Swamped

Sunflower suddenly seems to see something. He motions for you to follow him. You get the feeling he wants to be quiet. Even Mortimer the lizard seems to have gone silent.

He leads you around the guildhouse, and points to a footprint in the mud. It's clearly fresh - couldn't have been made more than ten minutes ago. Unfortunately, it seems whoever made it was careful to wipe their feet afterwards, as there are no other prints nearby.

Your thoughts are interrupted as Sunflower suddenly speaks up.

"The eyes on us have gone off," he says. "For the moment, anyways. Might have realized I spotted them."

"Seems if we're going to figure anything out about this, we ought to be quick, then," Black grumbles. "But all we could tell is that this came from somebody's boot, and it's not military issue."

"And about half the sailors in this port wear work boots," Sunflower adds. "So that doesn't exactly narrow it down."

"Actually, these aren't work boots," you say. "They're riding boots. There's a little wedge in the heel, that helps with staying on."

"Riding boots? But the only stable here is specifically for the carriage companies, and they don't stock saddles," Black mutters. "And if you kept a horse anywhere else in town, it'd draw notice. So who'd wear riding boots in this town?"

"Ah, pardon me, I wasn't clear enough. I didn't mean horse riding."