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

he had so carelessly discarded. In no time at all, Garett was dressed and armed.
    He paused long enough to pour himself a cup of the leftover watered wine, then took a long sip as he glanced out his apartment door. A trio of characters came up the lane, locked arm in arm, laughing and staggering. They had the look of bargemen about them, kind of rough, but good-natured. Garett watched them until they passed out of sight and quiet reigned in the street once more.
    He wiped the back of his hand over his forehead where a bead of sweat trickled from his hairline toward his left eye. Was it the heat or was it that damn dream again? He glanced toward his bed. The strewn sheets were clear evidence of his tossing and turning. His body was stiff, as if he’d gotten no real rest at all.
    And yet, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember anything about the dream. All that remained was a deep foreboding, a restless sense that something loomed out there in the night, waiting.
    He swallowed the last of his wine and set the cup back on the table. Using the key in his purse, he locked his door and descended his stairs into the street.
    Almi was in her window as she usually was. After all, she had hired girls to see to her customers. Minding the business of the street was her main occupation. “you’re up early,” she said by way of greeting.
    “I’m late,” Garett answered curtly, frowning at himself.
    Almi ran a hand through the wild knot of hair that crowned her head. “Well, saves an old lady from climbing those steps,” she said. “Got time for a bite? Take something with you?”
    Garett ran a hand over his stomach, but he shook his head.
    “Well, you be careful tonight, Garett Starlen,” Almi said strangely. She rolled her eyes up toward the dark roofs on the other side of the street as if searching them, then craned her old neck back farther to see the narrow strip of star-speckled sky. “There’s trouble in the air.”
    Garett followed her gaze. “I know,” he answered before he could stop himself. His frown deepened. It was an odd, pointless thing to say.
    Almi’s gaze settled on Garett again, and she sighed heavily. “I’d have a tough time getting as much as I get from you if I have to rent that room to someone else.”
    Garett spared the old woman a brief smile. “Two bowls of gravy tomorrow night,” he told her, “and half a loaf of bread to go with it. And you can rub my back, too, before I get up.”
    “Hard beans and water.” Almi scowled teasingly as she waved him on. “That’s what you deserve!”
    There was a bit more spring in his step as he turned east onto Cargo Street, where a string of citizens meandered his way. The raucous sounds from the Strip a few blocks away drifted to him, and the people he passed were obviously headed there. He almost envied them. Burge was right. He was forgetting what pleasure was. When was the last time he’d gone out for a good time?
    As he stepped out onto the Processional, he watched a crimson and gilt palanquin with drawn curtains come his way, borne on the shoulders of four stout servants and guarded by four more blue-shirted, cudgel-bearing night watchmen. They turned up Cargo Street, no doubt also bound for the Strip. Some noble out slumming, Garett thought with a disparaging sneer. Blue-shirts or no, that one would be going home without his purse. The thieves would have it, or the gaming houses.
    He proceeded north toward the Citadel and through the Garden Gate. The High Market Square, so full of activity during the day, was abandoned now. The gray, hard-packed ground shone silvery in the light of Oerth’s two moons. Garett thought briefly of Vendredi, home now in her bed, or perhaps reading by the light of a fire. A smile flickered over his lips. Perhaps someday he would call on her.
    There were fewer people on the streets of the High Quarter. A few lamplights gleamed in the unshuttered windows of the nobles’ estates, and here and there a figure or