Friday, March 25, 2011
The Tavern is in full swing as I enter. It is, as suspected, the shifter band - which must some day acquire a name, if only so we can stop calling it "the shifter band" - which is providing the music tonight. I take a casual but thorough look around, then signal Monty. "Elixir # 4," I say casually. Efficient as always, he returns in due course with the beverage in question and proffers it to me with a smile. "Go easy on that stuff, Doc," he says. "It'll turn you into a bat."
I smile beneath the hood. "I have information, young one," I say, pushing a typewritten note across to him. "Digest the substance of that, if you will, and pass it on to all you know and trust. Do not, however, tell any you do not know; he or she may be our culprit, and it would be as well not to give him or her any indication that we are watching."
He reads the note without a shift in expression, then pushes it back to me. "You can count on me, sir," he says seriously, and I pay him for the drink with a sizable tip for his services.
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