"So are we trying to make it safely to Eerwayh or not?" the nomad asked sternly, looking more at the two elves but not discounting Matner. "Because Running off like this and backtracking is only making it harder."

Matner held his tongue, afraid both of getting in the way and of getting himself in trouble. He still could not tell if Dir Ketten had disapproved of his actions, or was just upset that he had let Ahriender away. Or worse, did he think Matner had driven Ahriender off?

"Maybe it was foolish," Ahriender said, "but at the time I wanted to go home to Ben, where I had been hiding originally. Since we left Tikor, Mother and I have only caused trouble and gotten people hurt. It just seems like other people are safer if we're by ourselves."

"But you're not," Dir Ketten said, sounding very much the upset father.

"I know, Matner explained," Ahriender replied. Dir Ketten turned to Matner. He thought the nomad looked like he was just wanting to know what was said, not some accusation demanding explanation.

"I explained that we had--well, I did, anyway--promised to keep them safe. That we wanted to keep them safe, and that we intended to see that through. We're all in this together until we find a place for them to live." Dir Ketten nodded. If it was not approval, it at least looked agreeing.

"The supplies I bought will not carry us to Eerwayh. I have a couple of weeks worth, which would have been about half the distance we still needed to go. Now it'll be less."

"Still so far?" Ahriender asked, exasperated. "Where is this Eerwayh?"

"It is one of the two Easternmost cities of what used to be the Elven nation," Sharnellynn explained. "The next city we will pass by should be Garzer Keep, and then Eerwayh will be the next along that road. Garzer Keep was originally built along the Elven and Human border, so that the Humans could make sure that the Elves didn't build armies there. Eerwayh was built as a place to allow Humans to come to for trade. We didn't have as many cities as the Humans tend to build. We like smaller communities, where we all know one another. Even so, the Elven cities were amazing to behold..." she trailed off, a wistful look on her face, as she obviously was caught up in memory.

"Assuming we don't run into more problems, and we skirt around Garzer Keep, as we did Miln, taking a couple of days while I buy more supplies, we should arrive in Eerwayh in about five weeks," Dir Ketten said, sounding stern. "The sooner we are back on the road, the sooner we will get there. I have news from a message runner that Old Fredrickson did survive the attack, although he could not tell me for sure who else was with him. Once we reach Eerwayh, we will pretend again that the two of you are still slaves so that we can stay in the city and wait for the Dwarf."

He made it all sound so simple when he said it, and Matner wished that he could look at the situation with such an easy viewpoint. In his head, he was already thinking about food supplies and other logistics involved with the travel there. But Dir Ketten's words seemed to placate Ahriender, at the very least. While the boy still looked frustrated at the time it was going to take to get there, he at least seemed to be accepting the fact of it. Sharnellynn nodded, still looking a little sad and lost in her memories.

"Can we afford another day here?" Matner asked. "It might seem rude for us to just take off as soon as you arrive. The horses seem to be benefitting from the rest, too."

"We have been pushing the horses," Dir Ketten agreed, "although I have been making sure that we have not been pushing them too far."

"This is the only place we've been able to stop and rest since we left," Matner pointed out. "A lot has happened since then, and there's no telling when we'll get another chance like this."

"One more day will not be a problem," Dir Ketten eventually said.

After that Ahriender all but ran and skipped to the house. "I hope we can find friends for him where we're going as easily as he has found them here," Sharnellynn said.

"If nothing else, Matner suggested, "if we have some problems you can use this as proof that we can find good places, even if we have to keep looking."

"That's true. Thank you, Matner," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder briefly before following her son to the house.

"You are growing," Dir Ketten said.

"What do you mean?" Matner asked.

"In the past you usually defered to my suggestions. This time you stated an opinion that differed. It was something more for them than for you, I think, and you defended it."

"I...um... thank you," was all Matner said in response. He wasn't sure what else to say. While several things ran through his head at once, he felt that putting voice to them might just put a damper on what Dir Ketten had said.

The nomad did not say more, but merely turned and headed into the house. Matner followed him, wondering what all the man might have been thinking just then.

There was one cot left and it was moved into the room that Sam and Timothy shared so that Dir Ketten could sleep there. It didn't take long before everyone had gone to bed. Matner found himself lying in the cot, thinking about what Dir Ketten had said. He, too, wanted the extra day of rest, but he had really asked for Ahriender's sake. He also knew that Sharnellynn needed the reminder that they could be accepted somewhere, even if this wasn't the place she longed for. He also found himself wondering more and more what the Elven lands looked like, remembering her expression whenever she talked about her homeland.

Of course, they aren't the Elven lands anymore, are they? he reminded himself. The Humans own them now. It felt odd, as he realized that he had just seperated himself from his own race in his thoughts. He also thought of Dir Ketten again, and that the nomad was "Human" too. The Elven lands didn't belong to all Humans, just the nation of New Callest. Matner found himself wondering about other Humans in the world other than his own nation. He'd heard of pirates on the seas who didn't hold allegiance to anyone, and there was mention in some of his classes of other Human nations across the waters. New Callest itself had been three nations once, but the other two had been conquered by one of the earlier Kings.

He had never really paid as much attention to wars and politics beyond the soldiering end of things. But now, he found himself thinking of the other nations, wondering if maybe some of them might be more accepting of Sharnellynn and Ahriender. He had no way of knowing. As he drifted off to sleep, however, he reminded himself to pose that question to Sharnellynn and Dir Ketten the next chance he had. He thought it might be a good idea to think of other options in case the contact Old Fredrickson had couldn't help them.

The next day was a day of hard work. Ella took advantage of having both Dir Ketten and Matner around and send them out with Karl to remove two old stumps that prevented efficient use of one of the fields. If they could be removed, then winter wheat could be planted there in the fall for early spring.

With axes and shovels they went out to the field and Karl pointed out the offending stumps. They were the corpses of old oak trees. Matner wondered how much of the farm had been built of those two trees. The trunks were easily a yard across.

There was a little bit of rot evident, but not enough that the trunk could be just battered into pieces and removed like a rotten tooth. Matner wondered what the plan was.

Dir Ketten led them, directing with axe and shovel and showing by example. They fell into a rythm wordlessly. Digging, chopping, cutting. They dug a ring around the trunk, excavating down to the major roots. They they took turns hacking with axes. One axe moved out of the way as the next one came down. The three-beat rythm turned into a sort of music to Matner, and he realized later that they had cut through the biggest roots and he could not even remember having a conscious thought.

They were all wet with sweat, but Matner at least did not feel tired at all. He felt an unexpected energy, and wanted to continue. They drank water and went back to work, all without a word. Dig-dig-dig and chop-chop-chop went the rythms. The next thing he knew they were looping rope around it and helping the horses--all teamed together as if pulling one of Old Fredrickson's wagons--haul the stump out of the ground. Matner looked at the big cavity left in the field. He could just about put a tarp over it and call it shelter.

Karl held a hand up, gestering to wait, and ran inside. He came back with bowls of potato and more water. They ate lunch in silence alongside the big chunk of gnarled tree corpse set out of the way alongside the barn. It was heavy enough to tether animals to, Matner thought.

The second stump was a little smaller, with roots a little thinner. They made a little bit quicker work of it, again without a word and with the same three beat rythm. After that, Karl mentioned that he needed to inspect a field. It felt odd to hear him speak, and it looked as though Karl had not wanted to but had no choice.

Dir Ketten and Matner took the two stumps and chopped them down into smaller, more manageable chunks with the time left before dinner. Dir Ketten would indicate a line with his hand and they would chop along it. This time it was a two-beat chopping that sounded like a hearbeat to Matner. Chop-chop, chop-chop, chop-chop; the activity itself became like some living thing of which they were just important parts.

