Chapter 04 - Lessons

"...got lucky."

"It wouldn't have killed him. But that doesn't mean whoever drugged him wouldn't have."

"Probably thieves guild. They're more likely to use such tactics."

"Cowards. Only cowards drug their prey first."

"Yes, but if they don't kill anyone, then they can't be hung for their crimes. Rumor is that they only get arrested when they are caught and then they break each other out. Lord Norenth doesn't want to admit that they are getting out of the dungeons so easily. There's talk of an insider in the guard."

"Speakin' o' that', did he see ya?"

"I don't think so."

"I'll try ta find out fer ya. Don't know him well enough yet ta know iffen he'd turn ya in. Comes from money, that one. Might not agree with yer ideals."

"I didn't expect... He just seemed nice is all."

"Aye, he seems a good lad. But ye need ta be more careful, lass. Yer not gonna help anyone iffen ye get yerself locked away or worse."

"Shush, all of you. I think he's waking up!"

Despite being intrigued by the voices as they slowly began to come together and make sense in his mind, he still found himself fighting the pull towards them. But a cool cloth on his forehead and the throbbing ache in his shoulder reminded him of what had happened the night before, and tugged at him. Eventually, he grudgingly succumbed to it, and opened his eyes.

Shadows were deep in the tent. Old Fredrickson held a candle lantern that seemed too small and dim for the space. There was someone facing the dwarf that Matner could not see. Evara was there, and she moved closer to him.

"You're a lucky one, you are," she said. The person near Old Fredrickson opened the tent flap and stepped out of the tent.

"What happened?" Matner asked, trying to remember details through a foggy memory.

"Ye were shot wit' a crossbow, lad" Old Fredrickson said. "It had somethin' on it, but 'twasn't meant to kill ye. Yer lucky ye got away from 'em an' got back 'ere. They'd'a robbed ye to yer unders."

"They tricked me," he said, remembering now the whole encounter. He could not account for how he had ended up back at camp. He remembered nothing past deciding to run away.

"Thieves'll do that, lad."

"If that crossbow had hit you elsewhere it could have been a lot worse, Matner," Evara said. "It's only a little hole in your armor, but we'll have Tam mend it for you regardless."

"Thank you," he replied, not having thought about his armor yet. He realized he was no longer wearing it, or anything else for that matter, under the blankets. He was glad it was dark enough to hide his blushing.

"Did ye git a good look at 'em?" Fredrickson asked.

"Two of them, yes," Matner nodded. "They were at a tavern I stopped in." He realized he hadn't gotten the name of the tavern.

"Tell me what ye 'member lad," the dwarf said, nodding back. "Ye'll need ta report ta the guards an' tell yer story ta them too. Best ye git it straight in yer mind first."

"Two of them noticed me at the tavern," he recalled. "I thought they were watching me a bit too closely, so I didn't stay long. Then I thought I was being followed. I stuck to the better-lit streets though, and thought I'd lost them. Then I heard a woman. She sounded like she needed help, as if someone was harrassing her, so... it was a trick. She was one of them. There was another man in the alley with her. I didn't get as good a look at him. Then the two from the tavern came in behind me to close me into the alley. One of them shot me with the crossbow before I struck it with my sword and smashed it. The rest had knives. I think they were just waiting for me to fall from whatever they put on the crossbow bolt, trying to keep me from running. I got past them though, and tried to head here."

He realized he couldn't remember much more than that, his memory fuzzy as if he'd been drunk. There were snatches of streets, signs, and faces, but some of them were memories from Calster as opposed to actual memories from the night before. He shook his head, frustrated at not being able to remember clearly.

"I don't remember clearly after that. It's all muddled. How did I get here?" he asked.

Evara started to say something and Old Fredrickson held up his hand. "Evara saw ye walkin' toward camp. Staggerin', more like. She thought ye were drunk a'first."

"So I made it all the way back here?" he asked.

"You're a strong boy," Evara said. "Maybe you're a bit more sturdy than their normal prey, and the dose on the bolt took longer than they expected. Once we saw that bolt in your shoulder Old Fredrickson made sure we got you in here straight away."

"Who was that other person here when I woke up?"

"Other person?" Evara asked. "What other person?"

"There was someone else here when I woke up," he said to Old Fredrickson. "You were talking to--I think it was a woman."

"Your memories and your mind were both affected by the poison. Maybe you were dreaming something," Evara suggested. "It's late, and you should get some rest."

"Needless ta say, ye'll not have a watch shift tonight. I'll let Frank know how yer farin'."

"I... thank you," he said, shaking his head to try and clear it better.

"Aye, lad. Ye just rest up. Ye'll be right as rain in no time." Old Fredrickson gave him a smile and a wave as he left the tent.

"Rest now. There'll be time later." Evara patted him gently on the arm before following the caravan leader out of the tent. Matner found himself laying there, alone and puzzled.

I know I heard someone else. Saw another figure, he thought to himself. He really wasn't very tired, so he tried to straighten out the images in his mind. Am I just imagining it? Or are they hiding something?

He didn't want to think badly of the people he'd been traveling with so far. Old Fredrickson had seemed nothing but forthright thus far, although the man obviously kept a few stories to himself, and let others speculate, as with his peg leg.

Larissa? he suddenly connected the voice he'd heard with the woman he'd met the day before. Was she the one that was here, or am I just mixing things up in my mind? What was in that poison anyway? He realized he couldn't be sure. His memories from the night before were hazy towards the end, and confused. But his mind felt clear enough now, and what he was remembering was only from a few moments ago. There had been another person in the tent with them. He felt sure about that. He began to try and think of a way to prove it, and find out what was going on.

I had a bad feeling at Tira's house, he recalled. It felt like they were hiding something too. He wondered if going back there unannounced would reveal anything. He spent a few minutes pondering what he might say if he did.

He was wondering how long it would take before he could be up and about, when there was a knock on the tent pole, and someone peeked into the flap.

"Hi! Can I come in?" to his surprise, Larissa's voice came into the tent. It was all he could do to keep a blank look on his face and not seem suspicious of her.

"Um... I guess," he replied, making sure the blankets were firmly around him.

"I stopped by to apologize for having to leave so suddenly last night," she said, ducking into the tent. "And Old Fredrickson told me what happened. How awful! How do you feel?"

His shoulder ached and felt bruised and swollen. He looked down and there was a large lump under the bandages. He supposed Evara had put something in there to help it heal. He pulled the blanket up around him more.

"Oh don't worry, I've seen men without their shirts before. I'm not that delicate and sensitive like that," Larissa said, laughing.

"Still," he said, "there's something to be said for decency and manners."

"All and all I guess I don't feel so bad. Sore and hurting, and kinda tired, I guess."

"Some of that's probably to be expected, from the sound of things. That drug or poison or whatever might still take some time to really wear off..."

