Swamped

You recognize the place immediately. It won't change much in the next thirty or so years.

This is the guildhouse for the independent sailors. The ones who don't have a military commission or a regular job on a merchant vessel. The ones who just take whatever work they can get.

Exactly where you'd go to hire someone desperate and unlikely to ask questions. Not at this hour, but they could have made arrangements beforehand.

"Thank you," you tell the lizard.

"Thank!" it shouts back. Then it mimics chewing. It's hungry.

Best not to feed it the dead murderfly, you might want that looked at. But there's a large beetle crawling up the wall, probably too high up for the lizard to get on its own. You grab it and toss it down; the lizard happily gulps it up.

Now you make your way towards the guildhouse. It's clearly closed, without any sign of lights... but you hear a rather distinctive sound as you get close to one of the windows.