The sun has long since set as K?spar sits on the front steps of the Styd?n temple, leaving him alone in a snowy microcosm. Since the 9th, he has spent all waking hours, about sixteen per day, loitering outside the temple in the cold, only occasionally leaving to get food. Many other ideas had passed through his mind of ways to get the attention of the high priestess’s brother—breaking some of the temple’s windows? too destructive; telling her he wants to speak with her brother? probably won’t end well, especially if the brother is as influential as he seems; at one point, he had even considered walking into the temple and punching the high priestess in the jaw but had decided against this for obvious reasons—simply loitering and acting as suspicious as possible was the only logical choice; if someone asked, he could simply say he is waiting for someone, and they will think he has been stood up and leave.

  The soft crunch of snow slowly grows louder on K?spar's left.

  “How many more days do you intend to sit outside of the temple for? You don’t look homeless.” Estynn asks from within the falling snow.

  Standing up, K?spar looks toward the voice. A man walks towards him, coming into view under a streetlamp, stopping just shy of ten meters away—close enough to be heard clearly, but far enough away to react in case their encounter escalates. He’s a large man with broad shoulders, just slightly shorter than K?spar—average height. “It depends; I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Who?” Estynn says calmly, brushing snow off of the left shoulder of his greyish-blue overcoat.

  K?spar watches the lamplight reflect off the polished steel dusters on the man’s hand. He doubts the man realistically needs them; his hands are already the size of the fattest chicken a peasant will ever see. “I’m not sure. I expect him to come to me... and I think he has.”

  Tensing, Estynn rolls his shoulders, trying to make himself appear larger, seeing that the loiterer his sister had told him about is either not intimidated or plain stupid. “He hasn’t; whoever you think I am—I’m not. I’m here to tell you not to be seen by this temple or Styd?n ever again.

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  Unbuttoning his overcoat, K?spar pushes it back and places his hands on his waist, making sure the rondel dagger sheathed under his arm is in view. “What authority do you have to tell me I cannot wait outside a temple? Was I making the high priestess uncomfortable?”

  Estynn, disquieted by this man’s question, shifts a foot forward.

  “I am, aren’t I?” K?spar takes a step forward. “Is High Priestess ?lehra Ny?? your sister?” The man curls his right hand, keeping his left open. “No, no; no need for that. I’m not here for her; I’m here to talk to you.” K?spar pauses, drumming his fingers on the pommel of his dagger. “So please, relax; it would be best if you kept the snow on this sacred ground white.”

  Estynn backs up. “Then talk.”

  “I would like to know who I’m talking to first.” K?spar stops, not wanting the man to back out from under the streetlamp.

  Furrowing his brow, Estynn hesitates but answers honestly. “Estynn Ny??. And you?”

  K?spar pauses, glances around, and runs his hand over his stubble. “Sn?wynn Crylwyr.”

  Estynn cocks his head at Sn?wynn; he knows a Sn?wyn, but the masculine ending is queer. “Odd name for a man; parents fond of winter [1]?”

  “My mom is; she insisted on it; born on the winter solstice.” K?spar chuckles; Estynn clearly hasn’t let his guard down, but small talk is better than threats of violence.

  “So, what business do you have with me?” Asks Estynn; clearly Sn?wynn knew enough about him to conclude he could get his attention through ?lehra. “Mar?l should know well enough not to come near ?lehra. If he sent you, turn around and don’t stop walking.”

  K?spar exhales sharply through his nose. “Neither of us is very fond of Mar?l Humel, I see. No, he hasn’t sent me. I want to work with you; mutually beneficial—”

  “I don’t believe you.” Estynn snaps.

  “Oh? You don’t?” K?spar had spent more than enough time in the underworld to know that this was coming; he’s probably going to make him complete a task to prove that he isn’t, in fact, working for Mar?l Humel.

  “I don’t. Meet me at the bridge over the Lun?r at noon tomorrow.” Estynn backs out of the light and disappears back into the snow.

  With a chuckle, K?spar agrees and heads back to the River’s Run Tavern and Inn.

  Footnotes

  [1] Sn?w means snow in Ianian.