Before Matner had even really realized it, they were done and Karl had returned with a barrow to haul the pieces away with. Once they'd loaded the last of the stump into the barrow, Matner looked back at the two gaping holes in the field. He wondered where the dirt would come from the fill them and level out the field. He supposed Karl had a plan and it would be filled and the field tilled and planted. A part of him was sad that he would not be around to see it happen. He'd never grown or built anything, he realized. No, I was trained to destroy. At least he'd been able to put those skills to good use today.

They trekked back to the house, with Karl pushing the barrow, and unloaded it in a stack by some stacks of firewood. Then the three of them were instructed to bathe before coming to the dinner table. They took turns in the tub, washing quickly, and were only barely finished before Ella was ringing the dinner bell.

Matner's muscles ached as he sat down to dinner, but the meal itself felt like one of the best he'd ever tasted. There were small steaks, from the cow he'd helped slaughter the day before, along with some buttered carrots, bread, and some buttery mashed potatoes. Ella also served up some appe pie she'd made during the day. Technically, none of it was exotic or unusual in any way, but the taste of the food itself seemed both vivid and comforting to him.

He enjoyed watching the commotion after dinner. The kids played and read with each other. He offered to help with the dishes, and Ella thanked him. Sharnellynn joined in as well, and they got the kitchen cleaned up fairly quickly.

"What do you normally do to relax?" Sharnellynn asked Ella.

Ella at first just smiled, looking over at Ahriender sitting in a circle reading with some of the others. "I watch them grow," she answered after a little while. Matner thought about Karl knowing the crops as they grew, and saw her in that same kind of light watching the children grow. Yes, this is good, he thought.

He looked over at Dir Ketten, unable to read what the nomad might be thinking while he watched the youths. The man sat stoicly as he often did. Matner noticed he did not have his little book out to do his scribbling and writing in.

"We should probably get going in the morning," Matner said to Ella. "I wanted to thank you for your hospitality. You have been great to us."

"Ya'll have been great helpers," she replied, "and the kids'd never seen elves a'fore, so I think it was good fer them, too. There's forever a place here for ya'll, if'n ya ever need it. Your clothes've been mended as best we could. Keep the stuff ya've been wearing. It's all extras anyways, and ya'll could use 'em."

"Thank you," Matner said. "That's very kind of you. You don't have to give us things, though. What you have is limited, so it's all of value."

"Heh, what's value?" she asked. "If it's extra an' we don't need it, then it's got more value for ya'll. Kindness and generosity have value, too, so we're just giving back in exchange. Call it an even trade, if ya like."

"Well, thank you again," he said again, hoping he was expressing the gratitude he felt. She just smiled and said nothing in responsee, still watching the children reading.

That night he slept the best he had in a long time, and not just because of how tired his body was from working on the stumps. In the morning, his muscles still ached some, but he felt rested and ready to travel again. His armor had been cleaned surprisingly well, and his clothes had been mended. He noticed that the most recent of the shirts that Sharnellynn had borrowed had been returned to his belongings as well, and he tucked it away with a brief smile. He wondered if she'd need to borrow it again or if they'd manage to keep their clothes intact this time.

They ate breakfast with everyone, and there were a barrage of questions about where they were going. He mentioned heading towards Eerwayh, but explained that it was not their final destination. It helped, in a way, that he didn't know where they'd eventually end up, since he didn't want to lie to them or mislead them but was still worried about people following Sharnellynn and Ahriender. Then he found himself busy answering questions about his sword and armor instead, mostly from the boys, and enjoyed answering their questions. Breakfast seemed to go by too quickly and he almost regretted when they headed out to the barn, followed by a stream of children who grabbed up their bags to help bring them out. The horses were saddled and loaded in short order and seemed eager to be back on the road again. Then everyone said their goodbyes and they were off again, on the path back towards the main road and the river.

There was a silence for miles before anyone spoke, a sharp contrast to the babble of excited children that they had left behind at the farm. Matner knew he wasn't the only one thinking about them and what possible life they could have led if they had stayed. He reminded himself again that Ahriender and Sharnellynn would not have remained safe there forever. The sooner they found the place where they would be, the better.

Ahriender seemed the most saddened to go, which really did not surprise Matner. The boy rode in melancholy silence, looking mostly around at the fields and trees, but often looking behind them. It was not the furtive glance of someone wary of pursuit.

Sharnellynn rode taller in the saddle, looking as though the baths she had soaked in had sloughed away more than just dirt and sweat, but also some of the worry. She looked hopeful. She did occasionally look back behind them, but mostly she was looking foward--looking at where they were headed.

Dir Ketten was not much more readable than normal, and certainly no more talkative. He looked relieved to be moving again. Matner wondered if the nomad actually grew more and more restless with every day spent not moving. He again wondered what kind of life the nomad had left behind him.

Matner listened to the occasional hawk calling out its shrill warning to the world. He watched tree branches sway in a gentle breeze that carried a hint of something musky and perhaps herbal. Mostly it smelled like outside, although it frustrated him that he was not good at being able to identify and name things.

Clouds built gradually during the day, but they provided some shade from an otherwise bright and glaring sun. Even by the time they stopped for dinner the clouds had only managed to cover half the sky or so, and they were still light and fluffy. They were not dark and menacing, and did not look like they threatened rain just yet. They looked to be fast-moving, and he supposed they might go away before dropping any rain.

That night it almost seemed strange to set up camp, and he was surprised at how accustomed to a bed he'd already grown in just a couple of nights. Dir Ketten showed them the supplies he had picked up, which included two used bedrolls he'd bought off a merchant at the marketplace. They were a little worn around the edges, but still had plenty of life left in them and Sharnellynn and Ahriender both seemed very grateful for them.

He had also added a pot and some other necessities to the bags, along with the bags of food, mostly preserved or died items. Their dinner seemed small in comparison to the meals they'd been eating at the Kevendish farm, but Dir Ketten carefully portioned them out to try and make them stretch until they reached Garzer Keep.

"We can make the food stretch if we do some hunting and foraging along the way," Dir Ketten informed them. "Perhaps some fish from the river as well."

He showed them a small net he had purchased and told them he would use it to fish on the nights they spent closer to the river. Then, once they had been through the supplies, everything was carefully packed up again and they went to sleep, arranging three watches, including Sharnellynn. She had the first watch, followed by Matner and then Dir Ketten decided to take the morning one. It took Matner some time to fall asleep. He lay on his back, looking at the clouds and the stars when the clouds broke a little. They had camped at the far edge of a field, next to a cluster of trees, and treetops waved back and forth on one side of his view. Eventually, it seemed as if the trees were what lulled him to sleep.

Naturally, it seemed no time at all before Sharnellynn woke him by calling him quietly. It was not a concerned sounding voice, so he did not wake up abruptly.

"It's been quiet," she said. She was squatting next to him, balanced on the balls of her feet as if it would be perfectly natural to squat like that for hours on end, as if that was how she always sat.

"No sign of anything to be concerned about," she continued. "Not even a single howling wolf." The clouds had grown a little heavier. The night borrowed the colors away from her, leaving her face looking softer for being too pale. It was a very pretty face. He looked down while sitting himself up. He stretched some stiffness out of his shoulders. He already missed having a bed.

"I watched you sleep, for a while," she said.

"Oh?" he said, not quite sure how else to respond. He felt a little awkward, feeling as though she was specifically watching every little move he made.

"All of you," she went on. "Dir Ketten falls asleep very easily. It's like he feels at home everywhere. Ahriender sleeps like all children do--quickly and deeply once they settle down enough. You, though. You had trouble falling asleep. I didn't think you had too much trouble with it before the farm. Did something change, or was it just a couple of nights in a bed?"