"I guess it could be worse. I just feel so... stupid?"

"Don't worry about it," she said. "It's sure not the first time somebody new to town has been robbed--or had someone try, anyway. Maybe having failed on you they'll hold off for a while. Anyway, Old Fredrickson says you'll be in town for a few days yet. You go ahead and rest up, and I'll swing by after dinner and come see how you're doing."

"Do you always take this much interest in people you happen to meet on the street?" he asked.

"Tira would say so, yes," she said before ducking out of the tent.

He did believe now that she had been involved in getting him to camp for help. He thought he remembered something about wondering if she had been seen, and Old Fredrickson not wanting her to get in trouble. He tried to guess what the explanation to it all might be, but came up with nothing.

He was frustrated from being in the tent, and didn't think he felt bad enough to stay there. But when he tried to sit up all the way, he found that he felt a little dizzy, and laid back down again. It seemed forever before Evara came back into the tent, and Matner was relieved to see that she brought his bag with her when she did, along with another, smaller bag.

"I thought you might want some of your clothes," Evara smiled. "You seemed a bit uncomfortable before. Although it would be good if you left the shirt off for now. I should change the dressing on that shoulder a couple more times today. Tomorrow it won't need as much attention."

"Thanks," he said, taking the bag from her with his left hand and setting it next to him in reach.

She knelt down next to him and gently unwrapped the bandaging around his shoulder, exposing the wound. He watched, curiously, and saw a mixture of something that looked leafy and muddy packed in around the wound. She wiped it away with a cloth from the other bag she'd brought, and then pulled out a jar of something similar, along with some fresh bandaging. She used some water from a flask to clean the area and inspected it before packing more of the mixture on and fresh bandages. He could see the hole was small, although it looked like it had a smaller knife cut through it as well. The whole area around it was a dark red color and somewhat puffy. It hurt most when she pressed against it, but the mixture she applied had a cooling effect, and he noticed the throbbing and tingling feeling subdue shortly afterwards.

"It looks cut," he commented as she was inspecting.

"I had to cut in a little to retrieve the bolt. I couldn't just leave it in there," she answered.

"I see," he replied.

He didn't ask more questions, feeling both relieved to have his wound taken care of, but awkward about his suspicions that they were keeping something from him. He suddenly realized he wasn't sure who he could trust amongst the caravan, and wasn't sure what to do about it. Only a day before, he had thought of them as friends and comrades.

She finished up and left, suggesting he get some rest. He did nap fitfully for a while.

At some point Frank came in with a man dressed in a distinctly military looking jacket. There was a sigil embroidered on it, and he guessed it to be the mark of the town ruler. He realized he did not know who was in charge of this city. He supposed it to be one of the dukes or earls.

"Matner," Frank said, "this is Magistrate Torvan. You'll need to tell him everything you can about what happened."

Frank and the magistrate both sat down alongside Matner. Matner tried to sit up more, and the magistrate held up a hand.

"No, you can stay laying down if you'd prefer. I don't stand on protocol much unless provoked." The man had a pleasant voice, but Matner was sure it could be harsh and stern if it needed to be.

He did not want to bring Larissa into it. It seemed like she would get into trouble if she were involved, not that he understood what kind or why. He started with the inn, having to apologize for not noticing a name to it. He remembered a sign with three mugs on it, set in a triangle. Apparently that told the magistrate enough.

He told the whole story, as much of it as he could remember. The magistrate asked for descriptions of all four people, and he did the best he could to describe them. The magistrate listened quietly, and when Matner was finished the magistrate told the whole story back detail for detail.

"I'm impressed," Matner admitted.

"It's something I've worked at. Details are important to me. One of those details might be what it takes to catch them and help bring about justice."

"How long will you be in town?" the Magistrate asked, turning to Frank.

"Three, maybe four more days," Frank answered.

"Right," Torvan nodded, turning back to Matner. "If we catch them, I'll let you know. We'll want you to identify them. Or, if you think of anything else, you can stop by and let myself or my assistant know." He gave Matner an address, and briefly described the route to it from the marketplace.

"Stay safe and out of trouble, Matner. Nice to meet you." The Magistrate gave him a polite smile and nodded to Frank before leaving the tent. Frank, in turn, gave Matner a nod before following Torvan out.

Matner heard them outside, talking with Old Fredrickson before leaving, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Eventually, it sounded as if the Magistrate left, and Old Fredrickson and Frank continued talking, but moved further away from the tent, until Matner couldn't hear them at all. Matner laid there a while, thinking, before deciding he'd had enough of laying around in the tent. He sat up slowly, and found he was only a little light-headed. He rummaged around in his bag and picked out a comfortable pair of pants and a loose shirt that wouldn't pull on the dressing. It hurt to use the arm, so he managed as much as he could with his left one instead, until he was dressed. He wondered where his boots had gone as he pulled on the spare pair of shoes he'd brought. He realized his sword was missing too. He decided to ask about them as he stood up and made his way out into the sunlight outside the tent.

The wagons were parked side-by-side, closely spaced. About half the normal number of tents were set up, also in a line. The line of tents and the line of wagons made two sides of a square. There were three big tents set up near the corner that had their sides pulled up. Those were being used for display areas. It took him a moment to recall that it had been the same arrangement when he had first met the dwarf. It had not been something he had really noticed at the time.

There were about a dozen people in the space. It was easy to pick out Old Fredrickson at a glance. He saw Frank and a few of the others. About half the people looked to be customers. He smelled coffee.

Frank saw him and came over. "Evara would not be pleased to see you up," he warned.

"It's not a leg," Matner replied. "I'm not exactly straining it. But I can't just lay about in the tent all day."

"Heh," Frank said, shaking his head slowly. "Yet I'd wager if you were at an inn you'd have no qualms sitting about all day, between mattress and soaking tub..."

"I didn't leave home to sit in a tent, Frank."

"No, I suppose not. Just be easy. Evara's a nice lady, but if you tear those stitches open you'll see a surprising new side of her." Frank turned, shaking his head again as he started to walk back towards the corner display tents. "Oh," he added, looking over his shoulder, "don't leave the camp until you're healed right up."

"Aye, woudn't want ye keelin' over somewhere's we wouldn't find ye," Old Fredrickson said, coming over. "Now ye can sit over by the fire outa the way, or ye can learn a thing or two about sellin'. Which would ye prefer."

"I think I might just sit by the fire for the moment," Matner replied, not sure whether they were genuinely worried he'd pull his stitches or wanting to keep him where they could see him. "I was wondering though, what happened to my boots and sword?"

"Ah. Tam's got 'em, along with yer armor," the dwarf pointed over to where the smith sat, working on something with a small pair of pliers.

"Thanks," Matner nodded, heading off towards the man. He was careful not to look back to see if the dwarf was watching him or not as he approached Tam. He saw that the piece Tam was working on, was actually the part of Matner's armor that had been damaged. The man didn't look up while he worked.

