I probably would have drowned, had Mr. Waters not grabbed me by the hair and yanked me out. The bathhouse was filling up. The Arwheat brothers were there, shouting and shoving and laughing. Old Mr. Bull was in for his monthly bath. He looked wizened and almost Elvish peeping up through the suds. All were eager to regale me with tales of the hard-eyed men who’d been watching my door last night. Mr. Bull had chased them off his stoop just that very morning. He wasn’t sure where they’d gone. I bet it wasn’t far. I didn’t ask Mr. Bull or the Arwheat brothers or anyone else to keep their mouths shut about my bathing habits. They weren’t going to talk to outsiders, and asking would only have insulted them. I dressed in my clean clothes and put on my clean shoes and slipped out of the bathhouse by the back door. From there I stuck to alleys and walls until I found a cab at Merry and managed to climb inside without ruining my shirt with a sudden flight of arrows. Tamar was my first stop.
