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Without a doubt, this is the nicest place you have been in ... you don't know how long. It is certainly the nicest place that you have ever been let into. That thought makes you feel a little bit ashamed, and quite self-conscious - though at the same time, you are annoyed to note that the coin and the false teeth are no longer in the proprietors hands. You are wrestling with whether or not to say anything about it, but then he goes to open the door to the room and you can almost physically feel the moment pass you by, and you stifle a frustrated sigh. Perhaps it is for the best - after all, against all reasonable and rational concerns and objections, this man has decided to trust you and accede to your admittedly ridiculous request. You should repay that trust in you with trust in him. Believe that he will do the right thing, and give you change for that twenty-talent back. More importantly, believe that he does not have any ulterior designs by ... personally letting you into this room.
Of course, he <span class="mu-i">shouldn't</span> be trusting you. So by that selfsame token ...
Immediately following that harrowing thought is the realization that instead of giving you the key to unlock the room, he is doing it himself with a key from a cord around his neck, presumably the Master's key for The Hooded Heads. Once he opens the door and stands back with a mild smile on his soft featured face, it seems apparent that he has no intention to give you your own key to this room. You make a bit of show of fumbling with the cart a bit, pressing on the bundled goods, to make sure that they are packed down, hoping that if you simply stall a bit, he will put two and two together and offer you the key to the room. But when he doesn't, you have to press him on it.
"Pardons, sir, but the key?"
"What about it, lass?"
"Can ... I get the key to the room?"
"Oh. No, unfortunately. The man who took the room for the night has the guest key. The only other one is mine."
Great. Just fraying great. Doing your best to keep your nerve, you get your cart moving once again, and with the proprietor standing beside the door, you cross the threshold into the room. The room is of a similar size as to the one that you were sent to in the Perch, but this one is much more comfortably appointed. For starters, there is a full-size window instead of a slit. The bed is a little longer, and significantly more comfortable looking - as is the chair at the table. The washbasin has it own little cabinet, and not only does this one actually have water, but it has a hunk of lye soap and a towel as well. And while there might not be a sea chest at the foot of the bed, there is a brace of devotional tapestries instead of just the one. This is a remarkably nice room, and if you weren't so damned on edge - and you actually were going to be staying in it - you might be able to appreciate it. You allow yourself a fortifying breath, then you push the cart in.
