<b>Pegawen was still mulling over what he'd told her about the Blessed Lands as Lotharn started to tend his bow. With his attentions on his weapon, she took the opportunity to study him as his long fingers deftly unwrapping the leather from around the length of wood. <i>He's done that many times, </i>she thought, <i>he's quite graceful with it. </i>She sighed, thinking of her own failed lessons with the bow – or any weapon for that matter, save a bit of runic lore she'd learned – and wondered if it was possible for her to even learn such a thing. Allassiel had certainly been unable to teach her, though she was not the most patient of teachers.</b><br/><br/><b>She opened her mouth to ask him, when something fell away and bounced on the bed. She followed the motion down, her eyes widening as he picked it up – a small black stone, much like what Timberlane had described in his tale. She met Lotharn's stunned expression with shock. “Is that … ?” she started.</b><br/><br/><b>Downstairs, Allassiel awaited the decanter of wine she'd purchased for the room. She didn't have a particular fondness for it herself; however, knowing that Pegawen enjoyed sampling different wines, she decided to humor her younger cousin. <i>Not that this stuff, </i>she thought, as she idly gazed around the room, <i>is going to be any where near what she can make herself.</i></b><br/><br/><b>A shadow caught her attention and, turning her head, she watched two cloaked figures make their way up to the bar. She stepped back, partially obscuring herself behind one of the large wooden posts in the common room, and watched them. </b>