Matner laughed. "Well, I do miss a bed, but I don't have a problem sleeping on the ground. I think you'll end up appreciating that bedroll Dir Ketten got you. You might as well get some sleep," he suggested, already expecting Dir Ketten to wake them bright and early.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for sleep," she said. "That's another thing I've been able to think about while you were asleep. A lot of things have changed in the last few weeks. My whole life, actually. But I don't have anyone I can talk to about it. I don't even have a friend to talk to. I..." she stammered a little. "Is there any chance we can be friends, or have I been too...mean...to you?"

"I thought we'd already agreed to be friends?" he said, thinking back to their conversation at the barn.

"I know, but I wasn't sure if... how far that extended..."

"I don't put limits on my friendships," Matner told her with a smile. "What is it you want to talk about?"

She was silent for a minute and he tried to break the tension by pulling on his boots and standing up, stretching a little more in the process.

"How about we sit by the fire?" he suggested, gesturing over at the center of their little camp. "It could probably use a little stirring anyway."

She nodded, and they went over and took spots on the ground by the fire. Matner grabbed up one of the longer, thick sticks that were sitting in a pile nearby and poked at the logs in the flames, pushing them around and causing a flurry of small sparks to rise, swirling into the air. He tossed another log in on top of them once he had them settled better. Then he set the stick aside and looked over at Sharnellynn, who was watching the flames as if she saw something in them other than the fire.

"So what's troubling you?" he asked.

"I'm just so...alone right now. Ahriender and I aren't quite the same. And sometimes I feel...guilty. I took him from a place he was happy. He couldn't have stayed there forever, I know. But he was happy there, and then he's found nothing but trouble once we left. Then we end up at that farm, with people that welcomed him in right away. And we took him away from that, too. I don't want him to feel like every time he finds a place he likes that I'll take him away from it." She stopped abruptly and slouched down, as if saying it had taken something out of her.

"But even though they took him in," Matner countered, "even though they accepted him, the neighboring townsfolk wouldn't have. We're still in lands that view elves as slaves because that's what they've been told and they don't know any better."

"It was farmlands like this that a lot of soldiers came from for the Flesh War. How many of those farm men and boys never came home? To a lot of these people, it probably seemed like it wasn't their war they were losing fathers and husbands and sons for. But as we get farther on we'll get to lands that better understand what was going on. And we'll get to places where the number of elves is higher. Then you'll both be able to blend in better. That'll make things both easier and safer. You are doing the right thing for him, and he'll understand that eventually."

"I'm worried," she said. "I'm worried that my own people will reject him because of the human blood in him. Some of them might even reject me, and try to blame me from him. I want to protect him from all that, and I don't know how. I don't know what I'll do if my own people send us away. Then I'll really be alone."

"I was thinking about that myself," Matner told her. "There are other Human nations out there that I've heard of. Like Dir Ketten's lands. Perhaps, if we need to, we can try other lands. There has to be a place for you out there. I just know it."

"But how far do we have to travel to find it?" she asked, looking frustrated. "Already, Ahriender seems unhappy with the constant traveling. How long can I keep asking him to travel for? A boy his age needs friends his own age. And schooling. Ben taught him many things already, and I've been trying to also teach him the ways and language of my people before we get there, but when I was his age I was receiving formal schooling for such things. I feel so inadequate to provide the things he should be having. Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off staying put. He liked where he was with Ben. And how many lives is it going to cost to get him to freedom and safety, Matner? How many lives has it cost already? I was taught that all life is precious, and I have to wonder, is all of this worth it? What if all the problems we've had along the way are just signs that I should have stayed in Tikor." She said the name of the city itself with obvious distaste and shuddered at the mention of it.

"And if he'd been discovered there?" Matner asked. "They probably would have killed both Ahriender and Ben. And probably you too."

"And then Raleth would still be alive. And Linden. And we don't know yet how many of Old Fredrickson's people survived. All because of me. You've been wounded for me as well..."

She trailed off, looking at his hand. There was still a light bandage on it, but it had healed considerably in the time spent at the farm. Whatever had been in the salve Ella had put on the bite marks had been both soothing and hastened the healing. He'd hardly noticed it since.

"Wounded, yes. But I'm not dead," he replied, flexing the hand as if to prove it to her. "And Raleth and Linden, and all the others too, agreed that they wanted to help you, Sharnellynn. They made the choice. Any time you take up a weapon as a career, you go knowing you will be put in situations that could get you killed. I'd rather think that it should make you all the more determined to finish this journey, knowing that they willingly gave their lives so that you could."

"It's just not our way...not really the elven way," she tried to explain. "We don't put ourselves ahead of others. So many people should not have to suffer for two people."

"But it is the human way," he countered. "We do what it takes to do things we consider right. That's partly why we fought in the Flesh Wars. Maybe we would have had to eventually anyway. But we did not wait until the last minute, watching your people die off completely. When it became clear that you were going to need our help, we took up arms and marched off to help."

"Admittedly, the King did negotiate a price for that, but that meant nothing to the men who marched off and never came home, and it meant nothing for their families. But still they went."

"A price," she said with what might have been a little resentment. "That seems to be the human way, too. What price will you expect from me?"

He held his tongue, not letting himself react in anger. "Hey," he said, gently, "come on now, that's not how friends talk. A while back I promised to help you both find a home and keep you safe. Did I say anything at the time about, 'but only if...'?"

"No," she conceded. "I'm sorry. Life has made me a little bitter, I think."

"Your life is changing, Sharnellynn," he said, putting a hand on her knee. It was warm, and he liked touching it. That brought thoughts probably inappropriate to his mind. He pushed them aside, leaving the hand where it was and not reacting physically. She seemed not to mind. He did not want to think he was avoiding her. After a moment he did remove his hand, but at a moment that felt natural to do so.

"Ahriender can be raised in a larger world than just the one house he had with Blue Ben. Yes, sometimes it'll be hard and scary. But I think those are the things that make life worthwhile. I myself would rather life a life of danger than live in a cage. Maybe you understand that viewpoint..."

To his surprise, she burst into tears, which he hadn't expected at all. He immediately regretted making the comparison and reached out a hand to comfort her, this time touching her arm gently and avoiding her knee entirely.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you..." he wasn't sure what to say at first, unsure of whether she even wanted to talk about it.

"It's not you," she said unhappily. "It's just... I don't... why, Matner? Why did it have to be like that? I know Elves are considered to be proud and arrogant, and maybe we are a bit, but we would never have treated Humans like that if the roles had been reversed..."

He knew she wasn't talking about Ahriender anymore, but her own experience, leaving him to wonder just what had happened to her over the years she had been enslaved. He'd never seen his father's slaves treated much differently than those his father hired, but he'd heard stories of other slave owners who weren't as kind. He wasn't sure there was anything he could do to change what had happened.

"Maybe if you talked about it?" he tried. "It might feel better if you let it out?"

"I don't know..." she replied, shaking her head. "I don't know that I'm ready to talk about it yet. It's just too much."

She put her head in her hands, crying some more, and he slid himself over and put an arm tenatively around her shoulders. He wasn't sure if he should, but she leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder. Her hair smelled faintly of something he couldn't place.

"It's alright," he told her. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But if you decide you do, I'll be here."

"Thank you," she said, "for understanding." He was not entirely sure he did, but he knew better than to say so. For the moment he just held her against him, hugging her. She seemed to feel comforted by it.

Eventually she admitted that she should get some sleep. He took his arm from around her and she straightened up. She went and slid into her bedroll. He watched the fire for a while.

He listened to the sounds of the night. They were, for the most part, the same as every night had been. But because his spirits were higher, the sounds of the night seemed comforting and welcoming, instead of creepy and ominous. He was not straining to hear distant wolves. Instead he heard the night birds calling here and there. It seemed peaceful.

The clouds had not gotten any thinner, so it was a dark night. The fire lit what it could, but could only reach so far. The darkness made the sounds even nicer to hear. They made the night not so empty, bringing life into a void beyond the reach of the little fire. Even still, the dark made it harder to stay awake through the watch. The fire and the sounds helped enough.

