2. Speck
Speck paused at the foot of the stairs, trying to get her bearings. Truth be told, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to take advantage of the inn’s free breakfast. The Human was bound to continue staring at her with that slightly idiotic awe that made her feel more like a three-foot high insect than a woman, and while the Elothean man hadn’t said anything, the unmistakable amusement in his eyes as he’d watched her temper tantrum made her all too aware of what a perfect fool she must have looked.
She’d hoped to befriend one or two of her roommates before they all headed out to seek whatever had brought them all here, just so she wouldn’t feel so completely on her own. But the Human was obviously running on half a tart, and the Elothean didn’t look like someone just starting out on a new adventure; someone who might be happy to befriend a young lass who was more scared than excited at the prospect of becoming a Guilded citizen.
Speck nibbled at her lip, gazing toward the door she’d seen the Eloth walk through a few moments before.
Maybe the other two are more like me, she thought. The Elf, whom she hadn’t really noticed last night and had been too flustered to really observe back in the room, was bound to be pleasant -- Elves nearly always were. And chances were the occupant of the curtained-off alcove was a woman, who’d chosen the curtains as a measure of privacy against the men in the room.
“Because,” Speck continued aloud, adressing herself in the stern parental voice she adopted when she’d done something foolish, “MOST women make a minor effort to wear CLOTHES when men are about. Because most women have SENSE.”
“Ah, but clothes are such a dreadful bore,” a voice drawled from behind her, and Speck let out an involuntary shriek and whirled around.
The Elf stood a few feet up the staircase, lounging against the rail and grinning at her. Speck caught her breath, realizing she was staring every bit as rudely as the Human had stared at her earlier, but unable to help herself.
He was, without a doubt, the most unbelievably gorgeous creature she’d ever seen. True, most Elves were beautiful, and Speck had been around enough Elves in her short lifetime that she’d gotten used to their looks and the air of superior amusement they all seemed to wear like a cloak. But this man was drop-dead gorgeous, almost too pretty to be a man, the kind who would make women lose all sense of reason and follow him around like lost puppies.
Thick golden hair tumbled carelessly to his shoulders, and eyes the exact shade of wild violets twinkled in amusement at her. He wore a pair of battered breeches and a white vest, but carried himself as if he wore robes made from spun gold. His skin was the color of fresh honey, and though slender like all Elves he was solidly built.
“Hi,” Speck said weakly.
“Now, see, you’re lucky,” the Elf said. “Because once you put clothes on, everyone’s able to close their mouths and go on about their business. I have to put a sack over my head to get a normal response from someone.”
“I doubt you’d get a normal response from anyone if you went around with your head in a sack,” Speck said.
The Elf pondered this for a moment in mock seriousness. “I believe you’re right,” he said. “And it would muffle my speech dreadfully, don’t you think? So I suppose I’ll have to continue putting up with the stares. Do you have a name?”
“Call me Speck.”
“Your name is Speck?”
“No, but that’s what people call me.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What do people call you?”
“Oh, many things, but I’m far too much of a gentleman to repeat them in the presence of a lady. But my name is Serdannio. Ser’s part of the name, not a title.”
Speck, who had indeed thought he’d said Sir Dannio, shrugged. “Must be annoying to have to explain your name to everyone.”
“Indeed. Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the door of the dining room. “The food’s bound to be awful, but at least it’s free.”
Speck hesitated. “I’m not sure I’m hungry.”
“Better eat while you can. I suspect we’ve all got long days ahead of us.”
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