The inn was crowded and abuzz with people, the way it always was in a city this big, even at half an hour to midnight. It had an interesting layout; the building was a 3-floored cylinder, and the bar on the first floor was in the center, surrounded by tables where people were eating. The check-in desk, the bathrooms and the stairs were all connected to the outer walls. The dull roar of a hundred different voices trying not to be heard over the others meshed with the ticking and clicking of the many gears in the walls and on the ceiling.
Aramis craned his neck and looked around the room. "I don't get it," he said. "There's no kitchen in here. Where are they serving the food?"
"There's a kitchen in the basement," said Maria, not looking up from the sketchpad she had propped against the table where they sat. "There's stairs to it on the other side of the bar."
Aramis nodded, then gave Maria a look. "Wait, how do you know that?" he asked.
Maria looked back at him, surprise faint in her eye