Maybe it would be easy from here out, he dared to suggest to himself. Maybe they were far enough away from Tikor that any pursuit had either turned back or lost the trail. Maybe as long as they kept from really being noticed they could avoid trouble the rest of the way. He supposed that at this point every day they traveled brought them further from danger and made them a little bit safer.

Those were the thoughts he had when he woke up Dir Ketten. All he said to the nomad was that it had been a quiet, uneventful, pretty night. He slept easily and quickly. When he awoke Dir Ketten had breakfast nearly ready. The clouds to the east were picking up that glow of a sunrise waiting to peek through on the land below. Matner yawned and stretched, ready for more days of putting danger farther behind them.

Over the course of the next week of travel, it seemed that he was right. They stayed closer to the river than the road, although sometimes they veered back to the road when the trees at the river's edge became too dense or in some areas where the ground itself was soft and marshy. When they did travel the road, they occasionally saw other travelers. They kept their distance, however, and Matner would just smile and nod as they passed them by, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

In the evenings, Dir Ketten resumed teaching Ahriender how to use his staff, while he also continued to show Matner more about his style of swordsmanship, as well as showing both of them some hand-to-hand maneuvers he knew. Sharnellynn would make them all dinner while quietly shaking her head over the whole thing.

After that first night, he and Sharnellynn would talk a little bit when she woke him for his watch shift each night. While he learned a little more about the Elven culture, she didn't seem ready to talk more about herself, generally. She did ask him a lot of questions about himself, and he found himself talking about his experiences at the academy and with his father. The more they talked, the less resentful he began feeling about his father's attempts to push Matner into a career in Calster. He supposed that his father had really been attempting to protect him and make sure he stayed safe. A part of him began feeling a little guilty for going off without saying goodbye, and he found himself writing a letter to both of his parents and tucking it away to send off by pigeon once they reached a city they could safely enter. Just having the letter written helped him feel better about it all.

During the next week they settled into a bit of a routine. Dir Ketten was having increased success fishing in the morning during his watch. Nights were passing uneventfully, and working a net in the water for a short while seemed an acceptable risk. They all agreed it was unlikely they were being chased still. All they had to do now was not attract undue attention.

Evening training was progressing well, and Ahriender was beginning to look fairly competent with the staff. Again Matner and Sharnellynn had the chance to be amazed at how quickly the boy learned. More than once Matner described it as seeming more like the boy was remembering something he had already learned.

During some of the night shifts Sharnellynn took her bath in the cool river in the warm summer night air. Matner would sit and stand at the bank looking in other directions, and both grew comfortable enough with the arrangement. No river monsters attacked her, although he remained nearby and ready just in case. They talked while he tried not to think about the water running over her body. Often it was distracting, but she was slowly becoming more able to talk to him, so he said nothing that might change that.

She eventually started describing the estate she had lived on. It was a large house, although smaller than most of the man's peers. She never mentioned him by name. He would throw lavish parties, attempting to appear more wealthy than he seemed. Showing her off in skimpy clothing seemed to be one of the man's prideful joys. According to her, the man had attrocious taste and had no idea how a woman should be attired. She left out, but alluded to, other ways in which he attempted to show her off. Not all the time, apparently, but now and then, which was still far too often. Once was too often, Matner agreed.

In exchange, Matner talked rather frankly about how all the staff at home--human and elven alike--were treated. Sharnellynn apologized one night, saying she had assumed that all slave owners treated their slaves the same. Neither of them could provide much evidence for which was the rule and which the exception.

They grew closer as friends through the week, often also talking during the day. Ahriender would ride off to the side a little, distracted by the things he saw with open fascination that still did not fade. Dir Ketten, of course, stayed out of conversations. But their day conversations were much less intimate and personal than their night ones. In the day they talked culture and history. In the night they talked about themselves. Some nights Matner wondered if they were becoming more than just friends. But he told himself that could not happen. He would find a place for her and Ahriender to live safely, and he would move on.

They saw more and more travelers, the closer they came to Garzer Keep. When the Keep itself came into view, Matner couldn't help but be stunned at the size of it. The walls seemed impossibly tall, and six large towers stood at corners, seeming ominous as the day grew darker. In the center of it, one larger building stood, taller than the towers and easily three times taller than the outer wall itself. All along the tops of the wall, the towers and the inner keep itself, the tops of the walls were notched so that archers could fire between them. Catapults stood, waiting, at the top of each of the towers as well.

The Keep stood at the top of a large hill, and all around it's walls outside were buildings, mostly clustered near the main gate into the keep. Around those buildings, a smaller wall had been built, although it did not appear to be of the same quality of construction as the keep walls, and was only about half as high. It appeared to be more of a deterrant than much else.

Like they did with Miln, they skirted around the city until they found a dense enough cluster of trees to make a hidden camp in while Dir Ketten changed into his farmer's garb and headed off into the city. While he said nothing, Matner found himself a little jealous, wishing that he could have the chance to see the city too. Somehow, he hadn't expected it to be so large, and he commented as much to Sharnellynn, that night as they cleaned up the dishes from the evening meal.

"This nation has always had a great suspicion of the Elves," she told him. "They never trusted that we would keep to our borders. While they said that the keeps were built to be cities of trade with us, it was clear that they were built to be military fortifications. I suspect that it was also that reason that our King felt he could come to them for help. The display of military force would lead one to believe that you were capable of fighting a war from these keeps."

"There are others like it?" he found himself asking, somewhat surprised.

"Randolph Keep, to the north, is just as large, or so I have heard. There are also two, smaller keeps between them, along where the border was. I heard rumors that there was also a smaller one to the north of Randolph Keep and another to the south of this one. I have only ever seen this one before, however."

Most of the land this close to the city was claimed by farmers. But some of it, like the patch of wood they concealed themselves in, was left alone as both forage land and left for wild pigs. Matner at one point even saw one briefly. It looked at him with a tusked snout and turned and scampered away. He did not bother chasing or following it.

They decided watches were still in order, just to be safe. This time it would be Ahriender first, then Matner, and then Sharnellynn. She joked to Matner that she just could not trust him with making breakfast. He went along with it, joking about how it would be a shame to have come this far for him to accidentally poison everyone.

He did find himself wishing they were in the city at an inn as they sat around their small fire and relaxed. They did no training that night. He felt they could all use to just relax. They sat around talking about what life might be like when they found a home.

Ahriender, for his part, was determined to find other boys his age to play with. They would, of course, prepare for exciting adventures traveling the world. The others would naturally be jealous of his having already traveled, but he said he would take it all politely in stride.

Matner found himself thinking of the little pirate brother he had left behind. 'Arrr, Matner,' he could remember with a smile. He suggested he thought maybe he would meet up with Old Fredrickson again and travel with him some more. Maybe see if they could help some other elves find new homes.

Sharnellynn admitted she was not sure what she would do once they found a home. She would be a real mother to Ahriender, of course, but she was not sure yet how she would support them.

When Matner woke her up for her watch, she admitted to being bothered by not knowing. She admitted that her skills were mostly limited to household chores. She did not know what she could do that others of her people would pay for. He reassured her with a hand to her shoulder that she was more resourceful than she gave herself credit for, and that she would find a way to contribute. She put a hand on top of his, and for a moment it seemed like she wanted something more--what he did not know--but it passed quickly.

He did stay up with her into her watch for a short while. They agreed that it was her nature to worry about those things. They also agreed that it was not anything that had to be resolved right away. They were still a couple of weeks away. She said goodnight to Matner with a warmer smile that he liked seeing.

While he felt relaxed and comfortable when he crawled into his bedroll, his dreams were odd and troubling. While he couldn't remember them when he tried to later on, the general impression was of a battle being fought. He could remember the sky being red, as if on fire, and wind swirling around him, pushing him every which way. He couldn't remember who he'd been fighting, or why, but he knew it was important that he win. But he didn't feel as if he'd been winning in the dream. When he woke, it was in a cold sweat and he blinked his eyes to clear them as he sat upright.