"I see you're up and about already," Tam commented when Matner got close enough. "I know you can't be healed enough for Evara's liking yet. So you must be angsting about your armor. It ain't done yet. Still got three more links to replace."

"Do you mind if I sit and watch?" Matner asked, curious about the repair process.

"Not so long as you don't get in the way."

"Thanks," Matner said, scooting an empty barrel closer and taking a seat on it.

"You're probably wondering about your sword too. And your boots." Tam kicked a foot towards the wagon next to him. "They're in that one. Didn't want anyone thinking they were for sale. Decent blade you've got there. Nothing fancy, but sturdy enough steel. Where'd you get it?"

He stopped and thought about his answer for a moment. The swords, the armor, the boots, even the uniforms had all been issued at the academy. But that was not the answer he wanted to give. Technically his father had paid for it all.

"My father bought them for me," he explained. "He knows several of the merchants who supply the Royal Guard..."

"So, who's your Pa, then, anyone I've heard of? Sounds like he knows good people," the man said, holding up a piece of the armor and inspecting it critically.

"No, probably not," Matner said. "I mean, I'm sure you've met lots of people from city to city, but he doesn't get to markets much."

"Ah. Busy man, eh? That's not uncommon." Tam ran long fingers through what he had of his hair before standing up. "Well, this is as done as it's gonna get," he said. "I'll put it aside with the rest of your stuff for tomorrow. I'm guessing Evara isn't going to want to see you strolling around camp with your sword and armor today."

"No, not from the sound of things," Matner agreed. "So," he added, hoping to strike up a conversation not about him, "have you had to do a lot of armor repair with this bunch?"

"Well, it seems the merchant life isn't an easy one," Tam said with a grin. There was a look in his eye as if recalling a fond memory. "Or maybe Old Fredrickson just attracts trouble. Are you trouble, Matner?"

"Me?" he asked, suprised at the question. "No, I don't think so."

"Good," Tam nodded. "Now then, I've got some supplies I've got to go haggle over, so I'll see you later then, lad." Then he was gone, walking quickly away. Matner watched as Tam stopped briefly to have a word with Old Fredrickson before heading out of the camp.

Matner spent the next hour or so sitting by the small campfire, watching the people come and go. Customers were at the camp almost continuously, and Old Fredrickson seemed to know many of them by name. He sold at least something small to almost all of the ones he knew, although it seemed as if a few just came by to say hello. After a while, Matner figured out that Evara, Tam, and Old Fredrickson each seemed to take care of selling specific goods amongst the wares. Shannah, Ennick and Fat Ren helped out, taking care of an area if one of the others needed to leave for a bit, or during high-traffic times.

It was during one of those high-traffic times that Matner spotted a young boy, at the edge of one of the wagons, pocketing a small item he'd snatched off the display. He looked around, checking to see if he'd been noticed, and met Matner's eyes. The boy's face was suddenly covered with guilt and Matner was on his feet and heading towards him when he turned to flee.

The boy got all of about twenty feet before turning to look back over his shoulder towards Matner. Matner saw Frank step out in front of the boy, and the boy barrelled right into Frank. Frank held his place and the boy bounced off of him, falling backwards flat on his back.

Matner got there as quickly as he could. Apparently the boy had winded himself when he fell, and the boy was just starting to try to get to his feet when he got there. Frank put a booted foot on the boy's chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

"You've got good eyes, kid," Frank said to Matner.

"You can't do this to me," the kid protested. "I'm--"

Frank pushed down with his foot, forcing enough air out of the boy to prevent him from speaking for a moment.

"You're not stealing from us," Frank explained calmly. "You're going to hand it back, and you're going to leave, and you're not going to come back."

The boy glared up indignantly. Matner watched to see what Frank would do. He was relieved that Frank had been on hand to intervene. He was not sure what he would have done if it had all been up to him.

Frank visibly leaned forward, putting more weight on the boy's chest. The boy's face started turning red.

"Any time you want to breathe just hand it over," Frank said patiently, as if he had all day.

It seemed to take a long while before the boy made any move at all. Matner was starting to worry as his face grew redder and redder until suddenly he jammed his hand into his pocket and yanked something out. Frank immediately pulled his foot off and leaned over to scoop up the item in one smooth, practiced motion. The boy scrambled to his feet, coughing and gasping for air. Frank grabbed him by the shirt collar with his free hand and looked him in the face.

"Next time I won't let you go free afterwards," Frank told him. "Next time you'll have to deal with the guards. I'd think long and hard about that before you try stealing anything again. Now git."

He let go of the boy's shirt and he scrambled away as fast as his feet would carry him, leaving small clouds of dust where his feet slid on the hard-packed dirt of the market grounds. A few people had stopped to watch the encounter, but it only took a moment before they went back to their business. Frank moved to put the item back on the wagon, shaking his head. Matner saw that it was a small, embroidered ladies' purse that he had seen Evara working on only a few nights before.

"He's not very good," Frank commented. "I doubt he'll get far if he doesn't get help one way or another from someone. His clothes suggest he's living on the streets."

"What kind of help is there for him?" Matner realized he didn't really know much about what it meant to be living on the streets. His mother was part of a ladies' group in Calster that held a charity each winter to give clothing and blankets to those who had nowhere to live. Other than that, he'd really never thought much about it. A part of him suddenly felt guilty for the kind of life he'd grown up in.

"There's a few who'll take in kids and feed them, maybe give 'em a couple of coin now and again so long as they do some chores around the place. Usually innkeepers or grocers and the like. Other than that, there's always the churches. They usually have orphanages. The older they get, the less likely they are to get adopted. The church will usually try to raise them to follow a religious path if they can't adopt them out."

"Now," Frank went on, "you're going to find a couple kinds of thieves we have to watch for. The first kind is like that one. They're looking for quick opportunities when they think nobody's watching. Now, we don't want to hurt anyone, but if you scare them they generally don't come back. That kid knows we'll watch him like a hawk if he comes near again. We'll probably not see another sign of him."

"The other kind are the organized ones, and you've run into their lot before. Generally they're in pairs or more. Most commonly it's a pair. One will get into a conversation--try and draw the merchant to look at something or somewhere specific. The other one takes what he can and leaves."

"There was one place we were at where there was a group of five. Two of them started fighting amongst themselves, arguing over who was going to be able to have a particular item. Some of us had to get involved with breaking them up. Then the other three grabbed what they could. One did end up getting away that time."

"How many times has it been a problem?" Matner asked.

"Oh, not that often, really. But it could happen anywhere, so it always pays to be ready. Oh, that reminds me. Another thing I forgot to mention: stopping a thief earns you bonus pay for the day. How much is up to Old Fredrickson, of course, but I'll let him know you were the one that saw the kid."

