As Brandyé and Elven followed the turns and corners of the small streets of Daevàr’s Hut, night came wholly upon them, and what light there was came only from open doorways, curtained windows, and flickering lanterns along the alleys. From the doors of inns came raucous laughter and sometimes the sound of brawls, but in the streets themselves there were now few people.
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The town was large; perhaps two or three thousand people dwelled there at any given time. There were also visitors, folk who would come and go, but for the most part its inhabitants would live, and die, without straying from its furthest edges. The only time any significant number of people entered the town was on Great Market Day, on the first of each month, when the surrounding farmers and artisans would set up stalls in the central square and sell their goods.
Continue reading It was two years before Brandyé was to see Elven again. Though Daevàr’s Hut was a comfortable six-day ride from Burrowdown, this made it nearly a month by foot, especially over the rough country. The south coach (and its return) was expensive, and as an apprentice Elven earned no pay. As for Brandyé, though he and Reuel were not strictly short for coinage, travel was not undertaken without purpose, and they had no business in Daevàr’s Hut that would warrant the journey.
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Satis Writes 