The old solid-wooden door to the Seahorse Tavern creaked open cautiously and a petite-cloaked figure stepped in hesitantly. One pale, delicate hand came forth out of the folds of the dark cloak and reached up slowly to push the hood back. As the hood fell partially away from the head, a heart-shaped face of a seemingly young girl was revealed.

Amya Sylvan's deep green eyes were full of distrust and uncertainty as they scanned the crowded room for a familiar face. Not seeing the one her troubled eyes searched for, she absentmindedly tucked some stray wavy strands of ruby red hair out of her view and stepped further into the dim, smoke-filled tavern.

Out of nowhere, an old comely serving wench dressing in threadbare clothes appeared and moved quickly into the young girl's path. With a square face turned toward the girl she spoke, her voice harsh, "What do ye think yer doing' here, missy? This ain't no place fer the likes of ye." The tired hard-faced wench studied the still-cloaked girl with a critical blue eye waiting for an answer, her clear gaze looking through wisps of graying hair.

"I-I was sent here to fetch someone...," the girl stammered.The wench's features softened some at the sound of her voice. "And who might ye be fetchin' child?", the wench asked.

Before Amya could even begin to formulate a reply, a door to a private room in the back swung open and the noisy tavern grew silent for a moment. Out into the ill-lighted room a tall, dark-haired gentleman appeared, followed by a man years past his youthful prime.

With a sharp intake of air, Amya's dark eyes moved over the handsome man across the smoky room. A single thought ran through her head as she looked, ‘That's the most handsome man I have ever seen...' Her emerald gaze slowly crossed over his full lips as the thought continued, 'I wonder what it would be like to...'

Almost raising her hand to her mouth in shock at where her thoughts seemed to have turned, she shook her head quickly to rid herself of them before they could go on; for those were not the thoughts of a proper young gentlewoman.

She stood there for a fraction of a second watching the two men before hurrying through the momentary silence of the tavern toward them, leaving the serving wench standing in her wake.

As she neared the distinguished individuals the normal sounds of the tavern flared up once more, as if someone had flipped a switch.

*** *** ***

"It's about time you showed up." The voice was gruff and harsh sounding to the pair of listening ears.

A figure stepped into the soft flickering glow of the oil lamp, the heavy footfalls of his boots muted by the carpet beneath his feet.

Pale yellow encircled the stranger, casting most everything else into shadows. Crude features, high cheekbones, and a long sharply pointed nose were illuminated by the light. Nothing could be seen of the scraggly hair, dirtied and greasy, pulled into a ponytail and tucked beneath the collar of his coat. Twin muddied pinpoints, which one could call eyes, much too small for the man’s face peered across the room to the one who had spoken.

A smirk curled up about the man’s thin lips, a bit of scorn touching his voice as he spoke.

“I see... This coming from the man who beseeches others for more time... Do you really believe—“

A soft click was heard as the wooden door that had shut behind the stranger who had so recently entered opened once more, emitting the entrance of another.