"Thanks," Matner said. "Although I don't know that I really did much."

"You were ready to. That's good enough for this time. Sometimes it's where your heart is that counts the most, Matner." Frank gave Matner a friendly pat on his unwounded shoulder as he headed away, off towards Old Fredrickson.

For a moment, Matner had been distracted enough that he'd forgotten all about being suspicious of the others. But something in the way Frank had said that last bit had stirred his worries again. He thought about it as he made his way back to his seat by the fire. Something told him that whatever it was they were keeping from him wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But it was something they could get into trouble for, nonetheless. What he couldn't figure out was how Larissa tied into it all.

He spent the rest of the afternoon going between watching the members of the caravan and checking out the wares that they were offering. There were a variety of items in metal, leather, and wood that Tam had made. Some of it was armor, but there were also dishes and cups, as well as some wooden carvings and a few other odds and ends. Evara also had variety to offer, from purses, scarves and shawls to elaborate gowns. Most of her work seemed to be women's attire, with only a few items that were tailored for men. Old Fredrickson had other goods that he'd traded for or bought and brought to the area. There was coffee, tea, spices, tobacco, incense, and perfumes, all from far away places. There were other items as well, showing off artistry of foreign cultures.

He noticed that a lot of the goods had come from Dwarven lands, and Fredrickson told Matner that he had some friends and family that were sea merchants who would bring goods and send them along the river to people who would hold them until the caravan arrived there. The wagons were bursting with merchandise, and the dwarf mentioned that he had picked up quite a large shipment when he had been in Calster.

It seemed to him that a fair number of items sold. He admitted he did not have much basis to judge it by, but he did watch quite a few purchases, and by the end of they day there were empty spots here and there on tables.

Ennick had a pig turning on a spit for most of the day, and had vegetables and corn roasting towards the end. Matner was not sure what spices were being used, but it smelled delicious. A few people jokingly asked if the cooked meat was going to be for sale.

"Ah, nay," Old Fredrickson would say each time, "but follow me o'er here an' I can tell ye about the spices he's usin'." As far as Matner could tell, none of those people left without buying something.

By the time tent flaps were rolled down, covering up wares for the day, he was more than ready for dinner. He put himself towards the end of the line for food. One of the twins told him he should move forwards more.

"Eh," Matner said, "what have I been doing all day? You go first." He hoped it sounded gracious and generous, and he did feel like all he had done was sit around trying to stay out of the way.

"It's good that you got the chance to see a normal day while you could pay attention," Shannah said to him while Fat Ren was serving up a big portion to Dir Ketten. "There are a lot of things that happen around here. The more you can watch and learn, the more you become part of the family. It's a strange family, but a good one."

He watched them during dinner, noticing that all except Dir Ketten had a part in in the conversation. Even Dir Ketten nodded as he listened, but Matner saw that he watched them too, though it seemed more out of curiosity than any suspicion.

Each had something to tell at dinner, whether it was seeing someone familiar or a bit of interesting gossip. Everyone was eager to hear Matner tell them what had happened the night before, and he found himself repeating what he'd told the Magistrate. He noticed Larissa arrive in the camp shortly after he began to tell it, and she hung back, obviously listening, until he'd finished. Then she came forward, into the firelight, smiling. She took a seat next to him as people were commenting on his tale, and several of them greeted her by name. What surprised him, however, was the sight of a large bruise on her lower jaw.

"Hi," she said as she sat down, cross-legged on the ground next to him.

"What happened?" he asked, pointing to her face.

"Oh that," she touched her hand to it and winced a little. "It's nothing. I had an unfortunate encounter with a washtub and a soapy floor today. Tira's always telling me to be more careful. One day I ought to start listening." She gave him a sheepish grin. "How's your shoulder?"

"Not too bad," he replied. "Evara puts something on it when she changes the dressing. It numbs it pretty well."

"Well, try to stay out of trouble while it heals," she said. "Evara won't be pleased if you go tearing those stitches before they're healed."

"Yes, I know, I think now everyone's told me," he joked.

"Oh," Frank said, leaning towards him conspiratorially. "I might have forgot to mention--try not to undo Evara's work. She doesn't appreciate that." Frank grinned wide and turned back towards the fire, chuckling.

"I can only assume there's a story behind all that," Matner said. Larissa smiled but said nothing.

Larissa went and talked to Old Fredrickson before leaving. She just casually walked off without any goodbyes. He guessed that she was a frequent visitor whenever the caravan was in town.

After dinner was mostly just relaxing around the fire. There was some joking, and there were a few customers that dropped in. Old Fredrickson took care of most of those personally. Matner overheard him telling one young boy that they weren't looking to hire more help, and he smiled, wondering what the group had thought when he had first spoken with the dwarf. He thought that one day he would have to ask them, and he frowned to himself, wishing he knew whatever secret the group was keeping from him.

This time he was able to find out how the group handled some of the logistics while they were in town. While the guards took the opportunity to sleep full nights and explore the town, the merchants and workers took turns keeping watch over the camp at night. Usually one of the guards would stay with the camp, in case there was trouble, but didn't have to stay awake on watch specifically. Matner also learned, from Frank, that Old Fredrickson had a bit of fighting skill too, although it wasn't mentioned when he had learned.

Frank decided to stay in camp this night, but other than Matner all the rest of the men had gone to stay at an inn together. It wasn't long before they had left camp, merrily joking to one another as the headed off towards their inn. Matner suspected that many of them would be drinking and enjoying themselves before heading to their rooms and he suddenly felt a pang of jealousy. Evara had made it clear that she wanted to keep an eye on him until the next morning, so he felt obligated to stay in camp.

Frank came and sat down next to him with two mugs, one of which he offered to Matner. He took it gratefully and drank some of the frothy ale in it.

"Fredrickson picked up a small barrel of ale at one of the local taverns today. He just cracked it open. I thought you might enjoy a bit,"

"Thanks," Matner nodded.

"So, are you staying here tonight just to watch over the new kid?" he asked Frank.

"Nah," Frank said. I do a few inn nights, but..." Frank trailed off for a moment into his ale. He actually looked a little sad, and Matner wondered about that.

"Most of the rest of the boys go off more or less together," Frank explained. "More often than not I just stay in camp. I'm used to the camp life. It's comfortable. There's just something to inns and taverns I've never really enjoyed."

"Really?" Matner asked. Frank picked up a stick and poked at the fire, kicking up some sparks. The rest of the caravan was mostly tidying things up, getting ready for tomorrow. For the moment it was just the two of them.

"It's always seemed to me that inns were places to go to celebrate or mourn. 'Course, we used to use inns as a place to recruit more men. Often enough we'd be sulking about, hoping not to be recognized. None of that's an issue any more, really, it's just not where I yearn to be."

