obtain a job.
First with optimistic purpose, then with a sinking heart, Fianna studied these messages and found none that advertised for a seamstress. Cooks and scullery maids, yes, but no seamstresses. She read the announcements from all sides, from top to bottom, fretting that she didn't have her own sign to nail to the structure. She pondered her predicament, so exhausted and famished, she was tempted to accept defeat, swallow her pride and head back to Ros Creda. But no, she could never deliver herself to her stepfather's wrath or Angus Kendall's false affection. Never again would she endure her stepfather's leering glances and sexual advances. .
With a heavy sigh, she stepped back, when another sign nearby claimed her attention. "Vampires!" the sign read. "A danger to the kingdom!" She perused the announcement, noting an award of two golds offered to anyone who could bring a vampire to the attention of the authorities. In spite of her depression, she smiled, for it seemed an easy way to make money, if one knew any of the undead. Did vampires really exist? she wondered, for surely such creatures were only a figment of imagination. But if they did not exist, why would the government advertise a reward for their capture? She shook her head to clear it, too famished and exhausted to think lucidly.
Seeking diversion, she recalled again the tall, dark man who had surprised her in the cave last night. Best not to think about him, far better to concentrate on her own situation.
After a walk of several blocks, past clothing stores and jewelry shops, she reached a street, appropriately named Tavern Street, lined with inns and taverns, most of which appeared to be respectable establishments. Mostly men trod this street, but Fianna saw an occasional woman, barmaids, she supposed, on errands for their employers. Across from her a hanging sign proclaimed The Snow Leopard, a stone structure with a wide oaken door and multi-paned colored glass windows. She smiled with faint humor. You always wanted to work as a barmaid, didn't you? A sudden decision filled her with renewed purpose. If she failed to find employment serving drinks, she would seek a position as a scryer, for people always liked having their fortunes told. And what better place to try this means of fortune telling than in a tavern, with the many people who surely must frequent the place during busy hours? If she couldn't get a job here, she had no choice but to try other places, but for now, she could barely think past her hunger and fatigue. [nice]
Fianna took a deep breath and trudged across the street to the tavern, thankful it was mid-morning now, the place not likely to be crowded at this time. She tugged at the heavy oaken door and stepped into semi-darkness, needing time for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. As she had expected, only a few customers patronized the tavern at this hour, only light chatter to be heard. She noted the deer heads that dotted the walls, the twenty or so round tables that completed the main dining room. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling, not lit yet, and apparently not until darkness fell. The aroma of fresh bread floated her way, her stomach growling in response.
She stood for several minutes, looking around in indecision, when a man in a black tunic approached, two empty beer mugs in his right hand. Tall and thin, his brown hair sprinkled with gray, he gave the impression of quiet confidence. She assumed he was the owner.
"Madam?" he asked. In dismay, she saw his gaze drift down to her bare feet.
She offered him her most winsome smile, too well aware it would gain her nothing to wear her troubles on her sleeve. "Sir, I'm seeking employment, perhaps as a barmaid."
Setting the mugs on an empty table, he shook his head. "Sorry, I can't help you there. We have all the barmaids we need."
Now was her chance. What would he say? Only one way to find out. "Sir, it occurs to me you might benefit by offering your customers a little extra