Standing in the darkened northwest corner of the taverns common room Jenn looked, as ever, out of place. These barrels, this little niche, had ever been the the favoured place of the more shady clientele of this establishent, usually being inhabited by heavily armed men in hooded cloaks doing their level best to look mysterious and intimidating. Jenn, on the other hand, was small, slender, well-groomed and the very picture of a fine lady in her blue silk dress, jewelled belt and fine gold circlet. Still, no one looked twice at her for standing here, they were used to it by now.
Raising her glass of fuit juice to her lips, she hid a smile as she thought about the happenings of the previous day.
Seaver had returned with the news that he had fulfiled his instructions to the letter. That was to the good. It may only be the first strike of many to come, but this would lay the foundation upon which to build. Absolute destruction of a person took time, patience and panache. People often thought only of the physical aspects of revenge, but flesh wounds and broken bones healed quickly, death was too swift and merciful. To exact a true measure of retribution one needed to go much further than simply slitting a throat. One needed to be much more creative.
What Seaver had done was double-edged, although he may not see it. Firstly, it would play on the girls guilt, play with her mind, loosen her grip on reality and sanity. Breaking her mind, her spirit, would be much more satisfying in the long run than beating her body. Secondly, it would send a message to the guard dog; he could not keep the wretch safe no matter how he tried. Her enemies would find her, and him. With luck, that would put him in doubt of his strength, his abilities and thus weaken him.
Rab had also returned. It had been a long while since Jenn had seen that old man. In truth, she had missed him. It was strange to think that she would miss anyone save her beloved husband, but Rab had long since become part of their little family. Naturally, he had wished for vengeance as well once he heard of the terrible fate to befall Siward, but he had known Jenn for some time now and trusted in her. He would, as ever, follow her commands to the letter and, even better, keep an eye on Seaver for her.
She paused in her musings, her sea-green eyes travelling to a patch of empty air to her left. When they had come to the tavern, Siward had always stood there in that exact spot. Even had she come alone, it was never long before he had appeared to take up his customary position. Even now, she half expected him to come join her or for his huge bulky frame to be looming comfortingly over her the same as it always had. She breathed a quiet, sad sigh and turned her attention back to the hustle and bustle of the inn once more. No matter how many times she wished for it, she knew that she would never feel his presence standing just to the side of her again.
Almost forcibly, she turned her mind back to other subjects. Daigan. Ah, now there was a useful man. He was so eager and willing to help that it was almost too easy. A mournful look here, a sniffle there and she had him eating out of the palm of her hand. He was yet another man to swear vengeance on her behalf as well as vow the saftey of herself and her son. Added to that, the man was a wealth of information on the girl and her protector; all Jenn needed to do was gently steer the conversation. He was so kind, so gentle, so forthcoming and keen to comfort her. Most other women would no doubt be grateful to have such a lovely man offering a shoulder to cry on at such a time, but in Jenn's mind another playing piece was pushed that little bit further across the board.
Her attention was brought back to the present by the sound of footsteps approaching. Cymaru, the dear clueless soul, had fixed on her most concerned expression and come over to offer tea.
