Return to the Night Hall

the Night Hall is filled with the usual bustle and anonymity as it was the night before, and the night before that, and all known nights, preceding the records of most historical documents, including the bible. in the past month, the anonymous donors and orchestrators of the venue have chosen to refurbish, adding velvet curtains on various walls to give the chambers a more mysterious aura, not that such renovations were necessary. the stone never grows old and the candelabras never dim.

    Yimena is preparing herself for the night - will it be long? short? only time will tell, and she sets her shroud over her hair, black with streaks of white that seems to glow red in the firelight. she is from the Sequoia tribe, her heritage whistling through the feathers that drift under the satin that marks the doorway to her wares and services. there is no wind to blow them in, but there rarely needs to be. she picks them up, smells them, puts them in a jar and closes her eyes. it seems she will have a difficult customer today.

    an alchemist searches for a prized ingredient, one deigned illegal by royal seal and law. he thinks it ridiculous, to render unusable a raw material of such worth and value. imagine what could be done with just a pinch! cities could rise from the desert, entire countries could be cured of hunger, it could change a man to the very essence of his living soul - should such a man ever want to change, of course. as is the trade of the Night Hall, he finds what he seeks, and returns home gleeful and prospecting. the Night Hall does not hear his bartering tone again. for he was murdered for his insurrection the very next day.

    the raven man has returned today, but better dressed than usual. a ruffled blouse and red waistcoat, black tailcoat just as meticulous as his clean black hair. you wonder where his rags have gone. his hollow eyes have remained, sunken and uncertain as the day he first walked these halls. but look! it seems he is not alone today, by his side stands a figure in polished regalia - no doubt a noble's child. their face changes with each flicker of a flame - a young male, high cheekbones, blue eyes; a mature woman, a large mole on her left cheek, grey eyes; a young girl with a fox-like smile and arching brows. but the identity of the Night Hall's guests is never an issue worth prying, so most don't notice the changeling with the raven man. the raven returns to his side, carrying a gold coin in its beak and a scroll attached to its leg. the pair depart for now. they will come again.

    there is no escaping the Night Hall.