Spider hesitantly advanced along the dark corridor. With his toes he carefully probed the floor tiles. The fifth tile made a different sound.
“I wonder what would happen if I stepped on it,” he sighed long and stepped over the tile.
Suddenly a drawn-out rustle sounded from somewhere. Glenfir recognized the sound at once, since he often shot a bow himself. Without a word, he threw himself to the ground, pulling down Vearmea with one hand and Spider with the other. An arrow flew through the spot where, just a moment ago, Vearmea's delicate neck had been.
Spider finished his second tankard. It seemed to him that the innkeeper smirked, but he paid it no attention - who cares what that insolent fellow thinks of him?
His hand began to shake and he felt a dull taste on his tongue. At the bottom of the cup were a few purple grains. He wondered how they got there. “If only I weren't so terribly sleepy,” he thought.