He didn’t look at me as I stood there.
Should I call out? Take a seat? Go back out and come back in?
Perhaps I could ask the man at the bar to choose a number and assign it to my options, but a woman rounded the corner and ruined all my plans.
She was a little on the plump side, and her hair was pulled back with a wrap tied at the top of her head. She cast me an irritable look and jerked her head to the side.
“He’s waitin’ for you o’er there,” she said, gesturing to the corner of the tavern.
I raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t anyone?—
I stared in the corner she’d gestured to, suddenly seeing a man indeed sitting there.
When the hell did he come in?
He wore a black cloak, its hood drawn low over his face. My footfalls were like trees coming down and smacking the ground as I walked toward him.
Couldn’t they play some music or something?
Scratching the side of my face, I kept moving, trying to focus on the crackling of the fire.
“Anna?” His deep brown eyes were fixed on mine as his hands rested around his tankard on the table.
He was dressed warmly in genuine leather with highly detailed stitchwork. He must have been at least ten years older than me. He stood and lowered his hood, revealing wavy dark blond hair. He smiled and gestured for me to join him.
The chair dragged across the wooden floor as I pulled it out, screeching along the way.
He sat down.
“I’m glad you made it,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you. My name is Davos. Congratulations are in order. You’ve passed the first test.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What test?”
“Getting here,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe how many people never show up.”
Because they took one look at this place and ran, I thought to myself.
“I mean, this is all a bit odd,” I said. “What is this place?”
His grin faded as he glanced around. “Oh, yes, it is a bit, isn’t it. I’ve never heard of a—what was it? Monk?”
Was he kidding?
“You mean, a mink?” I asked.
Alright, where was the camera?
Because this couldn’t be real.
But Davos wasn’t paying any attention to the incredulous look on my face.
“Ah, yes, what is that?” he asked.
I paused, realizing the question wasn’t rhetorical, and frowned. “Um, it’s sort of like a weasel, I guess?”
“Huh,” he said. “Not sure what that is either. Anyway. You’re here. Let’s talk. You’ve come today because you’re seeking admittance into the Summits at Nightfall. I trust you’ve been properly briefed about what exactly it is that you’ve signed up for?”
I stared at him as he took a deep drink of his tankard. “Not exactly.”