Then he saw the man creeping up behind Sharnellynn, as she squatted next to the fire, stirring something that crackled and cooked in the pan. She smiled, and looked over at him, clearly unaware of the danger.

"NO!" He yelled, yanking the sword out of it's scabbard lying next to him. He launched himself up, out of the bedroll as the man swung what looked like a wooden club across against the side of Sharnellynn's head. Then the man stood and faced Matner as two more came out of the bushes behind him. Out of the corner of one eye, Matner saw Ahriender waking in his bedroll, blinking and sitting up to see what was going on. Then Matner was distracted by the blinding pain in his abdomen. He looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his pants. He left it there, continuing his approach, seeing the man with the club grinning as if he'd already won. Most of the man's teeth were missing, and those that weren't looked crooked and rotting.

Sharnellynn hadn't been knocked unconscious, and he watched her try to crawl away, clutching her head with one hand. One of the two men in the back turned and grabbed her arm, and she struggled to get away from him, crying out as she did. Matner swung at the man with the club, and was surprised when the man parried him, knocking the blade harmlessly away. Matner changed to a stance Dir Ketten had taught him, and went for another swing. This time he got in under the man's defense and sliced across at the ribcage. The man's thick leather vest slowed the blade, however, and he hardly drew blood. Matner pulled back, parrying a swing from the club and dodging as the man tried to punch him at the same time. Then he brought his own blade around and under, this time stabbing into the man's abdomen and upwards, underneath the vest. The man's expression changed to one of surprise, followed by pain as Matner pulled it back out and the man fell to the ground. Matner ignored him, turning towards the next.

Ahriender had grabbed up his staff and was fighting the next one already, however Matner could see that the boy was struggling. He stepped forward to assist, when another arrow hit him in the shoulder. He turned his attention, looking in the direction it had come from, to try and find the archer.

It did not take Matner long to find him. He was standing just inside the treeline, at best a dozen yards away. Matner glared and charged. Fortunately, the arrow was in his left shoulder. Even still, it hurt when he ran. The one in his waist did not hurt him, which would have worried him if he had the time to, but it was awkward.

The archer clearly had not been expecting to be attacked. He fumbled nervously for the arrow, and his shot went wide. He was slow and inexperienced, but he had another arrow in place by the time Matner got there.

The archer was about Matner's age, and was dressed in lighter leather than the other attackers. He raised his bow, drawing the arrow back to fire at point-blank range.

Matner slashed through the bow and it exploded into multiple pieces. The arrow careened off to the side, partly propelled and lagely just dropped. The sword continued into the man's arm. Matner drew it back and around for another slash. This one hit the man on the side of a face frozen in an expression of fear. The expression was lost when the sword crunched into the skull and turned the man's head away. The archer landed in a sprawl face down.

Matner turned to see that Ahriender was still holding his attacker at bay, mostly by virtue of the longer reach his staff offered. Sharnellynn held a pan no longer filled with breakfast and dripping. The second attacker was screaming, holding his face. Matner ran back to help.

Sharnellynn swung at her apparently blinded attacker. He tried to back away from her, but she swung and swung in rage. Eventually the man tripped, and she followed him down, continuing to batter him with the hot pan. He stopped moving three or four hits before Matner got there.

Ahriender was having trouble. The last attacker had a knife in one hand and a club in the other. He had not gotten close enough for the knife, but had connected with the club a few times at least. Ahriender's movements were getting clumsy with pain.

Matner stepped to join in and found himself on his knees. His head swam, and he tried to steady himself with his free hand. That made his shoulder explode in pain, and for a moment he lost track of what was going on. The last attacker noticed this and turned enough to swing at Matner.

He brought his sword up, barely managing to deflect the blow, but falling to his side in the process. Fortunately, he saw Ahriender take advantage of the opponent's distraction, and bring his staff around in a low swing, coming up against the back of the man's knees and sweeping out from under him. Matner had a moment of recollection of when Dir Ketten had taught the boy that the right angle or point of attack could give them power over a stronger man, and thought the Nomad would be pleased to see Ahriender using the lesson so effectively as the man went sprawling. Ahriender brought the end of the staff down repeatedly, putting the weight of his body into the endpoint of it. Matner heard at least one bone snap before the man stopped screaming.

Matner took a moment, craning his neck around to be sure there were no more opponents, before looking at the wound in his abdomen. It was high, just below the belt, and he couldn't feel it. He realized that it was probably hurting him more, putting pressure on something, so he dropped his sword to grab hold of the end of the arrow. He grit his teeth against the pain he knew would come, and then pulled with all his might. He heard himself scream as the broad tip of the arrow tore its way back out of his flesh. Then he couldn't seem to hold himself up anymore, and slumped to the ground. Somewhere, in the distance, he could hear Sharnellynn calling his name, but the air around him grew thick with mist so he couldn't see her. Then the mist turned black as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter 12 - Garzer Keep

He used his right hand to check on himself first. The arrows were removed, and there were bandages in place. He was tucked lightly into a bed. The mattress was rather lumpy. He was completely naked except for the two bandages. He found himself clutching the sheet to him, but then chided himself for foolishness. Even if anyone had been in the room they would see nothing he would need to concern himself with.

He was fairly confident there was no one else in the room with him. There was a faint glow in a line that had to have been the bottom edge of a door. Based on that and the window, he decided the room itself was fairly small. Probably a simple bedroom.

Gingerly he poked as his aching shoulder first. It was a little sore, but that was all. How long had it been, he had to ask himself. He was able to make slow movements with his left arm with only some discomfort.

He tested his abdomen. It also was sore and aching, but did not seem damaged. Very, very slowly he tried to sit up. He told himself that at the first pain he would lie himself back down. He felt fine. Just sore and aching. And he was hungry.

They have a magical healer he told himself, seeing no other explanation. The King had one. There had been a second one in New Callest as well, one who could be hired for the right price.

He turned, pulling the sheet with him as he swung his feet off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. It felt cool against the soles of his feet, and he decided it must be stone. He blinked, trying to adjust his eye to the darkness to see more.

We have no money, he reminded himself, so how could I have been healed? He tried to think of Dir Ketten having arrived back to find them after the attack. Perhaps the nomad had more money that he let on, he tried, but his mind was quickly filling with doubt and worry. Where the blazes am I? he finally asked himself, getting to his feet.

He went to the window first and found himself higher up than he expected. From what he could tell, he was about three levels up, inside one of the towers of the Keep. What concerned him more were the two bars crossing over the window, as if to prevent an escape. His stomach spun and rumbled at him, unhappy that he added his worry to the hungriness. He tried briefly to gauge which tower he was in, in relation to the gate, before going to the door. He tried to fold the sheet and tuck it firmly around his waist, before trying the handle. To his surprise, it opened when he pulled it. He squinted for a moment against the light of the lanterns in the next room, before he could see properly again. He looked out into what appeared to be an office, where a man was sitting at a desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. Behind him were shelves filled with books and piles of parchment pieces. It would have seemed reassuring, if it hadn't been for the man's uniform. Matner recognized the King's colors that suggested the man was one of the ranking King's men here, probably a magistrate, based on the amount of stripes the man's uniform had embroidered into the collar of his shirt, and the jacket that hung on a nearby hook.

Oh no! his mind worried, as the man looked up from his writing. Matner attempted to keep his face blank. Without knowing the situation, he wasn't sure yet what the best way to react would be.

"Ah," the man said, nearly but not quite suppressing a yawn, "you're awake. Good."

"Where am I?" Matner tried.

"Garzer Keep. A long way from New Callest. What brings you so far?"

