“Do you still go by Black Hat?”
“In the right company.”
“It is a silly name.”
The visitor adjusted his wide-brimmed black hat. Its shadow danced fitfully on the wall, startled with every crackle of the firewood.
“You did not invite me here to exchange pet names and taste wines.”
“What do you make of it?”
“Decent; a little rough and unrefined. It suits the land - its people. First batch?”
“It will be.”
Outside, laughter trickled like a pebble-strewn river, unburdened, and mirthful, and free.
“I have a task for you.”
“I don't take tasks from you.”
“You will want to take this one. How often do you get to lay hands on a weapon of the Iron Crown?”
“Go on.”
“Far to the north, in his starless tower, a sorcerer is performing an experiment. You are going to steal him.”
“The sorcerer?”
“The experiment.”
The bottle was plain and unadorned. The label design was not yet finalised. Wine-stained rejects comprised a makeshift coaster for the silver goblet.
“Settled life has really got you that bored, huh?”
“On the contrary; I think we might find from this a way to help her guest.”
“So she doesn't know, then.”
“She does not.”
“Is the brute going to help?”
“Not with this. He still blames the rangers for Helena. He would not stay composed.”
“That's a shame. Assailing the tower alone will be a challenge.”
“You will not need to. A caravan will soon be transporting him for field testing. You will intercept it.”
“Transporting him where?”
“Annuminas.”
The fire waned. The wine was finished. The visit was over.
“Do you still go by Crow?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good. It was a silly name.”
“It was.”
