Part II - A New Player

As the two old friends tried, without success, to douse the magical flame, a man who'd been steadily downing the strongest ale the inn sold unceremoniously fell over. That wasn't an unusual occurrence, but he hit a nearby table on the way down, knocking it over. He was sent out the door without comment by two of the larger and more sober customers. If those customers had watched more carefully as he staggered down the street, they might have noticed that he miraculously avoided the worst filth. As he wandered off into the afternoon, his walk became much straighter. Within a few blocks, he was upright and apparently sober.

As he passed through a particularly shadowy alley, he removed and reversed his cloak, changing it from a disreputable wool to a stylish silk. He also spat a small stone into his hand, carefully wrapped it in a cloth and stowed it in his belt pouch. By the time he came to the side door of a rather more expensive establishment with the unlikely name of 'The Unicorn's Rump', he was looking every bit a gentleman out for a bit of fun.

The guard at the front door admitted him without a word. He was obviously well-known here. He waved away a servant that offered to take his cloak and walked quickly to a private room in the back of the building. He passed no other patrons as he waked down the dimly lit hall. Unlike the tavern he had recently left, this dim light seemed to speak of old money and power.

When he got to the room he sought, he knocked twice, paused, and knocked again. Then he opened the door and walked in.

A tall, dark haired man was finishing his afternoon tea. He poured a second cup. "Well, did they get it?' he asked.

"Yes, sir. Just before I left I saw the fat herbalist do some kind of test on the ring. It caused a flame to jump nearly to the ceiling!"

"Excellent, my friend, excellent. Please sit down, I'm sure you've had a hard day and would like something a little better than the ale that dive provides. Did you eat anything while you were there?" the older man asked.

The younger man sat down, wearily. Playing the drunk could be tiring and he was both hungry and thirsty. "No, Lord Haversham, I saw the slop they called stew and decided that it would be safer to starve!"

Lord Haversham poured some honey into the cup of tea he had poured for his companion and stirred it. "Here, have some tea while I get our host to provide something more substantial than these bites." He gestured toward a plate with small cookies and coverage, half eaten. The younger man nodded and accepted the tea. Lord Haversan left the room and waited in the hall for a few seconds. A mute young boy accepted his order and ran off in the direction of the kitchen.

Lord Haversan watched patiently while his agent finished the platter of rare roast beef with onions and drank a small beer. "At last the game has begun," Lord Haversham said. His smile, while genuine, was a fearsome thing to behold. It reminded his agent more of a tiger bearing his fangs than a man in good humor.