I inspected every item in my room before I handled it. I saw that every scrap of food that had remained on Cook’s trays was disposed of where no one and nothing would taste it. I discarded the water in the buckets as well as that in my ewer. I inspected my supply of firewood and candles for powders or resins, checked my bedding for powder, and reluctantly discarded my complete supply of herbs. I would take no chances. I could discover no possessions missing, nor that anything had been added to my room. Sometime later I sat down on my bed, feeling exhausted and unnerved. I would have to be more on my guard, I concluded. I recalled the Fool’s experience and pondered it. I did not want to encounter a bag and a beating the next time I entered my room.
My room suddenly seemed confining, a trap that I must return to each day. I left it, not bothering to lock it as I went. Locks were useless. Let them see I did not fear their intrusion. Even though I did.
Outside, it was a mild, clear late afternoon. The unseasonably kind weather ate at me, even as I enjoyed my walk through the inner circle of the Keep. I decided I would walk down to town, to pay a visit to the Rurisk and my shipmates there, and then perhaps go into a tavern for a beer. It had been too long since I’d walked to town, and far too, long since I’d listened to the gossip of town folk. It would be a relief to get away from Buckkeep intrigues for a while.
I was going out the gate when a young guardsman stepped into my path. “Stand!” he commanded me, then: “Please, sir,” he added as he recognized me.