recognized Garett. “Oops. Sorry, Cap’n! Good day to ye!” The man cowered back down on his seat and drove on.
    Garett shook his head and walked on up the street. Carts and wagons continued to trundle by. Cargo Street was the city’s main route to the docks and the river, and goods came down it bound for their various markets. Still, it was less crowded than the Processional, and he made better time.
    Idly he wondered what would happen if he or Vendredi ever stopped playing games, and one of them said “yes,” and meant it. He had to admit she had a knack for making him smile, and he didn’t know of a lovelier lady in all of Greyhawk.
    From Cargo Street he turned right up Moonshadow Lane and arrived at Almi’s tavern. The old woman had not risen from bed yet. The tavern required her to keep hours like Garett’s. But she had thoughtfully left a plate of beef strips, a chunk of bread, and a pitcher of watered wine on the table in his apartment.
    He stripped off his weapons and his clothing as he ate, then stretched out naked on his bed. He would wash later. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.
    Garett woke. His room was pitch black and stifling,
    and for a frightening instant, he didn’t know quite
    where he was. Then he threw back the sheet and swung his legs over the side. He hung his head in his hands and just sat there for a moment, feeling as if he’d been in a good fight and lost. His heart hammered, and he ached in a score of places. Gods, he was drenched with sweat, and so was his bed.
    He rose shakily, disoriented, and fumbled toward the table in the center of the room. Overhead he felt for the cresset on its slender chain. It was cold. He groped his way to the window and threw back the shutter. Immediately a soft breeze blew into the apartment and a little light spilled in from the street below.
    Beyond the window, night had fallen. Garett listened to a pair of voices, a young couple who made their way up Moonshadow Lane and entered Almi’s tavern. Damn! He’d forgotten to tell Almi to wake him early. That’s why there was no fire in his lamp. She usually lit it before waking him.
    He cursed himself as he pulled on the same tunic he’d worn the night before. He didn’t have time to dig around for a clean one. Burge, Blossom, and Rudi would be waiting for him. What time was it, anyway? Almi hadn’t come up yet, so it had to be well before midnight. And if couples still felt safe in the streets of the River Quarter, it couldn’t be that long after dusk.
    He pulled on his leather trousers and stamped into his boots. His cloak was around somewhere, and so were his weapons. Damn, he thought. He was usually so orderly about such things! He opened his door, and a thin ribbon of illumination fell across his floor. It wasn’t much light, but enough to help him move about and find the things