Near Harad, T.A. 3005.
The girl lifts her gaze from the paper to take another look across the room. Her subject still hasn’t moved. The voices of the patrons are no more than muffled background noise in her mind, as she focuses on the details of his features. The elderly foreigner sits alone in a dimly lit corner of the tavern, quietly nursing the umpteenth spiced chai. She is uncertain if he actually registers the goings-on of those around them. He sits so still, only moving to bring the beverage to his lips every now and then, no indication of anything or reaction to anyone. But the way his keen eyes stare over the edge of his cup, makes her think that nothing and no one is passing his notion. He seems uncomfortably observant, and yet completely in a world of his own.
She looks down to her drawing and places a few more well-considered strokes. Another fold under the eye, another grey strand falling down from beneath the hood, another ripple in the fabric of the robe, a bit more length to the beard… With a smudge of her finger she lets a wisp of steam ascend from the cup of chai. “Too bad about that blue…” she thinks as she toys with the charcoal pencil.
When she looks back up, her view is blocked by the movement of coming and going people. She sighs and tries to peer through the bustling of a group of women who just entered the establishment. She catches a glimpse of the old man in between a moving arm and a flowing scarf, and startles. Was he looking at her? She averts her eyes quickly, until the women are out of the way. He is back to his previous position now. The shadow cast over his features by his hood, reaches a little further than before. She can no longer tell if he is or is not looking at her.
“Lea! Dinner!”
She flinches. In a reflex she covers the drawing with her sleeve as she looks up, in the direction of the voice. Her mother smiles and beckons. “Come, little tavern-dweller! Grandmother has been in the kitchen for hours.” She stands up and follows her mother towards the light of the half-open door. It takes significant effort to keep her eyes away from the old man as she passes his seat, but she succeeds. As the girl is about to step outside, she freezes and feels her heart sink. She knows exactly to whom the voice behind her belongs, and at whom his words are directed.
“Until next time.”