"I'm sorry," Matner said. "I'm still a little confused. We were attacked...just before dawn, I think."

"That was this morning--well, yesterday technically."

"Are you the magistrate here?" Matner asked, leaning against the doorjam a little.

"Yes." The short and curt reply was not encouraging.

"I'm Matner--"

"Yes," the magistrate interrupted. "I've been told who you are. Yet you carried no identifying jewelry, no seals, no signets. The sword does back up the story, assuming it is not stolen. I'll send a letter in the coming days to inform New Callest of your presence here."

"The elf told us you are trying to help return her to her owner after you were separated from your caravan. And yet I have posters here with their two faces claming them to have been stolen. There's a reward. It's a larger amount than I might get selling them here. The girl could fetch a decent amount. The whelp is of limited value. This, I think, presents you with something of a predicament. Would you perhaps care to offer an explanation for how you came across them?"

"I think," Matner said, taking on a tone of voice he'd heard his father use many times with buisiness associates, "that I would be more than happy to explain everything. After I have had a chance to get dressed. Where might my clothes be?"

He glanced down at the sheet he was still holding around his waist with one hand and then raised an eyebrow at the Magistrate.

"Also, you apparently have my name. You are?" He left the question dangling out there, with a slight edge of irritation on it, but worried he might be taking it too far, when the man gave him a once over before answering.

"Prenish. Magistrate Ardon Prenish. I suppose it won't be a problem for you to have some clothes back."

He reached over to one side and pulled a cord on the wall, and Matner heard a bell jingle somewhere in the distance. Moments later, a man about Matner's age came running in. He, too, was dressed in uniform, although looked rumpled. He was a bit overweight and out of breath when he arrived, and Prenish sighed, as if this was a common occurance.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young man puffed. "I was --"

"It doesn't matter, Irving," Prenish said, waving a hand and shaking his head. "Just bring Matner here some of his clothes."

"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!"

Irving bobbed his head and backed his way out of the room. There was an awkward silence as Matner and Prenish waited for him to return. Meanwhile, Matner's mind raced, trying to piece together an appropriate story for what Sharnellynn had already told the man and to account for the posters as well. Despite the tension in the room, it seemed as if Irving came back far too quickly, not buying Matner enough time to think the matter through enough before he was handed a stack of his clothes to change into. Matner returned to the room he'd woken in to change, relieved that Irving had also thought to bring him a lantern as well.

His sword and armor were not, naturally, in the pile of clothes. Whether it was Irving or someone else that had, the clothes that had been picked out had been the one nice set he had brought. There was also his nicer pair of boots, which had been cleaned. He hoped that was a good sign.

He wished he knew what exactly Sharnellynn had said. He could only assume that the closer to truthful he could keep it the better. He decided to stick with what he would have told anyone on day one. The elves belonged to Lady Emarelle, who was a passenger with the caravan. Not that he actually knew much about Emarelle. He wondered how much Sharnellynn did, if anything.

The room itself was rather plain. Stone walls painted white, one window and one door. He had not thought to check from the outer room how many others there were adjacent. He suspected that this level was ringed with these little rooms. He tried to come up with a good idea to what the rooms might have originally been designed for. The door did not seem to even have a lock. So why the bars, he asked himself.

There was no blood showing on the bandages. He left them on just to be safe, putting his clothes over them. The clothes, he also noticed, had also been washed. They were still just a little bit damp. He wished there was a mirror in the room. As far as he could tell his hair should not look too bad. He stepped back out tentatively.

Prenish was signing one of the pieces of parchment on his desk while Irving waited, already holding a few other pieces of rolled, sealed parchment in one hand. Matner waited, while the magistrate rolled the parchment and then sealed it. He handed it over to Irving with a frown.

"Make sure that you get these to him right away. I don't need that old fool coming here and wasting my time again. He won't like some of my solutions, but you make it clear that my orders are final."

"Y-yes, sir," Irving replied nervously. The man looked unhappily at the parchment rolls in his hands before turning and heading quickly for the door.

Prenish then tidied the seal and wax, blowing out the candle and putting the seal itself back into a small pouch that he put into a drawer in his desk. Then he turned his attention back to Matner, gesturing idly at one of the two sturdy wooden chairs that sat in front of his desk.

"Good. You're dressed. Have a seat then, young man, and explain yourself."

Matner made no effort to hurry to the chair, but walked over to it cassually. He sat in it casually as well, slightly sideways with one arm resting over the back of the chair. The other hand he used for emphasis when he talked, and otherwise rested on his knee, a pose he'd seen his father sit in often enough when talking casually with business associates. He hoped it conveyed the same confidence, yet ease that his father tended to project at the time.

"Well, I was unaware that there were posters of the two. I suppose Lady Emarelle has assumed the worst."

"Lady Emarelle?" The magistrate asked.

"The slaves' owner," Matner repleid. "We picked her, and her slaves, up in Tikor."

"I joined up with a caravan in Calster," he explained. "It had been suggested to me that gaining some real world experience would be a benefit after my schooling at the Royal Academy. My grandfather was a knight, you see. So, I chose a caravan and signed on with them. We picked up a passenger in Tikor, one Lady Emarelle. She had two slaves. A few days out from the city, we were attacked. Since Emarelle was planning to use these slaves in trade for something, I never did find out what it was, she had me take them away from the battle, to keep them safe. The battle, was not going particularly well when we left. We couldn't be sure what happened. But we have been traveling the same route as the caravan was expected to take and have yet to connect with them again so that I can return the two slaves back to Lady Emarelle and get paid. Frankly, it has all been much more trouble than it is worth, but I did make the woman a promise. If she has begun offering a reward, she must assume I have failed. Is there word of her here in the city?"

"Interestingly enough," Prenish said, "this Emarelle is not listed as the owner according to the posters."

"Really? Who is?"

"One Lord Rilliam Tyvish," Prenish answered.

"Doesn't sound familiar," Matner said honestly after a moment's consideration. "But how are you supposed to know which is the proper owner? It would probably not be the first time such a thing has been done as a political maneuver." He had not heard of a case of slaves being used that way, although he did know of one case that made it to the King's court where two men both claimed to be the legal owner of a fairly large ruby.

"My more immediate concern," Prenish said, "is whether you were, in fact, trying to see the two back to whoever you believed to be their rightful owner or whether you were involved in the theft. So far you don't strike me as a thief, but we'll wait to see if your identity can be confirmed. If so, you'll be free to go. Until then, consider yourself a guest with...limited rights."

"What sorts of rights?" Matner asked, trying to demand without sounding too demanding. It was becoming clear Prenish was not going to be easily persuaded to just let him go. "Am I under arrest?"

"You will remain here on your own recognizance under the conditions that my men know your whereabouts at all times. You will take all meals here, and you will sleep in this room, with a guard here noting the time every time you enter and leave."

Matner considered his options, looking intently at Prenish as he did. He didn't think the man would take well to Matner arguing for a better situation, so he left it for the moment.

"I'd like to see the slaves," he said instead. "Emarelle will likely blame me if her slaves are too damaged and cannot be used for her affairs. Where are they being kept?"

Now it was the Magistrate's turn to consider Matner, and he raised his chin just a little under the man's gaze. He mentally tried to remind himself to pretend as if he was accustomed to dealing with people like Prenish all the time.

"I suppose you may see their condition, but you will not be allowed to speak to them," Prenish conceded, "until your identity has been confirmed."

"I have no need to speak with them," Matner replied. "I merely need to see that they are still intact."

"Irving can take you to see them when he returns. He can also tell you where you can find anything else you need, here in the Keep during your stay. In the meantime, I have other matters here to attend to, if you don't mind."

Prenish waved a hand at the piles of papers and Matner nodded, standing up.

"How long do you expect it to take to confirm my identity?" he asked.

"Within the week. We sent a message by pigeon the day you arrived. Perhaps sooner if you are known well enough there."

