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[Dallen]

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Winter 513, Day 65

Dallen was in his deep crimson overcoat, pulling his hat over his head, preparing to head out, when three sharp raps sounded at his door. Traversing the uneven oak floor, he reached the bolt and latch, and lifting the thick bolt, opened the door. Out in the light dusting of snow, upon Dallen's doorstep, stood a mousy-looking merchant. With greasy, thin hair that fell down to his eyes, and a long, pointed nose, the man, for all intents and purposes, looked like a rat.

Constantly brushing the strands of hair out of his face, the merchant stepped forward and took Dallen's hand. Shaking it briefly, he slipped past Dallen into his house. Indignant, Dallen called out. "Excuse me, sir, but this is my HOUSE that you are slipping into." The man's eyes glazed over, and then refocused. "Oh, yes, you are the McHenderson, the one that draws? Well, my name is Forachmael, and I know your mother.