The Lazy Eel

Back in Davos's smuggling days, the Eel had been renowned for offering the oldest whores and vilest wine in White Harbor, along with meat pies full of lard and gristle that were inedible to eat on their best days and poisonous on their worst.

The ceiling is barrel vaulted and stained black with soot. The floor is hard-packed earth. The air smells of smoke and spoiled meat and stale vomit. The cellar is large, full of nooks and shadowed alcoves where a man can be alone if he so desires. There is a hearth.

Most locals shunned the place, leaving it for sailors who did not know any better. City guardsmen and customs officers were never seen down in the Lazy Eel. Not much has changed.

We are those other locals.