Another Fine Myth by Robert Asprin

To my relief, the next window yielded to my pressure, and in a moment I was standing inside the inn, trying to get my heartbeat under control.

The room I was in was furnished, but vacant. Judging from the dust on the bed, it had been vacant for some time.

I wondered for a moment where demons slept, if they slept at all, then forced the question from my mind. Time was running out and I wasn’t in position yet. I darted silently across the room and tried the door.

Unlocked!

Getting down on my hands and knees, I eased the door open and crawled through, pushing it shut behind me.

After studying the inn’s interior so often in Quigley’s dirt sketches, it seemed strange to actually be here. I was on the long side of an L-shaped mezzanine which gave access to the upper-story rooms. Peering through the bars of the railing that lined the mezzanine, 1 could look down into the inn proper.

There were three people currently occupying a table below, I recognized the disguised features of Higgens and Brockhurst as two of them. The third was sitting hunched with his back to me and I couldn’t make out his face.

I was debating shifting to another position to get a better view, when a fourth figure entered bearing an enormous tray with a huge jug of wine on it as well as an assortment of dirty flagons.

“This round’s on the house, boys!” the figure chortled merrily. “Have one on old Isstvan.”

Isstvan! That was Isstvan?

The waddling figure below did not seem to display any of the menacing features I had expected in a wouldbe ruler of the dimensions.