Satisfied with both the drink and Galawayn's response, Jakar drained his flagon. He nodded, accepting Sionnie's noncommital answer, and turned to find the other members of the party. The thronging crowd and general revelry combined with the warm, smoky haze that hung in the still air made it no small task. He peered over the railing at the dance floor below. A troupe of musicians in the corner had just struck up a lively tune, and--there! He could see Jethro preparing to dance with a comely dwarven woman. A smile touched his lips. He remembered what it was to be young! Better to let him have his moment than to interrupt with mundane affairs.

	Turning again, he saw Zayga off in a corner with some burly fellows, apparently about to arm wrestle with an especially brutish specimen. He involuntarily snorted at the sight. The woman certainly had spirit! One way or another, someone was about to receive a grand comeuppance. He was sorely tempted to watch, but a quick glance at the elves revealed they seemed nearly ready to leave. He sauntered over to their table and introduced himself briefly. "Greetings, fair ones! I am called Jakar. Forgive me my intrusion in your refreshment, but I am told by the good keeper of the house that you have recently faced peril on your trading routes?"