Though his features never moved, Hakiem grimaced inside. Such goings on werenever tolerated when One-Thumb was around. The bartender/owner of the VulgarUnicorn had always been quick to evict such riffraff as fast as they appeared.While the tavern had always been shunned by the more law-abiding citizens ofSanctuary, one of the main reasons it was favoured by the rougher element wasthat here a man could partake of a drink or perhaps a little larcenousconversation uninterrupted. This tradition was rapidly coming to an end.
The fact that he would not be allowed to linger for hours over a cup of thetavern's cheapest wine if One-Thumb were here never entered Hakiem's mind. Hehad a skill. He was a storyteller, a tale-spinner, a weaver of dreams andnightmares. As such, he considered himself on a measurably better plane than thederelicts who had taken to frequenting the place.
One-Thumb had been missing for a long time now, longer than any of his previousmysterious disappearances. Fear of his return kept the tavern open and theemployees honest, but the place was degenerating in his absence. The only way itcould sink any lower would be if a Hell Hound took to drinking here.
Despite his guise of slumber, Hakiem found himself smiling at that thought. AHell Hound in the Vulgar Unicorn! Unlikely at best. Sanctuary still chafed atthe occupying force from the Rankan Empire, and the five Hell Hounds were hatedsecond only to the military governor. Prince Kadakithis, whom they guarded.Though it was a close choice between Prince Kitty-Cat with his naive lawmaking