[piosenniel]

Inactivity was not one of his preferred states. Archim swigged the last of his ale from the tankard and banged it down on the table beside him. Heaving his scrawny frame from the bed, he stood and crossed the room, opening the door carefully to see who might be in the hallway. ‘It would be just like Fréa to have someone babysitting me,’ he thought to himself.

There was no one about, and feeling the need for another ale and a little company, he wandered down the stairs, looking carefully when he reached the bottom landing for any signs of his brothers or of Hama. ‘Good!’ he murmured, a crooked smile lighting his face. He patted the pockets in his vest, then remembered his brother had taken all the cards. His face fell for a moment, then relit as he found the wooden dice tucked in his inner pocket.

A voice, low and inviting, spoke to him from behind. ‘You look like you might need a friendly face to talk to.’ He turned, seeing a thin, yet oddly pretty woman eyeing him. ‘Buy me a drink,’ she said, ‘and we can pass the time getting to know one another.’

‘Better yet,’ he replied, his crooked smile growing, ‘I’ll buy us several drinks, and some for any of your friends you can round up.’ He pulled out the dice from his pocket and rolled them around in his hand. She winked at him, saying laughingly, ‘I see.’ Her small hands pushed him toward the bar. ‘Get us a flagon, then. And I’ll see what I can do.’ She pointed to a back table, indicating he should meet her there, then went off in search of ‘friends’.

Archim leaned with his back against the thick wood of the bar, watching her flit from patron to patron in the in, all smiles and laughter, her eyes coming often to look at him as he moved from the bar to the table.

‘Ah!’ he said, seating himself at the table, in the chair with a good view of the room. ‘Perhaps Lady Luck has found me here in this forsaken corner of the world.’