This tavern had none of the targets Su Ni had described.
There were plenty of alluring women, but none dressed as Mercenaries.
Annan and Alice sat in the tavern for a while, passing the time discussing the plot of Annan Potter and the Magic Stone. But tens of minutes went by, and nothing happened.
Had they picked a respectable tavern by mistake?
But the Mercenaries groping women's backsides on their way upstairs, the patrons hatching secret plots in the corners, the pickpockets eyeing everyone's purses... If anything, this place dragged down the standards of the local taverns by several percentage points.
Just as he thought that, the sharp smell of cheap perfume wafted over with a figure who must have been desperately poor—why else would her clothes use so little fabric?
"Hey, sweetheart. Can I buy you a drink?"
She sat across from Annan. Her heady perfume and the suggestive play of light and shadow seemed designed to stir desire—
"I'm not old enough to drink." Annan remained unmoved.
"Then a juice." The woman waved toward the bar.
She wasn't who they were looking for, so Annan let her down gently. "I prefer someone more mature."
Low laughter sounded around them.
The patrons had been watching Annan and Alice. Snatches of conversation about a Dark Lord, eternal life, and protective charms drifted over now and then, leaving them with the vague impression that the pair were formidable.
The woman left with an ugly look on her face, and a man as skinny as a monkey took her place.
"To mature women." He raised his glass with a grin.
Annan stayed quiet, letting the man explain what he wanted.
"What information are you after?"
"We're just here to look around the tavern," Annan said.
"Come on. Who brings a lady to