"Thank you," Matner nodded. "I'll await Irving in the other room."

He turned on his heel, military-style, and then walked casually back to the room. He left the door open and straightened the covers on the bed before sitting down on it. He leaned back against the wall, his arms behind his neck, and crossed one leg over the other, kicking his foot idly as he thought about the situation.

What will the return message say? he wondered to himself. Do I need to get out of here first or will Father confirm my identity? Will he demand my return home or... Somehow Matner couldn't imagine his Father doing anything other than demanding Matner's return. Then again, there has to be a point where Father realizes I can make my own decisions, he told himself. Then he worried whether or not his father might deny Matner's identity to punish him for leaving home. Fortunately, he heard voices marking Irving's return in the outer room, and he turned his attention back to the present when the young man came tenatively into Matner's room.

"I can take you to see the slaves now," Irving said, not looking quite as nervous as before. "But I'm supposed to remind you you won't be allowed to speak with them."

"Of course," Matner replied. "I understand. Please lead on." He tried to keep his tone authoritative but cordial. He did not want to alienate Irving. He could see that Irving was intimidated by the magistrate, so pushing authority on Irving could not work. Sympathy, now that was an angle that might work. He decided he needed to earn the man's respect. He would start that by treating him respectfully.

Irving led the way through the main room. Matner made a point of noticing there were four additional rooms, not counting his, plus the stairway off the vaguely hexagonal main room. Irving seemed more comfortable once they were in the stairwell, where the light of Irving's lantern lit the stone and brick as the stairs curved their way down through the thickest part of the tower wall. Here and there more little windows were open to the night air.

"So are there always people up this late at night," Matner asked, "or did he keep you up special on my account?"

"Hmph," Irving said, showing some displeasure. "There's always people awake in the castle. I'm not usually up this late. He kinda wanted to be awake when you woke. He's not sure if you're a thief, and he's not sure if he can trust you."

"And what do you think?" Matner asked.

"So far I don't know enough to judge," Irving replied. It was a good place to start from, Matner thought.

They traveled further down the stairs until there were no further windows as they were below ground level. Irving led him across a room to a hallway, lined in wood and stone. They did not need the lantern here, as there were torches lit periodically down the hallway, but Irving kept it anyway, holding it out before him as they advanced down the long corridor. Matner gauged it would be just large enough to walk two horses through, and seemed long enough that he was certain it led straight back to below the central keep building.

It opened out onto a large square room, from which several hallways branched away and a large staircase led upwards. Irving led Matner down one of the hallways, however, which contained a small stairway going down further. They descended, and the lower they got on the stairwell, the worse the air smelled. There was also an increase of heat that Matner normally wouldn't expected when going underground.

"It's warm down here," he commented aloud.

"We also house the forge down here," Irving answered. "Makes it easier to put chains on the prisoners too. And for branding certain criminals and other things."

"Branding?" Matner asked, alarmed.

"Oh, no, not them," Irving said hastily. "Usually the first sentence for a thief here is branding. A second offense means losing a hand. A third offense is public hanging. Of course that depends on the level of severity. Sometimes the branding gets skipped."

Matner felt a bit pale, realizing that he was being accused of thievery himself. He distracted himself with looking at the scene around him as they progressed to the keep's dungeon.

They passed an area that was clearly the forge. There was a larger opening, and a gate ran across it with a smaller door where a guard stood at either side. Inside, Matner could see muscled young men pumping bellows while other men beat on heated slabs of metal, bending them into shape and thrusting them back into the heat again. He heard a hissing sound of someone quenching a hot piece of metal in water. No one in the room spoke as they passed it. There was just the rythmic noise of metal on metal, clanging. It reminded Matner vaguely of the pattern he and Dir Ketten had fallen into when helping Karl chop out the stump.

The next area they passed was off the other side of the hallway. There was a similar gated wall and doorway, but no guards present and the room itself appeared empty. Between Irving's lantern and the dim light cast from a couple of torches in wall sconces, Matner could tell it was the type of area one would take prisoners to in order to interrogate them. Even Irving seemed to step more quickly past the room, filled with strange and dangerous looking devices and a large, thick wooden table at the center, with shackles attatched at each corner. There were also shackles dangling, empty, on the walls as well. The air around the doorway smelled ripe with blood, both old and new. There were other smells that he couldn't identify, although he was sure one was the lingering odor of burnt flesh.

At the end of the hallway, it opened out into a huge room. Along the walls, bars had been built in with doors, and the cells were separated, with thick mortared stone walls between each. In the center of the room were thick metal cages, as one might see for a circus, to contain beasts. He found himself realizing that the people held in the cells were all human. While those crouched down in the animal cages were all elves. Around him, people murmured, moaned, or cried, and the stench of urine and feces was so thick that he gagged on it for a moment.

"it gets easier once you've been down here a few times," Irving commented, though he was grimacing himself. He led Matner over and spoke to the two armor-clad guards that were playing a game with tiles at a small, rickety wooden table. Beside them, two hungry-looking dogs snarled at Matner while Irving explained their presence to the men. Then one of the men led them to a cage at the far end of the room, taking a heavy metal pole out of a sheathe on his belt and banging loudly against the bars of it.

"Ye got company. Liven up!" The guard spat at the cage and clanged the pole again before wandering back to his table. Irving took a step back, allowing Matner to step forward and look at Sharnellynn and Ahriender, clinging to one another, shackled in the cage. His stomach churned in horror as he tried desperately to keep all emotion off of his face so that Irving wouldn't see his reaction. What made it worse was the expression of relief that was clear on Sharnellynn's face when she turned her blue eyes up to look at him.

There were about a dozen of them in the cages and in that moment he made a decision. Somehow he was going to get them all out and free. What he was seeing was just wrong, and it was making him sick. 'It's okay, he mouthed to them, hoping Sharnellynn would catch it.

He turned away from the cages and back to Irving, letting a little of his distate show on his face. He was pretty sure Irving would interpret it a little differently anyway.

"At least they look undamaged," he said. "My understanding from Lady Emarelle was that their value was an important part of her trade arrangements. Enough has been lost on this trip already. I've seen enough."

Irving looked eager enough to leave, and turned immediately. Matner noticed that the guards relaxed right away, although the dogs were still restless. He judged the guards to be bored and lazy, and were probably lax on their actual duties when not watched. They had no reason to expect trouble. He tried to mark their faces in his mind before he followed Irving out.

This time he was much more aware of the route they took. He wanted to ask where the other passageways went, but he could think of no way to ask that would not be suspicious.

"On our way back," he suggested, "could you show me where to find a few things? For one, I'd like to know where breakfast will be served. My understanding is that I'm free to move about as long as I return for meals and let someone know where I am and where I'll be. If I stay cooped up in that room I think I'll bore myself to death."

"I don't see the harm in showing you around a bit," Irving said, bobbing his head in agreement. "Also, your other belongings, except for your weapons and armor of course, will be returned to you by morning. We've had them washed, and most of them aren't dry yet. But you also had a book, I noticed. I expect you'll be wanting that."

"It might help pass the time, yes," Matner agreed as they made their way back up the stairs.

When they reached the large room with the large staircase going upwards, Irving pointed and explained where they were.

"This room is often referred to as the hub. Each of these corridors leads to one of the towers. They can also be accessed from ground level or the wall, and there are stairways along the walls to get to the tops of those from inside the keep. But, from in here, it is difficult to know which direction you'd be facing so at some point the doorways were marked." He pointed to a carved wooden symbol above each door, with different colored paint on each. Matner recognized the symbols, usually used to mark directions on a sundial or compass, and nodded his understanding.

"Right, that's Northwest, and the tower you're staying in. Magistrate Prenish has charge over that tower. Each tower has a Magistrate. It used to be a Captain during wartime, and there still are Captains assigned to each tower, but during peacetime the Magistrates are in charge. The Captains find... other ways to occupy themselves." Irving shrugged, pointing at the stairway.

