~ Nae'talis ~
"To summon a familiar," she repeats dryly. "Have you ever summoned a familiar, Thayan? I hope you don't mean to take care of it as well as you did your slave."
She turns from Nae'talis and the room and disappears into a door in the back behind the counter. A few minutes go by and Harad returns with an ornate bag he holds carefully out in front of him.
"She is inside, yes?" he places the bag on the counter and knocks on the door behind it.
"Patience! I haven't forgotten your bloody familiar!" Syrriel's voice pierces through the wood. Harad turns from the door and grins widely at Nae'talis. The Justiciar and wizard stare at each other for a few more minutes before Syrriel finally comes out of what must be her bedroom holding several mismatched items Nae'talis can guess are spell components. She glances at Harad, places the things on the counter beside the bag, and opens the expertly stitched sack to dig around inside. She pulls out a long black bird feather and gives it and Nae'talis a significant stare.
"You don't choose the familiar, Thayan. It chooses you." She seems to pause for effect. "These things are hard to come by out here in the wild Marches. You'll also need a small drop of your life's essence - but you already knew that, didn't you. It will cost you a hundred and three gold. Poor Harad here had to walk a great distance in a short time to retrieve that bag; I'd like to buy him dinner for his troubles."
Harad raises a finger and begins to say something in protest but is cut off smartly by a haughty glare from the beautiful elf. He coughs politely instead.