Now came the part Aristide could do without.
He had disengaged himself from the group successfully, and once well out of sight or earshot booked it back to his room. He was quick about changing into the much sleeker, darker clothing that allowed better freedom of movement and could still pass for street clothing, hurriedly packed the slim stuff sack that carried his very few necessary belongings, and re-slung his weapons, finally covering the whole deal with a nondescript traveling cloak.
A matter of moments saw Aristide outdoors and across the street, subtly concealed, a keen eye on the inn and waiting.
He took a moment to muse on the strange man in the hall, a man he had thought nothing of initially. In retrospect Aristide decided the man had, indeed, either used some form of magic to detect his intentions, or was rather clever and perhaps even more of a quick thinker than himself. He’d nearly disarmed Aristide of all his wit with a simple (and correct) declaration. In either case the man would be an obstacle if he remained with the hawk, and Aristide could only hope he did not.
Aristide knew he would not miss the sleep he would lose watching the inn, even if it proved fruitless. This was time to plan further, to accommodate for the strange man if he did interfere.