"That leads to the center Keep. The upper four levels are reserved for Lord Commander Enniston, and entry to them is obviously forbidden without appointment or escort. Otherwise, I doubt there's really much specifically restricted. I'll show you to the dining hall first. That's where meals are served. Most people eat there, exept for the Magistrates and his Lordship. The Captains do, but they have their own table."

Irving led the way up the massive staircase, which had been left behind when the dirt had been carved down below the keep, leaving the hard earth behind and then reinforcing it with stone and mortar. Matner noticed that there were two guards that milled about at the top of the staircase, and one other who sat in a chair and seemed to be making a point of noticing who went up and down it. The room it led to was a large, tall room with curved walls that went up for several stories before there was an actual ceiling. Beams crossed here and there and there were large open areas on the walls at each story, where people could look down. Birds were perched here and there on the massive wooden beams, which seemed to be offset from where the openings were. Along the wall were two thick staircases, both spiraling upwards from this level and stopping at each of the ones above it until they disappeared up further above the ceiling.

On this level, it appeared that there were three exits, other than the stairways. One looked as if it led out to a marketplace, which Irving confirmed when he began describing things. Half the market was inside the building itself, while it also spilled out into an outdoor marketplace as well. Another door led back towards the barracks and other military areas, Irving told him.

"I suppose you probably shouldn't go wandering around in there either. This way, however, is to the dining hall." Irving gestured towards the third doorway, which appeared to open into a massive open room filled with tables and benches. Matner followed Irving as he led the way into the room.

This room was also hugely tall, although perhaps one level shorter than the main hall behind them. Oversized lanterns hung on wrought iron chains from a ceiling obscured by the lanterns' oily smoke.

There were four pairs of large glass doors one right after the other leading outside. They were all open to the night air. He at first thought it a considerable security risk until he saw huge timber shutters hanging inside above the doors. They were held by chains and looked as though they could be dropped quickly to seal the entrance.

There were also other open doorways that he suspected led to kitchens. The room was easily large enough to seat a couple hundred all at once comfortably. He had seen a larger dining hall at the castle in New Callest, but this was still impressive.

"Your things are at a laundry in the South tower," Irving explained. "Each tower has a partial specialty. South is cleaning and the castle's staff. North is more military areas and blacksmithing. Northwest, your home until Prenish decides what to do with you, is home to our Healer, and is primarily used for treating the sick and wounded. East has the chapel."

"Isn't it a little strange to have a magistrate in charge of a healing facility?" Matner asked.

"Dunno," Irving answered. "I've been here all my life. I couldn't tell you how things are anywhere else. But he likes where he's at. He's got the power to decide who gets better and who doesn't, and sometimes who lives and who dies. He only had you healed in case that sword of yours wasn't stolen. We don't see many academy blades around here, so if you are who you seem to be then I think he doesn't want you offended. Don't get me wrong, but around here everything between the magistrates is status. Prenish'll either take credit for catching a thief or he'll brag about saving your life."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of being used as a status leverage," Matner frowned, shaking his head. "What about the West and SouthEast towers? I know I saw six towers from the outside."

"The SouthEast tower is the merchant's guild mostly. And the West tower is the school and library. It used to be military once, but the school needed more space, so they moved it there, along with the more commonly found books and scrolls. The rarest books and parchments are still kept in the main keep though, within the old library on one of his Lordship's levels. I haven't been into the old library myself. Just the outer office to request things for Lord Prenish."

"I see," Matner nodded. "And where would be the most likely place that a Lady might take up rooms while she is here? If Lady Emarelle arrives, I should like to have a message waiting for her."

"Of course. There are three possible inns that she might stay at," Irving replied. "They are all outside the keep walls, however, so you would have to send your messages by courier. I could have those sent after breakfast. It is still rather late at night..."

"After breakfast would be fine," Matner nodded, giving Irving a smile. "I wouldn't want to rouse anyone unecessarily. How long until breakfast, however? I am feeling extraordinarily hungry right about now."

"That would be from the healing, sir," Irving told him. "And the fact that you were asleep for quite some time. But the healing tends to make people extra hungry. We can go to the kitchens and see if there is anything available. We might be able to get some bread and broth to tide you over."

"That would be fine," Matner nodded again.

Irving led him to the two doors he had thought to be kitchens and as they walked through the heavy wooden doors, Matner found himself overwhelmed by aromas of cooking meats and breads, mingling with other savory smells that had his mouth watering. A heavyset man with a large knife in his hand stood at a counter, slicing off long stips of bacon from a massive piece of pork. He looked up and greeted Irving with a smile. A few other people moved here and there, tending pots or rolling dough, but this man seemed to be a dominant presence in the room. Out of the corner of one eye, Matner noticed the figure of an Elf, huddled under the stairs, attempting to sleep on the hard, stone floor.

"Prenish can't be hungry this late, who's that with you then?" the man asked.

"I'm Matner--"

"He's a guest of Magistrate Prenish," Irving interrupted. "He was healed of injuries earlier today. If you have something he could eat it would help him out."

"It's still hours before breakfast. I've got nothing ready for one or two. Take a seat, though" the man said, indicating a stool. "I'll set up some eggs in a minute."

"Do you have to get back?" Matner asked Irving.

"At this point I think I'll be up for a while. If I get you back now he'll either leave me in charge of staying up in that outer room until a guard change, or he'll send me off on another errand. If we're both lucky, someone else will have come along by the time we get you back and it'll be that guy's job to stay there."

"If you're lucky, he'll have decided that daytime business is for daytime, and he'll have gone to sleep," an older man said as he walked in. The man looked to be about Matner's grandfather's age. Most of his hair was steely gray, but his eyes were still vibrantly alive, even if just then they were a bit droopy from sleepiness. He wore a tunic that could have been a nobleman's if it did not look more like an officer's tunic worn slightly at the shoulders from armor. Matner could not tell for sure in the uneven lamp light.

"I don't normally get this much company at night," the cook said. "What brings you down here, Sir Arnish?"

"It seems someone thinks I'm just some old fool who doesn't need his sleep. So now I'm awake and I don't think I'll be able to just fall asleep. I thought I'd drop by for a snack...again."

"So," Arnish asked, indicating Matner, "who's this then, Irving?"

"He claims to be a Matner Tibrum of New Callest. Showed up with an academy blade."

Realizing that the man was military, and high ranking too, Matner found himself automatically saluting the man, from years of academy training. Arnish raised an eyebrow at Matner, looking curious.

"Academy, eh? Well, someone taught you to salute at least. At ease, young man. Take a seat."

Matner nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself as he sat down at one of the smaller tables in the room. Irving took the seat next to him, while Sir Arnish took the seat across, giving Matner a once-over in the process.

"Tibrum? That name sounds vaguely familiiar, although I can't place it just now. And anyone can pluck a name out of a hat and pretend to be them if they're far enough away from home. But not many can pretend to have attended the Academy in New Callest. Let's see if you're telling the truth or not, shall we?"

"If you can confirm who I am, I'd be glad to answer any questions you have, sir," Matner replied, wondering what the man had in mind.

"Well, then, someone seems sure of themself," Arnish chuckled.

"If I am who I say I am, then is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

"No, I don't suppose so. But then Master Pru might have answered differently when teaching the class on religion, don't you think?"

"Ahh, I see. Except that Master Gaern teaches religion. Master Pru has only ever taught some of the advanced weaponry and melee combat classes, and not many anymore at that. I'm fairly sure that Master Pru has never taught a religion class."

"But do you know why that is?" Arnish leaned in, with an amused-seeming smile on his face.

"I -- " Matner paused, realizing it was something he hadn't given any thought to prior to that moment. Arnish