Placing his hands together in a praying action and bowing slightly, Xeran said, "My gratitude to ye, sir."
High above surly clouds of gray had been steadily building and the temperature had dipped considerably over but a few minutes. Here and there droplets began to tap the already soddy earth. Xeran pulled his cloak close, shuddering just a bit. After furtively taking stock of the village square and finding nothing of particular curiousity, he strode purposefully for the apothecary's shop. Pushing in the shop's door, an array of confusing odors billowed into Xeran's nostrils. Pausing briefly to acquaint himself with the cacophony of herb essences and who knows what else in the room, he stepped inside.
The shop was astrewn with every kind of oddity one could imagine. Flasks, idols, totems, charms, gauges, candles, tools that few knew what they were for. Tomes and scrolls lay on tables, in baskets, tacked to beams, and generally stuffed in nooks and crannies everywhere. Clearly, organization and cleanliness weren't high priorities for the apothecary.
"Well, is he just going to stand there and gawk or have he bizness here?" came a high-pitched, whiny, annoying voice from a back corner of the shop. The voice belonged to a gaunt, well-weathered, bald man wearing a most bizarre pair of spectacles that caused Xeran to raise one eyebrow and smirk in amusement.
"My apologies, good apothecary. I seek the council of your apprentice by the name of Rowan. Where might I seek him?"
"He is hereabouts. Perhaps this traveler is in need of a potion to help him resist the bitter cold about us? Perhaps an elixir needs he for salving of his inevitable wounds, no? For he surely doth present an air of mystery and an eye of vengeance. Hmmm?"
"No need have I of..."
"Need? Need he says! What does he know of need in the unknown lands of the north? But of mine apprentice, find thy purpose satiated through this door," he said motioning to his left. With a nod and a tip of his cap, Xeran proceeded through the side door.