She left the table first.
The inn's room was thick with the scent of onion and ale, but had few people within it, allowing her departure to go unnoticed. Corin stayed where he was, fingers still worrying the strap of his satchel, eyes on every door like a man who had slept with his back to the walls for years.
Morena carefully fixed her hood and walked out into the light. The bell on the warped door gave a dull clink. The scent of the street met her nose as she exited, the old yeast and smoke.
She didn't go far. She crossed to the alley with the green-lipped barrel and stood in its shade, the corner giving her a slice of the inn's door and the street both.
A few minutes later, when enough time had passed to be certain that no one would be looking, Hark drifted closer, standing to one side of the barrel, but avoiding direct contact.
"Two eyes on the inn."
He didn't look at her when he spoke, his voice low.
"Where?"
