Dafydd rode into the outskirts of Fairhaven, following the call which remained strong and urgent. Once again, he reached his destination at nightfall, and he booked into an inn which appeared clean, if basic. He didn't have coins to waste, nor did he know how long he would have to stay here. Cities confused him; the multitude of people rushing about their business, all in a hurry to get somewhere else. Already the call was muddled. He could still feel it but the direction was difficult to pinpoint; he thought it came from the centre of the city but he couldn't be sure. Perhaps it came from the other side, the city itself another detour on his quest.

He would stable his horse, and then find somewhere in the city to eat and drink, listen to the local gossip, and see if he could discover what might have brought him here.

An hour later, he sat in the Ram's Head, a rather seedy tavern, sipping his ale and keeping his eyes discreetly downcast while his ears listened to the voices around him. The tavern was either poor or old-fashioned; there were rushes on the floor and the wooden tables were heavy and scarred, stained with years of use. Lamps were turned low so that faces were hard to make out. Evidently it was a meeting place for those with business they did not want to broadcast.

He heard rather more than he cared to about a wrestling match scheduled for the following afternoon. He even heard about a plot to rob a local silk merchant, but he didn't hear anything about magical creatures or monsters terrorising the population. Apparently the King had turned down another potential bride, the losing race favourite, Red Fancy, was only good for dog meat, and Big Lily was the best goddamn whore around. All very interesting to those concerned, no doubt, but not what he had come all this way to hear.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a man stumbling against him. Without thinking, he reached out to stop his fall, catching his flailing arm.

"Steady on!"

"Forgive me! Damn stupid place to leave a bag!"

Dafydd looked up to see the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen, now glaring at him as they both realised it had been Dafydd's bag that had caused the accident.

He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry! Have a seat and I'll buy you a drink to make up for it." A second's glance showed him a fit, compact man in his mid-thirties with a harsh face and long black hair that reached his shoulders.

Dafydd kept the polite smile on his face as his heart flipped over in his chest. The thought never even entered his head that he was on a quest and therefore had no time for dalliance.

He could see the other man hesitating. Before he could refuse, Dafydd called over the waiter. "Two ales," he said, firmly.

~~~

Reluctantly, the newcomer sat down, casting an instinctive glance about to check his surroundings. Then, for the first time, he took a proper look at the man in front of him. Green eyes, high cheek bones, long, silky hair, provocative mouth.

His eyes flared slightly and he licked his bottom lip. "You're a wizard?" he blurted out—anything to break the spell the stranger had cast on him.

"Yes, my name is Dafydd."

"I thought wizards only lived in the forest?" He sounded foolish, even to himself.

But the wizard was still smiling at him, his eyes bright with interest. "That's true. I'm just here for a day or so, on business. Passing through."

Their hands touched, ever so lightly, as they reached for their ale at the same time. Blue eyes looked into green, asking the question. Waited with bated breath.

What harm could it do? They were adults. Two strangers who would probably never see each other again. Without a word, Dafydd picked up his drink, and followed the stranger upstairs.