[Envinyatar]

‘Silvanis, is it?’ Derufin nodded courteously to the man, then tipped his chin at the chair opposite him. ‘May I?’

The man looked up at him questioningly. Derufin smiled. ‘I work here at the Inn. The erstwhile stableman, if you will.’ He nodded toward the window, outside which the wind still gusted, sending flurries of thick wet snow swirling through the air. ‘I took the liberty of stabling your horse. Rubbed him down, dried him off. Left him some early sweet grass with which to pass the time. A handsome mount, if I might say so. Got your name from the Inn Log so I could tell his owner what I’d done with him.’

A passing server smiled sweetly at Derufin as he took a pint from her tray, paying her with a wink from his glinting eyes. He sat down in the chair opposite Silvanis, and putting his tankard on the worn table top, pulled out his own pipe and pouch of pipeweed. ‘Wild galenas, eh?!’ he remarked, wrinkling his nose a bit at the pungent aroma of poorman’s pipeweed. ‘Here, try some of this, if you’ld like. Southern Star.’

He held out the pouch to the man . . .