212

The cellar is full of rough-faced villains, laughing and bragging about their illegal exploits as they swill their sour ale. You cross the crowded floor and sit at the end of a table, as far away from the door as possible. A thin, wiry fellow with curly black hair approaches you with a tankard of foaming ale in one hand. You have taken his seat and he is determined to get it back.

If you have ever escaped from the South Gate tower, turn to 164.

If not, turn to 315.