"Now camp life, on the other hand, was usually fun," he continued. "Time at camp had always been about brothers in arms, sitting around laughing and sharing stories and lies. I don't know. It's like there's a feeling of freedom, independence, maybe, living in camp. I've got a family again. The kids run off and play, and I stay here with this lot."

"You, on the other hand," Frank said, turning to look at Matner. "You ought to go with them tomorrow night. You'll get to feel a lot more a part of things after you've shared some downtime with the others."

"Trying to get rid of me already?" he joked.

"Not at all. But sometimes it feels like you are keeping yourself apart from the others. You don't talk about yourself, let them get to know you. Makes them wary of you. Take Dir Ketten, for example. He's been with us for years now, and never faltered in defending the caravan. But because he doesn't say anything there's still a couple of the men who feel he's going to betray us somehow. Kill us all in our sleep or something. I've always had a strong feeling in my gut that I could trust him, and my instincts rarely let me down. But others don't have that. They need to get to know someone before they'll let their guard down."

"I see," Matner said after a moment of thought. "So what's your gut tell you about me then?"

"Honestly?" Frank asked, snapping the twig he'd been poking the fire with and tossing it into the flames. He took a swig of his ale and then picked up another twig to prod at the fire some more.

"Yes, honestly." He followed that with a swig of his own ale and a nod.

"I think you've got our backs in a fight. I think you've been trained well enough, although geared towards a military career from the looks of it. You need a little real life experience to round you out is all. I also think you're running from something, maybe your family, or maybe it's really yourself. You're looking for your place in this world too. That's nothing unusual, as a lot of young men are. Sammeth is as well. You're embarrassed by something in your past though, or maybe it's guilt - I'm not sure, and it's holding you back. And you aren't sure you can trust us yet, though I think you want to. If nothing else, I think your heart is in the right place."

One of the large logs cracked loudly in the moment of silence that followed, startling Matner a bit as he mulled over what Frank had said. A part of him wanted to just ask Frank outright if there was something they were keeping from him. A part of him wasn't sure if he should. He turned it over in his mind as he sipped his ale and looked at the fire.

"My family has money," he said eventually, succumbing to the awkward silence. They put me into the Royal Academy. Father did have a military career in mind for me."

Frank looked at him as if judging him, but said nothing. Matner looked down at the orange glow of the coals in the fire, not wanting to feel watched as he spoke.

"But everything I've had had been given to me," he continued, since Frank was not saying anything. "I don't want everything given to me. I want to earn my things, earn my place, earn my own opportunities, if that makes any sense."

For a moment there was only the silence of the evening, punctuated more by a lone cricket than by the occasional pops and cracks from the fire. "No, it makes plenty sense," Frank said, looking at the fire himself now.

"Now, if I was hiding that," Matner said, looking up at Frank finally, "then I think I'm not the only one that's been keeping things quiet. There's something going on, isn't there? And somehow Larissa's involved, I think."

"Yes, she's involved. But I couldn't tell you if it's something you want to know about or not. It wouldn't have to affect you if you don't know. Not that it's a dangerous kind of thing. Well, maybe it could be, but not more than plenty of other things."

"Is it something bad," Matner asked, "or just something illegal?"

"Depends on where you draw that line, doesn't it?" Frank replied.

Matner sighed.

"Without knowing what it is, I don't know how to determine where that line is for you," he admitted. "But I feel like I'm being unintentionally pulled into it, so I kind of want to know what's going on." He frowned at the fire. "I somehow doubt that it's bad per se..." he trailed off, knowing there was no way he could really reassure Frank without already knowing what the secret was.

"Let's try a theoretical example first then," Frank said after a couple more moments of cricket-song had passed. "Let's just say you found out about someone, a mother and child. Now the child was about to be taken from the mother and sent far away. And the mother was going to be... locked away in a prison, where she'd likely be abused regularly. And all she had done wrong was have a baby to the wrong father. But where she lives, this is a crime that could be punished as severely as by putting her and the baby to death. In fact, by imprisoning her and sending the baby away, the local authorities were considered lenient. Would you turn a blind eye and let the law prevail? Or would you try to help her?"

Matner thought on it for a moment, confused a bit.

"But they wouldn't do that," he protested, turning to look at Frank.

"Suppose, for a moment, that they would though," he replied calmly. "Would you do anything to help them? The law has decided. To help them would be a crime."

"To not help them would be the worse crime," he said decisively. "But that example isn't exactly fair -"

"Suppose, instead, that the mother was elven," Frank interrupted.

"Ohhhh," Matner suddenly understood. "I see."

"So what we've been concealing," Frank explained, "is not an evil thing. Unlawful, perhaps, but not bad. If you don't know about it you can't get in trouble because of it."

"Are you expecting trouble?" Matner asked.

"No. But without knowing where you would stand, we couldn't know how you might react. We weren't ready to risk that until we got to know you better. That's all."

"That makes sense," Matner conceded. "And I wasn't exactly forthcoming, was I?"

"No."

For a moment the two men just watched the small flames dancing about the glowing coals. Some of the rest of the caravan were turning in for the night. Old Fredrickson was hobbling about, grumbling about something or other.

"Yes, I think tomorrow with the others would be fun," he said eventually. "I would like to be more part of the family."

"Alright, then," Frank said with a nod. He stood up and stretched a little. "I'm turning in. Good night, Matner."

He sat for a while, looking at the glowing embers in the center of the fire, thinking about the example Frank had given. He wondered how close to the truth it had actually been, and found himself thinking about the elven slaves that had lived in his father's household. He didn't really know much about them, or Elves in general for that matter. There had been some brief discussion of it in one of his history classes, that had told of how they had nearly been eliminated entirely during the Flesh War. They had allowed themselves to enter into an agreement that bound them into slavery with the Humans if they were saved from the Giants who had been making their way across the Elven lands, killing anyone they encountered. The Humans had initially not wanted to get involved, so the Elves had made a final plea for help that had finally been accepted. How the King had managed to win against the Giants was both a great mystery and one of the fastest recorded victories in historical record. Afterwards, the Elves handed their lands over, as promised, and allowed themselves to be divided up into groups and sent to cities across the Human nation.

He had to admit, however, that Frank's example still didn't make much sense. While the Elves were slaves, it was generally considered poor taste amongst those who had them to treat them poorly. His father had said it was bad business to beat someone whom you wanted to do work for you - one of the few philosophies his father held that Matner had put stock in. He'd heard similar sayings from many of the teachers at the academy too, relating to soldiers and those who led them. However, like someone who deserted his post in the army, there were harsh punishments to be dealt to slaves who left their assigned families.

It was also understood that Elves and Humans couldn't produce children together, which made Frank's examply pretty implausible. He wondered what the real story was. Somehow, however, he did feel better about whatever they were keeping from him. He hoped they wouldn't be caught. He also hoped that they'd eventually tell him the truth.

