39
Interrogating people doesn’t seem to be working out the way you’d hoped. Not only that, but you can’t exactly say you’re loving your time at the docks—it smells terrible here and the longer you stand around asking people questions, the worse it gets.
“I’m not sure this is working out,” you say. “Maybe we should try somewhere else.”
Tarquin says, “Know anywhere that doesn’t smell like a midden?”
“I think we’re going to bring it with us,” Ashur says doubtfully, looking closely at one of his coat sleeves as though he can see the ghosts of dead fish perfuming it.
“All right, I get the message,” you say, even though you’re pretty sure they’re winding you up. After all, it’s not as though it smells any worse today than it does any other time. Still, you’ve wasted more than enough time here—you’re ready to move on.