As Secela got off the train, she surveyed her surroundings, finding a map on one wall of the station. She could read well (the orphanage had given all of the orphans a good education, despite its lack of money), and did so, finding that she was in the town of Veavelle.

                Secela climbed down the steps from the station and walked into the town, wondering what to do next. She supposed she hadn’t really thought through what she was going to do once she had escaped the orphanage. She couldn’t attract too much attention and be sent back there, and she couldn’t get on another train only to be told she didn’t have a ticket and be booted off again. So, as Secela walked through the town, she decided to go to the tavern. She had only read about taverns and other restaurants in books, given that she had lived her whole life in the orphanage, and she imagined them to be lively and rowdy, full of music and dancing.

                Secela walked down the street, looking at the signs on the outside of the buildings, finally finding one with a round sign above the door reading The Hungry Chicken. Below it was a picture of a white hen, who seemed quite happy to be eating a pile of seeds. As she opened the door, she heard no music, saw no dancing, and smelled no food. Instead, she heard nothing, saw cobwebs, and smelled dust. The one room was made completely of a dark wood, with some round tables here and there. From where Secela had seen the sun in the sky, it seemed too early for there to be many people; only three or four were there, eating lunch. Secela went up to the bartender, a pretty lady with brown eyes and short caramel blond hair, with a white apron tied around her waist overtop of her low neckline dress.

                “Now what can I get for you, sugar?” she asked, turning in Secela’s direction. Secela didn’t answer the bartender’s question (she didn’t have any money to buy anything anyway), instead asking,

                “I was wondering if you knew anyone named Alorra lived in this town? Or nearby?”

                “Alorra? You don’t mean Alorra-Kirair Hacena do you?” she gasped, her eyebrows lifting, her chin hovering over her hand, where it had previously been resting.

                “Yes, I do! Do you know her? Where does she live?” Secela asked eagerly.

                “She the governor’s wife of this town and the one next to us, Jadiro,” the bartender answered, then went on, grumbling, “Terribly wealthy that woman is. Heard she just got yet another servant.”

                “How far away does Alorra—uh—Mrs. Hacena live?” Secela wondered.

                “Oh, she lives in Jadiro. It’s a bit too far to walk, but it would only be about a one and a half day’s ride on horseback.”

                “But I don’t have a horse—or any money to buy one with!” Secela exclaimed.

                “Then I suppose you’ll have to find a job somewhere, sugar,” the bartender answered.