~
Some hours later the storm was still raging, sending driven hail and slush to batten the roof of the tavern, branches clattering against the roof-tiles before they snapped and flew away. Hinfane was still sitting in front of the fireplace, huddled in her blanket. The sound of sleeting wind suddenly filled the tavern like the howl of a hundred banshees as the tavern door opened. A cold hand of fear gripped Hinfane’s heart, with the thought that the elf-mage had come into her tavern.
Footsteps tramped in, lighter footsteps than those of one who had been trudging through the snow. Were they the footsteps of a light-footed, nimble elf?
Expecting to see the elf-mage, Hinfane shot a nervous glance round her chair-back and caught a glimpse – it was Kereth’s cloak that fluttered ever so slightly in the last violent gust of wind as he turned in the corridor to go up the staircase. She glimpsed rather than saw his eyepatch as it passed. The sound of battening rain, sleet and hailstones twisting and blowing into the tavern ceased as suddenly as it had begun, as the tavern door slammed shut.