The coin pouch was within her arm's reach. Sparrow grinned, set down her tankard and was just reaching toward it with a precarious tilt of the chair when her mark stood up abruptly, swayed on the spot, and started lumbering toward the door to the stairs. Knowing these lead to the travelers' lodgings, she slipped out of her chair and filled her hip flask with the rest of her tea. She gave her mark a seconds' head start before following through the door the eladrin had shut behind him.
The stairs were old and steep. Stepping only on the sides of the steps to avoid creaking, Sparrow crested the stairs and in reaching the landing heard the sound of a key in a lock. She leapt up the remaining stairs just in time to catch a glimpse of the eladrin's teal blue cape vanishing through a door at the end of the hall. Smiling wickedly, Sparrow followed. She peered through the keyhole.
From the eladrin's point of view, the only problem in the world right then was that stupid halfling snoring on the bed opposite. His wretched companion had drunk all the rum in the cupboards and had fallen fast asleep without leaving him any.
Muttering to himself, the eladrin took two steps across the room, hit his toe against a chest of drawers and shouted a curse in elfish. Before she could stop herself, Sparrow snorted loudly. The drunk stopped. He started to walk towards the door, steps weaving dangerously, arm outstretched for the handle.
Sparrow gasped soundlessly, whipped around, saw that there were rafters above her, and jumped.
The hall was empty. Staggering around again, his eye just caught on something lying forgotten on the floor runner. He bent to pick it up and his fingers missed it by at least two feet.
This guy is really drunk! Thought Sparrow from above. She was crouched like a monkey in the middle of two diagonal wooden posts, watching the drunk elf examine the arrow she'd left lying on the ground as a distraction.
He was turning it over in his hands, seeing through blurred eyes the form of a flying sparrow at its tip. The beak and the edges of the wings were razor sharp and made of bronze tipped wood, from a black-locust tree. Sacred runes ran along it's stem in faded gold.
Sparrow realized with a start that he could read them, and hoped like hell he was too drunk to make them out.
No luck.
"She who is wild at heart shall always be free." Sparrow noticed the smoothness of his voice and decided he must be of higher class than she first thought. But he was drunk. And the fact that he was better off always meant more money to be had.
As the man tried to find the right door again, Sparrow leapt down easily from the rafters and was inside his room before he could even turn towards the noise. She made her way forward into the suite, and was just examining a very valuable looking sword when the eladrin stumbled through the room, door hitting wall with a resounding crash. Surprise formed on his face as he looked at her. His eyes too blurry to make anything out properly, he moved toward the figure. "That my sword." He blurted out tipsily. And he reached for a magic staff by the wall.
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