[Arry]

Gil stepped into the Inn and took a quick look round. His face fell a little, seeing that the troupe of Players who'd come to the Inn last night were nowhere in the Common Room. He'd hoped to breakfast with them . . . and in doing so see the fair Rowan again. He smiled then chided himself for a moonspun fool.

'They've probably been up, eaten, and gone down the road a long time ago,' he said in a resigned manner. With an uncharacteristic sigh, he plunked himself down in a chair near the fireplace and waved over one of the servers.

'Mug of dark,' he ordered. The server hesitated. It was not Gil's usual drink at this time of day.

'Dark drink to drown my dark thoughts,' he said, his brows raised in challenge. 'Just fetch it, if you please, and leave off any comments, spoken or otherwise.'