You swallow the last of your second mug of ale when Shyntar enters the room. You watch him stand at the base of the wooden stairs, his dark gaze sweeping the oblivious people.
You reluctantly let your eyes fall upon Snarl. He is staring down into his mug of ale. You feel a sickening moment of joy when you realize Snarl is intimidated by you.
You allow your eyes to fall upon Shyntar as he steps away from the stairs and moves toward you. His thick black cloak floats behind him like a dark angel's wings.
His steps are slow and purposeful, light and easy. You notice how he seems to float toward you, his cloak drifting back with every third step, revealing the taunting glint of metal.
Even before Shyntar reaches you, you know who he is. A slow smile touches your lips as you understand the importance of your decision.
"Are we prepared to leave?" Shyntar asks, his voice smooth as silk and just as cool.
"What's the hurry?" You ask, content to bide your time. Assuming your guess is correct, you allow your smile to broaden.
"Tell me, Bloome, what you intend to do here?" Shyntar asks as he thankfully occupies the seat between you and Snarl.
You wave the maiden over and she places a fresh mug of ale before you. "Drink." You say as you swallow. "And talk."
"About?" Shyntar asks as he catches the girl's eye. You are silently impressed at the haste with which she fetches his ale.
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