He finished the ale and dropped the mug off by the washtub to be washed out with the morning dishes, before heading into the tent. It seemed strange to have the tent to himself as he pulled off his boots and got himself ready to sleep. He wondered what it was going to be like tomorrow night, going off with the rest of the guards. He found himself looking forward to it, and smiled, as he laid back on the bedding and closed his eyes.

He woke to a knocking sound.

"Matner, it's Evara. May I come in?"

"Yeah," he said, a little groggily.

"People were beginning to wonder if you were coming out for breakfast or not," she said as she pushed her way through the tent flaps. She was carrying her bundle of bandages and supplies. He could hear the low murmer of voices carrying with a general clattering of dishes and pots and pans.

"No, breakfast would be good," he said.

He yawned a few times while she changed the dressing on his shoulder. She nodded approvingly at it, although in the somewhat dim environment of the tent he could not see the wound as well as he was curious to. What he could see of it looked to be healing very well.

"It didn't get infected," she said, touching it lightly with her fingertips. "That's probably the most important part. Generally I get them clean enough, so infections around here aren't terribly common. But crossbow and arrow wounds are the harder ones to treat, so they're the ones more likely to fester. But we'd know by now if there was a problem."

"A couple more days and you'll be ready to get back into things. I would recommend some light excercise. You don't want the arm getting weak from neglect, so don't spoil it. But no sparring with the other boys yet, and let the others do any fighting still."

"But light practice is fine?" he asked.

"As long as it's light. If you don't break a sweat you're probably alright. Now, put your shirt on and come get some breakfast."

She was gone again a moment later and he found himself hurrying to get dressed and out of the tent, suddenly eager to start the day. With the guards staying at the inn there weren't as many for breakfast as he was accustomed to. He was handed a plate almost as soon as he stood up outside the tent, and his stomach rumbled at the smell of cooked eggs, bacon, and potatoes, mixed in with some onions and cheese. There were other ingredients too, and spices, all cooked together in a mess of food, some of which he couldn't identify. The concoction itself was tasty, however, and the smell of it seemed to draw people in as they passed. It didn't take long before the canvases were thrown back on some of the wagons and Old Fredrickson started selling things before he'd even finished eating his plateful.

Matner stayed long enough to help with the breakfast dishes before checking with Frank to see if it was alright to leave the camp. Frank told him he was supposed to check in at some point during the day and let them know if he'd be in camp for dinner or not. Otherwise, Matner was free to do what he wished, so long as he stayed out of trouble. With a nod he was off, this time heading towards the river, and the docks. He was curious to see the difference it made to have the whole city on one side of the river instead of straddling both sides as Calster did. He wandered up and down, watching the men poling the long boats up and down the docks, sometimes stopping to unload or pick up wooden crates. There were also smaller fishing boats bobbing in the water further downriver, where the river widened again. The long, wooden bridge seemed old and worn compared to the massive bridge he was accustomed to in Calster. This one almost looked to be swaying slightly in the wind, or perhaps with the water that swirled around the thick wooden legs.

He wondered what it would be like to be aboard ship, traveling the rivers from city to city and plying the seas. He found himself walking a little closer. Burly and sometims chubby men tossed sacks from boat to dock, or rolled barrels up and down ramps. Some of the boats had ropes hanging from sail rigging, and those were used with pulleys to haul and swing things around. He supposed it would be quite a bit different from the life Leyeb had always wistfully described.

Some of the men whistled while they worked. Some worked barefoot, some worked in shoes or boots. Most of them wore clothes that had been patched at least once. What he saw looked as though they worked hard, but they did not seem to mind.

Not too different, he thought from caravan life. It was still about getting goods from one place to another, buying in one place and selling in another. Eventually he shrugged and walked on, not looking to change out what he had for a different kind of unknown just then.

Moving away from the river he passed through warehouse and other market districts. There was a sizeable fish market, and hawkers were all calling out the recent catches to be had. Dogs and chickens wandered about, along one pig being chased by a chubby, out of breath woman. He helped catch the pig, and she thanked him politely.

He found a small bakers' market at one square. There were breads and pies and pastries. He did spend a few smaller coins on a jelly filled pastry he took with him while he wandered some more.

There were other corners with entertainers. There were jugglers, singers and minstrels, even a mime. All were entertaining enough, but none of them held his attention the way Larissa had. Their friendliness seemed less genuine, he eventually decided.

He realized that lunchtime had come and gone while he'd been wandering, although the pastry had taken care of any hunger for now. He did stop back at the caravan to let them know he'd be back for dinner later, and to grab his bag for that night at the inn. He had no idea which inn the men were staying at, but Frank assured him that enough of them would be back for dinner at camp that it wouldn't be a problem just joining them after the meal. Then Matner headed off again.

Despite his intent to explore parts of the city he hadn't seen yet, he found that the city itself wasn't as large as the one he'd grown up in. It didn't take him much time to finish exploring it. He was familiar enough with the way Calster was laid out and Tikor wasn't too different overall. It wasn't long before he found himself back at the same park where he'd first seen Larissa singing. He was surprised to find himself disappointed when the spot she'd been in was empty. He wondered what she was up to just then, and thought about trying to find his way back to Tira's. He still wasn't sure what it was she was up to, however, so he decided against it, despite the thought that Larissa might know of more interesting places in the city to see.

He found himself drawn, instead, to a bookstore. It wasn't situated in a specific shopping district, like most of the stores were. Instead it was just another small house in a line along one side of the park. The small, wooden sign had been painted a bright shade of blue that caught his eye, however, so he had drawn closer to see what was on it. The detailed depiction of a small set of books, standing upright between two pillared bookends was both carved into the wooden sign and then painted a white, contrasting to the blue. The sign in the window said "Blue Ben's Books" carved and painted to match the one hanging over the door, with another hanging below it saying "welcome" that had been painted in opposite colors. Through the window he could see a man sitting in an overstuffed chair, using the shafts of sunlight to read a thick book through a pair of glasses. Curious, he found himself stepping inside. A small bell tinkled as he opened the door, causing the man to look up from his book, and over the rims of the glasses, to see Matner.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matner said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Interrupt? From this book?" the man asked. His voice was at the same time both gravelly and a bit squeaky. It was an odd voice, something he would have expected more from some old crone than from this man who still had all the brown to his hair. The book merchant looked younger than Father.

"I've read it before," the man finished, closing the book. "It's not one of my favorites."

"I don't know why I stopped in," Matner explained. "The blue sign caught my eye, is all."

"Then that's why you've stopped in, I suppose," the man said. "I'm Blue Ben, you see." There was nothing blue about the man that he could see. His eyes were brown.

"I suppose there's a story behind that," Matner admitted.

"There're a lot of stories here, young mister. Some of them are sold, and some of them aren't." Blue Ben stood up from the chair, and went over to one of many bookshelves and put the book in an open space. There was no name on the spine of the book, Matner noticed.

