He could sense Niara, but he couldn’t get a response from her.

:Hello? Niara? Are you awake yet?:

There was no answer, as there had been no answer for the previous few hours.

He had spent several hours earlier that day running around the city trying to track down Gabriel, Erik at his side until the unfortunate events requiring the immediate aid of a laundromat had transpired.

After that entertaining yet confusing conclusion to their chase, Leon had wandered around in search of a likely inn at which to spend the night. He settled on a cheap but fairly clean establishment he had spotted by chance down an alley and away from the main street. It was called the Golden Ass, and prominently displayed a donkey on its sign.

Upon entering, he had seen that it was a fairly quiet establishment, with patrons sitting around tables quietly talking and sipping on their ales, and not a single drunk to be seen. A few people had what appeared to be mutton stew with hard bread for a side. Only a very few heads had turned to look at him as he entered; everyone else had seemed to be too engrossed in their conversations or their drink to pay him any heed. The stares hadn’t necessarily seemed unfriendly… they just hadn’t seemed particularly curious either—more like he was being sized up and summarily dismissed.

The innkeeper had been, surprisingly, in superb physical condition and unusually young for one in his trade.

“You’re from out of town and wanting a room, I would imagine?” he had queried, wasting no time in his assessment of Leon.

“And a warm meal, if there’s any of that stew left,” Leon had responded.

He got both, and for much less than he had expected he would, given the cleanliness and general atmosphere of the inn.

And now he was here, sitting in his clean room, on his clean bed, looking at a clean bowl of water for washing, wondering just how he had managed to find himself in such an establishment at such low rates.

No matter. They seemed a professional enough lot—I don’t think they’d be in the habit of murdering or robbing guests.

He had taken his boots off by the door, and now he lifted his legs onto the bed and leaned back, laying out atop his sheets, head resting on a down pillow and feeling quite comfortable on what was likely the best mattress he had ever had the pleasure of sleeping on – Though technically I haven’t slept on it yet. Where do they get the money to keep this place running?

He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and the room around him, thinking. The room wasn’t very big, but it had enough space for the single occupant bed, a nightstand, a clothes rack, a comfortable chair in the corner, a chest with a spellbound lock that was keyed only to him and the innkeeper – who of course had to rekey the lock to each of the room’s new occupants as they rented the room – and a barred window.

He had asked about the bars, and had been informed that they would release in case of emergency.

:Niara. I think I’m in a thieves’ or assassins’ guild inn. It’s the only thing that makes sense, but I’d still like your insight.:

Still no response. He focused on her thoughts, trying to see what she was thinking, or dreaming. There was nothing—she was fast asleep; dead to the world; passed out. If it weren’t for the fact that he could still feel her, he’d be concerned that something malign had happened to her.

He was thinking about how he would tell Niara about his day, and all the ridiculous absurdities of it, when he fell asleep still fully clothed.

*              *              *

:I love you! Forgive me… please… don’t forget me…:

Niara’s words echoed in his head as he woke up in a cold sweat. His dreams had turned to nightmares, and he thought he could recall her uttering those words that sounded so terribly like a permanent farewell, but he couldn’t be sure.

His heart was pounding in his chest, and he flicked his eyes around his room which was now dimly lit from light filtering through the window. He could see nothing in the room, and could hear nothing in the inn around him, that could have caused his nightmare. He reached out to Niara, and felt nothing different than he had felt before falling asleep. He looked down at his hands, and saw that they were shaking.

Did I dream that? Was that all just a nightmare?

His nightmare had been hellish, like nothing that could possibly exist on this earth. At least, he hoped it couldn’t. He had seen Niara nailed to a giant wheel, her wings tattered and frayed, cuts and wounds covering her abused body, and her tail had been amputated. And then, Niara had become a skeleton, animated by her rage filled spirit. The skies had been filled with rolling clouds of fire, meteors streaming toward the earth, and lightning striking soldiers and animals alike, leaving nothing but charred corpses. Tortured spirits had been rising from the ground, almost like a field of tall grass swaying in the wind, as their howls and screams filled Leon’s head.

Were those Niara’s dreams? Did she call out to me from them, thinking she was dying?

He splashed water on his face from the basin on his nightstand, took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself.

He wandered to his window and looked up to see the night sky. The waxing gibbous moon was just visible between the buildings. A cool night breeze lightly billowed the curtains and helped cool him off, leaving his damp tunic feeling chilled against his chest.

Looking down, he could see the warm glow of the inn’s common room, where the fireplace was still apparently lit, illuminating the alley.

I wonder who’s up, still? I don’t think I can get any more sleep just yet… Eesh, those nightmares were something else.

