Seleven examined the paper. It was defiantly the hand of Smilog who had written this, the evil looking bird had been enough of a clue, but the black ink and the jagged letters clinched it. Before he read any of it, he could guess what it said; he took a sip of ale. As he did so, a small shape appeared at the other end of the table.
"I'm sorry to bother you" it said with a pause, "Would you care if I took a chair. All the others are currently occupied." Seleven nodded and returned to his reading. The figure had not moved, Seleven raised an eyebrow and said, "Good morning," hoping that the figure would perhaps give him some privacy. But yet it moved not.
Seleven placed the paper on the table, it clunked as the wax seal hit the wood and fell to rest. The figure stood still, looking at him while he drank his ale. Eventually, Seleven felt he should break the silence; "I see curiosity in your face," he said, "you would pry into my business?" he laughed and opened his arm out to a chair as if to say 'do sit down'. He folded the paper up and placed it in his pack before continuing, "to whom do I have the pleasure?"
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