"So, if I might ask, what is the story behind it?"

"Actually, it's not my story to tell..."

"How can that be? It's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it was given to me by another. It's his story to tell, if anyone's. But there are plenty of other stories here, some true, some fanciful."

"I see," he said, although he wasn't sure he really did.

The man chuckled for a moment, looking Matner up and down as if sizing him up. Matner wondered if maybe he should leave, feeling a little uncomfortable under the man's gaze.

"Heroes, I should say," the man suddenly declared. "You're looking for a book about adventure and heroes. Something that will both keep your attention and inspire. I have just the thing."

Curious, Matner stayed his ground, wanting to see what it was the man came up with.

"I don't know," he said, as the man headed towards one of the shelves. "I'm just passing through town. Books are a bit cumbersome to carry around..."

"However!" the man replied, putting up a finger to stop him. "I'll bet you didn't know that once you own a book you can trade it at most bookstores for another! Many times bookstore owners will trade you a book in similar condition or exchange it for a small bit of coin. The first book you purchase could lead to a wealth of stories for years to come. And there are many times you might find yourself in need of something to amuse you whilst you wait on something else. Some books have tales such that you will want to read them over and over again!"

The man seemed strangely excited, and his eyes lit up as he spoke. He gave Matner a warm smile and then turned back to the shelf, moving his finger along in front of the book spines as he squinted through the glasses.

"No... no... ech, not that one... no... not quite... no... where is it?... no... not remotely... hmm... no... Ah-HA! That's the one!"

He pulled out a book, blowing dust off the top of it. He pulled a cloth out of his pants pocket and wiped it off, before handing it over to Matner. It was bound in soft, reddish-brown leather, with black lettering stamped into it. It was about twice as thick as Matner's hand, though slightly longer in length and width than his hand was. It said "Five Tales of Bravery," on the front with the name Javaris Melkner below it. It wasn't an author he'd ever heard of, although Matner had never been in the habit of reading books other than those required for schooling purposes. His brothers had always been the ones who read. Velander had favored books on business or the occasional mystery tale, while Endrew had been the one to read every adventure story he could get his hands on. Matner suspected that it was possible Endrew had read a copy of the book he held now.

"My brothers have always been more interested in books. There were books for schooling, but they were never all that interesting."

"School books seldom are, lad," Blue Ben said with a chuckle. "But that one is. You've left home, haven't you?"

"Yes, and somehow it seems that people can tell. How is that?"

"Just a look, perhaps. You look around you and see everything for the first time. Nobody who lives here does that. Now, for your age, you probably left home either to find something, or someone, or perhaps to find out who you really are--what kind of man you want to be. That book will help you with ideas."

"Well, thank you," Matner said eventually.

"Well, it isn't a gift," Ben replied. "I do have a shop to run. That's twelve silver." Matner balked at the amount for a moment. But books were expensive, and the man had mentioned being able to trade it later. It was more of his money than he planned on spending all at once, but he dug it out and paid the man.

"Thank ye," Ben said, slipping the coins into a bag he kept in a pocket.

"Now, since I don't expect you're buying a second one today, I'll let you go and see the rest of what you want to see today. If you pass through again, stop in and tell me what you thought of the book. Until then, may your journey be filled with wonders, and perhaps you'll inspire a book yourself."

The bell tinkled again on the door as he left, and he heard the man settling back into his chair behind him. He made his way down to the street, wondering how he'd been convinced to buy the book. He blinked in the daylight and threw a glance back at the window, where Blue Ben sat, intent on another book. He had a vague suspicion he could have been under some sort of spell, but at the same time he had no desire to try and go into the store and try to get his money back. He shook his head, and began making his way back towards the marketplace and the caravan.

He was the first to arrive back at camp for dinner. After stashing his new book in his bag, he took some time for some light practice and stretched out the wounded shoulder. He tested the weight of the sword in it, but could tell that he'd do better to hold it two-handed for a few days yet. He was careful to keep his movements slow and deliberate. Depite Evara's warnings, he did break a little bit of a sweat by the time that he was through, but had been careful enough that he hadn't caused the shoulder any further pain. It ached and throbbed some, but he was surprised at how little it actually hurt.

He stopped his practice when the twins returned to camp, and sat down with them by the fire instead. Evara appeared at his side with her bundle of medicinal supplies again and he pulled his shirt off the shoulder so she could look at it again. She seemed surprised and pleased that he hadn't managed to hurt himself, and gave him a nod of approval once she was done cleaning and redressing it. By then, the twins were already telling stories of the things they had managed to see while they'd been exploring the city that day. Frank had sat down with them and was listening, as they told their tale. Nelser tended to do most of the talking, while his brother, Kelver, would continually interrupt him to add tidbits of his own.

"...an' he had this little monkey," Nelser said, excitedly, holding up his hands to depict a size.

"It weren't that little," Kelver put in, holding up his own hands. "More like this."

"Naw, it was littler," Nelser shook his head. "Anyways, it jumps off the old man's shoulder an' goes runnin' all over like it's half-crazed or somethin'. We was wondering what had gotten into it -"

"You were wonderin', Nel. I figured it'd do somethin' funny!"

"You didn't know nothin'! Anyways, it runs all over an then it grabs up this pot o' flowers some woman's got sittin' on her step. It balances it on it's head while it walks around mimicking some woman that happens ta walk by!" Nelson got up and imitated the way the woman walked, attempting to look all snooty and swinging his hips back and forth.

"Now the lady," Kelver interjected, "gets all snooty about it, acting shocked er something."

"Anyways, she turns her back on the monkey, all standin' with her hands on her hips all pouty and sulking like. The monkey smashes the flower pot on the ground and throws this terrible tantrum. Only he's not makin' a sound. We were all laughin'."

"Well, ever'one but the lady," Kelver pointed out.

"Yeah, ever'one but her," Nelser went on. "So its just a minute before she turns around. The monkey, of course, is calm in an instant, an' it turns an' puts his hands on his hips an' turns, just perfectly like she did!" And Nelser turned and put on this funny pouting expression. It looked rather exaggerated, but was fairly amusing.

"She didn' like that much," Kelver explained.

"Nope, not one bit. So she turns an' stalks away makin' this snooty hurmph sound. The monkey follows with this pouty swagger. It takes 'er a minute before she realizes what's goin' on. She tries to turn around all sudden like, but the monkey dashes out of her sight and gets behind her. She's got this biggish skirt on, an' the monkey gets under it without her noticin'."

"Took her a while to notice, too. She just kept spinnin' 'round as if she thought she'd catch it on the next turn er somethin'," Kelver put in.