Leaving his boots by the door,and just wearing his socks, he snuck out of his room quietly so as not to wake anyone, and headed off down the hallway toward the staircase that ran behind the bar and opened near the inn’s entrance. Before reaching the bottom, he started hearing hushed voices deep in conversation.

“… they’re under guard, and you know I’ve never been good at that kind of work,” whispered one voice.

Leon paused before coming into view, wanting to make sure he didn’t walk in on anything he might get killed over.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just get new ones. Are they really that important?” whispered another voice, this one sounding slightly familiar.

“They’re named. And deserving of it.”

An indrawn breath hissed from the room below. “No, I guess you can’t leave them after all. But do you really think anyone here might be crazy enough to help?”

The first man grunted softly. “I was hoping you could tell me that, if you weren’t up for it yourself. You’ve the skills.”

A soft chuckle. “I’ve the skills, but you’re the only person who knows it. I’ve no intention of blowing my cover and having to give up my inn. I quite like it here.”

His inn? The innkeeper?

“Then what of anyone staying here tonight? Anyone who frequents?”

“There may be a few… but it will take some time. And none who will work with you in that condition…” The innkeeper paused, as if considering. “I can understand the swords. But why can’t you get new clothes? I have some spares; I’d be happy to give them to you, free of charge, of course.”

No clothes? Leon felt his brows furrow. No… I’m not that lucky, am I?

“They’re enchanted. Artifact quality.”

“Of course they are… Why wouldn’t they be?” he grumbled. “But that doesn’t answer why you can’t wear something until you… ah, never mind. Wait,” he paused, “we’re not alone.” In a louder voice, he said, “Leon, I presume. Since you’ve heard so much, you may as well join us.”

Leon thunked his head against the wall in front of him – I’m absolutely the least stealthy individual to have ever walked this earth – and then walked the rest of the way down the stairs and into the common room.

“Gabriel,” he said, deciding to at least attempt to take the upper hand, “Niara sends her regards.”

Gabriel was indeed still naked, and his mouth was now hanging open slightly in apparent surprise. He pulled his head back slightly, staring intently at Leon, his left eyebrow rising and his right lowering.

The innkeeper also frowned. “Niara? I only know of one Niara, and I can’t imagine why she would ever want anything to do with this lunatic,” he said, still keeping his voice low.

Leon looked between Gabriel and the innkeeper, weighing his options. Niara hadn’t exactly told him to keep his mission secret, but he didn’t think he was supposed to just go around telling anyone and everyone who was curious.

But then, they do both know Niara… I wonder where the innkeeper knows her from… I wonder who the innkeeper is, for that matter.

Gabriel solved his dilemma for him. “Speak up. If Niara sent you, it must be important.” He looked at the innkeeper, then back at Leon. “Jerhyn’s an old… acquaintance. You can speak in front of him.”

Interesting. It’s almost like Gabriel doesn’t know what to think of this Jerhyn, if that’s even his real name.

“Right. Umm, well… I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of the conqueror coming from the south?” Gabriel and Jerhyn nodded. “Well, he has Nile Roan’s staff –”

Jerhyn and Gabriel burst into motion, Jerhyn going behind his bar to open a hidden panel, and Gabriel disappearing into the kitchen.

“– and… Niara sent me to find you?” he finished, lamely. Clearly they knew more than he did. He watched as Jerhyn extracted a sword with an ornate hilt sheathed in a plain looking scabbard. Jerhyn also took out what looked to be a tool kit of some sort, and a cloak that he slipped the tool kit inside of before putting on.

Jerhyn looked over at Leon and grunted, “Where’d he go?”

Leon pointed at the kitchen, where moments later Gabriel emerged no longer naked. Now, instead, he had a bed sheet wrapped around his waist and across his chest diagonally going over one shoulder. It didn’t look like it obstructed his movement any, but Leon couldn’t figure out how it stayed on, suspecting that it would likely fall off entirely at the most inconvenient time possible.

“We’re going now, then?” Jerhyn querried, reaching back into his hidden compartment to pull out another sword, which he tossed to Gabriel, who caught it comfortably with one hand and then nodded.

“And me?” Leon asked.

“You stay here,” Jerhyn commanded. “You’re clearly not suited to this kind of work. You chose to stay here, of all places. It was lucky that you did, but it also shows that you’re clearly inexperienced and foolish.”

It stung. Leon knew it was true, and that he certainly wouldn’t have chosen himself for this mission… But he had been chosen—twice now. But for now, all he could do was nod, and watch as the two men set off through the front door, disappearing into the night.

Turning, he found a chair next to the fireplace to sit down and wait out the night.