The lights of the tavern attracted him like a candle attracts a moth. He walked in and took a seat by the bar. The bar was silent and dark. There were slivers of light here and there, hinting motion. Nife's eyes adjusted to the darkness and he made out figures sitting on tables. There was an old woman sitting in a far corner. As far as Nife could tell, she had no business being here, but there she was. He ignored her and threw a few coins on the bar. The jingle of gold stirred few shadows from the semi-darkness in the bar. The barkeep appeared behind the bar and the coins vanished under an expert swish of his hand.
"And what shall sir have tonight?"
Nife pointed at the barrel on the other side of the bar. The barkeeper grunted and disappeared back into the darkness.
Sitting on the table in the bar, Nife felt the peculiar sensation of being observed. He turned around on the stool and saw a pretty girl staring back at him. She was close and he could smell her perfume, heavy and cloying like something alive. Her hand touched his leg and slowly snaked up his trousers. He caught her wrist before she reached the bag of gold. She smiled at him and bit the tip of her tongue between her teeth.
"Would sir like to go somewhere private?" she whispered in his ear.
Nife was once again amazed at the change gold made to a person's chances. Earlier he had to drag women out in private places, and now she was taking him there. He smiled back at the girl and she giggled a shrill laugh.
The old woman in the other corner of the bar saw the exchange happening. She held the nail that hung around her neck and pulled at the string. She smelled competition and she did not like it even a single bit.
As Nife and the girl made their way out of the bar, to a back alley, the Nailwidow got up from her chair and followed them.
Three more, and then we plunge into nanowrimo :)