"Aye!" Nelser went on, "And 'er face was gettin' red as a tomato while she's doin' it. But I don't think I've seen anyone's eyes git so big as hers did when she realized where it had gotten!" Nelser opened his eyes as big as they would go and gave everyone a mocked look of horror.

"They were even bigger than Nelser's," Kelver nodded, pointing at his brother. "Goose-egg big!"

"So then she shrieks like a banshee and yanks her skirts darned near to her waist," Nelser said. "She starts kicking an' jumpin' about. The poor monkey skitters out from under 'er an' plucks up one o' the flowers what were in the pot. He takes it over to 'er an' puffs up his chest, all gentleman-like, an' holds that flower out with the saddest face I ever seen."

"Now the monkey has drawn a bit 'o a crowd at this point, so's everyone goes 'awww' when he does that, you know?"

"So she couldn't ignore the crowd. The lady takes a look around and gives this little smile, like she knows she can't get away at this point. So she takes the flower an' says 'good monkey, nice' as she backs away."

"That's about the point when the old man realizes what's been goin' on, see. He'd been facin' the other way, fer one." Kelver interjected.

"So the old man calls the monkey over with a whistle. The monkey comes a-runnin' right quick and scampers back up onto the man's shoulder," Nelser continued. "The woman, seeing now that the monkey belongs to someone, gets all snooty again and stomps on over to 'im askin' if that monkey belonged to him and if he'd seen what the monkey had been doing or not."

"Then the man turns around an' looks at her. But it's freakish, you see -"

"Because he's got two glass eyes!" Nelser cut in quick to keep his brother from getting to say it.

"Aye! That stopped her short, it did."

"So the man says, all calm as can be, 'my dear woman, I can only imagine from your voice that my monkey was merely hoping to imitate your beauty and grace. If she has offended you, I do apologize,' an' then he bows, like this," Nelser made an exagerated gentleman's bow, low and sweeping.

"I thought her jaw was goin' to just fall out of 'er head the way it dropped like that. That was what really 'mbarrassed 'er--"

"An' then she just hitched up the front o' her skirts and ran off like a school girl bein' chased by bees!"

Nobody else had a story to top that one for the day. A couple of late comers came back after dinner was already being served. That triggered another telling of the Monkey Story.

Matner let himself fall into some of the other conversations. Mostly they were comparing notes amongst themselves about things they'd seen, or what they had for lunch. A couple talked about things they had noticed that had changed since their last trip through.

"I found a book shop," Matner answered, without naming it, when asked what he had found.

"Probably a good idea," another suggested. "Sooner or later you'll probably want one." Sameth made a quiet, disagreeing noise, but no one responded to it.

Dinner consisted of roasted chickens with some kind of spice flakes sprinkled over it along with potatoes and corn. Matner found himself pleasantly full afterwards. It wasn't long before some of the others were starting to stand and talk about heading out to the inn. One of them spared a moment to look over at Matner.

"Mind if I join you?" Matner spoke up quickly.

"Not at all!" Nelser said, throwing an arm around Matner's shoulders. Matner cringed with the pain when Nelser's hand slapped his hurt shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," Nelser said quickly, pulling his arm back. "Tell ya what, if ya want to stay at the inn--an' by now I 'spect yer ready for a bed for the night--git your bag an' I'll carry it for ya."

"Thank you," Matner said. "I'll be quick."

He raced to the tent, feeling a little excited. He realized he missed having his friends around to just kick back with at the end of the day. As he grabbed up his bag, he wondered if it would ever feel the same as it had with Rafer and Leyeb. They had known him for most of his life, but it would take a while before he knew these men well enough to feel so comfortable in their company. However, Nelser's grinning as Matner came back to join the group made him feel optimistic.

With a wave from Frank, they all headed off out of camp. He listened as they walked, while Raleth talked about some woman he'd been trying to get to come to the inn that evening. His plans for her were less than gentlemanly, and suddenly Matner understood a part of where the divide between himself and the others was coming from. He'd been raised to see such endeavors as improper and disrespectful, whereas the others were encouraging Raleth, slapping him on the back and wishing him luck if she should come. He frowned to himself in the darkness, a part of him realizing he wanted to warn the girl of Raleth's less-than-honorable intentions. He remained as silent as Dir Ketten during the remainder of the walk to the inn, thinking.

Once in the inn, he arranged for a room with the innkeep, trying not to frown at the slowly dwindling amount of coin in his purse. He wondered briefly when he'd receive any pay he might have earned, but didn't want to bring it up in front of the others. He made a mental note to ask Frank the next day instead. The room was small, with a bed and bureau in it. There was a pitcher and basin on the bureau and he took a moment to clean himself up before heading down to the greatroom with the others.

Fires blazed cheerfully in the three fireplaces, which made the room a bit warm in the summer air, although there were plenty of windows to help air the place out. Lanters hung on hooks along the walls, keeping the room well-lit, and young men and women ran to and fro with trays of ale-filled mugs for the patrons. The room was fairly well-packed, but the group had managed to secure themselves a spot at one of the tables closer to a fireplace. It was a little warmer there, but someone handed Matner a mug of ale and he found it to be refreshingly cool in his mouth. He drank it gratefully and turned to thank the person who'd given it to him, surprised to find it had been Dir Ketten. The man merely gave Matner a smile and nodded in reply to Matner's thanks.

"He always buys the first round," Kelver said, next to him. "Maybe he's afraid we'd leave 'im behind as he's not too good with the tellin' o' stories an' all." Several of them laughed at that, and Dir Ketten seemed amused by it. "Far be it from us to turn down a round o' beer though!" He raised his glass and nodded at Dir Ketten, who raised his own in response.

"Here, here," most of the others cheered in unison, raising their glasses too.

Matner raised his own with a grin, and then drank with the others, starting to enjoy himself.

He tried to watch his drinking, but nonetheless found himself a little dizzy by the end of the evening. Sameth looked to have had another drink more than him, and it seemed to him that Sameth was laughing a little too much and too loud.

The others had all done some drinking, but were still acting normal. Everyone was having a good time, and so was he. There had been some dancing at the beginning, but as he started to feel the beer he started sitting them out, watching instead.

He laughed with them as they took turns telling jokes. Somehow it never made it all the way around to his turn before they ended up stopping. He spent more than a couple of minutes nervously trying to remember a good one in case they started back up again. But they didn't, and eventually he relaxed again.

Eventually they all wandered up to their respective rooms. Having his own room was certainly nicer than sharing a tent. But as he undressed he pulled his purse out and set it on the bureau. He frowned at it and again reminded himself to ask Frank tomorrow about getting paid.

He was tired, more so because of the beer, but he did get washed up and took the bandages off his shoulder. Everything looked closed up, at least as much as he could safely see by candlelight. He left the bandages on the bureau as well, and settled into bed. It was nice to sleep without stuff wrapped around his shoulder, and he fell asleep easily like one does when sleeping on a mattress after a while without one.