When Benia Nightshade arrived in the common room, she became instantly aware of two things: one, the postman had just made a delivery; and, two, the man she had noticed staring at her from the doorway the night before was again standing in the doorway of the inn. This time, he smiled and nodded to her in a friendly manner before exiting. She nodded in return, but a smile failed to materialize. There were far too many serious matters on her mind to allow for much gaiety. She looked around the other occupants of the room, finding some were familiar from the night before, some were not. The most noticeable newcomer to her eyes was a large man dressed after the fashion of the Men of Rohan. She thought she recognized the clothing as that of a royal courier.
Her own father, Jack Nightshade, had once been in the service of Rohan, but it had been in the old days, under the old king, long before Eomer had assumed the throne. This man was probably too young to have known Old Jack Nightshade, Rider of the Mark. By the time this man had sworn his alliegiance to the king, Old Jack had no doubt long been written off as a deserter, a traitor. Of course, it wasn't the way it looked. Things seldom were as they appeared. Jack had never intended to desert. Evil things had happened and he had just never managed to come back from leave, not for seven long years. When he finally did return to Edoras, he had been imprisoned as a deserter. Eventually, with the help of some friends who had remained loyal, he had managed to escape and flee the country. Half-caste Benia had been only eight years old at the time. Since then, she had always regarded the Rohirrim with suspicion. Raising her veil to conceal her face all but the eyes, she went to sit at a table on the far side of the room.
She had intended to ask Aman, the innkeeper, if she had noticed anyone around the inn lately talking about or showing off any of the red stones like the one that had so recently come into her possession. Now, seeing Aman in friendly conversation with the Man of Rohan, she changed her mind. She would have to come up with another way of finding out what she needed to know. Mentally, she began to catalog who had been present in the common room the night before and who might have had the opportunity to slip her the stone. Her mind kept stubbornly returning to the Man in the Doorway. He was the only one who seemed to have paid her any mind whatsoever. She wondered what a man who looked so much like a Ranger would be doing with one of the red stones and why, of all the odd folk at the inn, he would pass it to her. If, of course, he was the one who had done it. She was still turning this over in her mind when she looked up to see a familiar face smiling across the table at her. It was Gilly. She had returned, and she was holding a letter.
Behind her veil, Benia smiled, letting the smile travel to her eyes. "Greetings!" she said cheerfully, but in the folds of her dress, her fingers still turned the red stone.
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