A/N thank you to Kate of Carley for her review LOL it's my first!
Muttering to himself, Arram rummaged anxiously through his belongings, tossing clothes, food, coins, and so on into two non-descript travelling bags.
When he was halfway through a drawer, he suddenly realised that he was wearing his black mage's robe. He cursed, realising that it would tell anyone that he was a black robe; the highest level a mage could rise.
He quickly stripped them off, before slipping into a plain but well-made tunic and leggings, before pulling on a pair of boots that came up to mid-calf, and settling a dark cloak around his shoulders. He removed the ornate chain that held the cloak on, and threaded a mere leather thong through the holes. He topped it all off by added a non-descript dagger to his belt.
- better to be safe than sorry – he thought dryly as he secured the dagger sheath.
After he had gotten all he could fit into the bags, his anxious thoughts turned to Varice, his blonde lover. He couldn't ask her to come with him, their relationship wasn't really like that, it was more for pleasure on their parts than anything else.
Sighing, he shouldered his bags and cautiously opened his door, taking a last look at his apartment, which was now dark due to the fact that as Harwin had left a breath of air had seeped into the room and blown it out.
Leaving the apartment door locked, he quickly dodged into the shadows and looked around cautiously, jumping at the slightest sound. As soon as he had judged that there was no one currently in the vicinity he crept down to the docks, cringing whenever he heard guards.
After another half-hour, he finally arrived at the docks, where he wandered until he found himself outside a run-down old pub, going by the name The Seagulls Spirit, from which came the sound of brawls.
Hesitating, the young man looked doubtfully at the building, half-expecting it to fall down at any moment. Sighing, he squared his shoulders and entered the building, stooping so to fit his tall frame through the door.
As soon as he entered, a young red-headed woman glided over to him, her dress insufficient to even attempt to cover her rather large bosom. She batted her eyelashes at him seductively, before speaking in a drawling tone.
"Fancy havin' a li'll tumble, milord?" asked the prostitute, raising an eyebrow at him as she swayed her hips suggestively.
Arram gave her a look, then answered with a small smile. "Not right now, miss, but I would like some information."
The woman cocked an eyebrow, and answered with a cocky smile, "And what might you want to know, that a lowly little lass like me might be able to help you with?"
"I was wondering if you know if there are any sea captains that are leaving port anytime soon, and if any might be willing to take passengers."
"And where might you be wanting to go?" she asked him, leaning against a table.
"Tortall, most probably."
"Well, you could try ol' Garrod over there," she said, nodding towards the left, and when Arram looked, he spotted an almost-decent looking man sat and traded banter with another man whom Arram could not see.
When Arram thanked the woman, she merely shrugged, her dress falling lower, and glided over to where another man was staring at two exotic dancers on the bar.
Arram slowly made his way over to the man, trying not to draw attention to himself. When he stopped before the man, he waited for him to finish his conversation, his good up-bringing kicking in.
When the man finally noticed him, he raised an eyebrow, silently asking him what he wanted.
Arram cleared his throat nervously, before speaking quietly to the man.
"Good evening, sir, I heard that you were heading to Tortall soon, and I was hoping I might be able to buy passage on your ship?" Arram asked hopefully, vaguely noticing that the other person at the table had stood up and left.
"Aye, that is correct, but why would someone like you-" he eyed Arram's well-made clothes, "-who looks as though he's used to living well, want to spend a week and a half on a ship for?"
Arram hesitated, then consented to tell some of the truth. "Well, if you must know, I need to get away from political problems." As he spoke, his shoulders had drooped when he said the word "problems".
The captain eyed the young man in front of him; he was tall, with black hair, a prominent nose and serious eyes, though he thought he detected a spot of humour in eyes.
"All right then, you can buy passage, but-" here he raised his finger and looked at him seriously, "-only if you pitch in and do your fair share of work. I'm not gonna have a layabout on my ship. Now, what's your name?"
Arram's mind raced; of course he couldn't give his real name, Ozorne would discover where he had gone in no time at all. He quickly picked out a name, and spoke it with a small smile.
"Salmalin. Numair Salmalin."
A/N by the way, can anyone tell me what OC and OOC means? I can never understand it when I'm reading other people's stories!
Anyway, review! And tell me wat you all think!