"Don't do what? I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
The big man held his hands up defensively. "But I didn't say anything."
A surprised look suddenly shot across Elandar's face, his bushy eyebrows springing to life. He looked about excitedly. "Tenderfoot!" Elandar exclaimed in a hushed tone.
"What?" Morgan answered shortly, without thinking.
The old man leaned in closely, a conspiratorial look about him. "I think that crook running the stables fancies you," he whispered. Elandar took a step back and nodded sagely.
Morgan rolled his eyes and began walking faster. "We need to hurry up and get back to the tavern. We'll need all the sleep we can get tonight."
"She was pretty," Zanadar offered innocently, matching the ranger's pace.
"Shouldn't we be discussing the plan for tomorrow?" Morgan asked.
"There really isn't much to it, I'm afraid. We wake up, get my sword and the horses and then go to Rindol Field," the big man answered. "Who is Gillian?"
Morgan ignored the question.
"Are you courting her?" Zanadar asked. "Your wife perhaps?"
"Wife!" Elandar said. "He's just a boy. He's far too young to be married."
"I don't know Elandar," the big man replied. "Maybe it's a political marriage."
"...and that's why he doesn't walk to talk about it," the old man finished.
"Exactly."
"And that lawless rogue Renna?"
"Well she is just his mistress in the city," Zanadar explained.
"All right!" Morgan said finally, throwing his hands in the air. "She is my sister."
"Who?" Elandar asked.
"Gillian!"
"Ah, now it's all beginning to make sense," Zanadar replied knowingly.
"I told you he was too young to be married," the wizard said. "My advice to you, boy, is to never burden yourself with marriage. Especially not to your sister."
Morgan tried to think of a response, but the best he could muster was a strongly disgusted look.
"You are demented, old man," Zanadar accused. "So Gillian lives in Tursh?"
"Yes," Morgan answered, "she does."
"And Renna wants her to come and live in New Targonor?"
"Yes," Morgan said cautiously, "that is correct."
"What do you think of that idea?"
Morgan turned abruptly. "Why are you interrogating me?"
"Just making conversation," the big man said with a grin.
Soon the three men had made their way back to the tavern on the far end of the city. Thick torches illuminated the side of the building, their flames dancing silently into the crisp night air. Morgan could hear music coming from inside, accompanied by loud voices and occasional bouts of laughter.
The door to the tavern suddenly flew open, flooding the street with the familiar stench of beer and sweat. A short, portly man stumbled out of the entrance and rudely pushed his way past Morgan before staggering off into the darkness. The door began to swing back shut but Zanadar caught it. He gestured for the others to enter.
The inside of the tavern was a sharp contrast to the relative peacefulness of the evening's streets. A small troupe in the corner of the building performed a merry, upbeat tune while the more jovial patrons drunkenly sang along. Workers, retired for the day, lined the walls of the bustling tavern making passage through the crowd difficult.
"You are in rooms five and six. And no matter what the drunk in the common room tells you, room five does not belong to him," a muffled voice called out from somewhere in the crowd.
Morgan scanned the area, attempting to find the source of the voice. A large, heavy-set man standing directly in front of the ranger suddenly lurched forward, as if struck from the other side. Sascha stepped calmly out from behind him, an annoyed look on her face.
"Next time move!" she hollered at the patron. She narrowed her eyes at the three men and held up her hand. Two keys dangled from her clenched fist.
"Thank you," Zanadar said pleasantly, reaching for the keys. Sascha snatched them away at the last second.
"Not so fast," the barmaid said. "You three will be going straight up to bed. I don't need any more trouble down here tonight, and you...," she pointed at Elandar, "are always trouble."
"Blasted wench, I've never done anything wrong."
"What did you just call me?"
"Never mind him," Morgan said. "That sounds fine to us. We were planning on going straight up to bed anyway and we will be out of your hair before dawn tomorrow morning." He shifted the traveling pack on his shoulder and pulled a coin from the small pouch on his belt. "In fact," the ranger continued, "why don't you take this now so we can just leave tomorrow without disturbing you?"
Sascha's harsh gaze softened a bit. "That will work just fine. Thank you," she said and took the coin. With that, Sascha handed him the keys, then promptly turned and went back to the other patrons.
"Very diplomatic Morgan," the big man approved. "You do learn fast."
"I just want to get this pack off my back," he replied. He looked down at his hand. "Do you want room five or six?"
"We'll take six," Elandar stated.
Zanadar shrugged. "Six sounds good."
Morgan handed the big man the key and lead the way through the crowd towards the rickety staircase at the far end of the building. The second story of the tavern was centered around a single hallway leading from the stairs to a dark common room on the opposite side of the floor. Three doors lined each side of the hall adjacent to one another. Rough looking numbers had been crudely etched into the center of each of the heavy wooden frames.
"Don't worry, its more comfortable than it looks," Zanadar said in a reassuring voice.
"I wasn't worried, it looks fine to me. I'm used to the ground and I doubt it could be any less comfortable than that," Morgan answered as he found the room with a five etched above the door.
Zanadar unlocked and opened the door to his room. "You're probably right. If it were less comfortable than the ground they wouldn't get very much business," he grinned, "now would they?"
"Enough talking!" Elandar scolded harshly. "I'm tired." The cranky wizard tried to push his way past Zanadar. "Get out of my way, meathead."
"And even if it's not very comfortable," the big man continued with a sidelong glance in the old man's direction, "at least you don't have to share a room with him."
Morgan laughed softly. "Very true."
"Good night," Zanadar said.
"Good night to you," he replied as the big man and Elandar disappeared into their room for the night. Morgan wasted no time in unlocking the door in front of him and entered.
The room was small, only a bed and a worn looking desk occupied the floor. A smeared window overlooking the alley to the side of the tavern provided the only source of light. The dim glow of the moon filtered through the dirty glass and settled gently around the room. It looked as if there had once been cloth drapes covering the window, but only their ripped corners now remained hooked to the wall.
Morgan set his pack on the floor and took a seat on the bed. It was surprisingly soft. The big man had been right. He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. The noise from below was plainly audible, though the music seemed to have stopped for the time being at least. He could hear staggered snoring from the common room and the smell was not much better upstairs than down, but Morgan did not care. He was tired. The previous night's hurried trek from Tursh had worn him out, and he had much on his mind.
He untied the straps holding his traveling pack closed and quietly opened the top, peering in at its contents. A dark leather wrapped hilt poked out through the opening. He thought for a moment then grabbed the hilt and tugged. A blackened, sturdy looking mace slowly worked its way free from the pack. Its shadowy-colored metal was light, making it easy to wield. He had another just like it in his pack.
Morgan turned the mace over in his hand as he thought. He had not expected Adlus to give him a real assignment. And though he was eager for the chance to prove himself, he was more than a little nervous at the prospect of it all. What if there was something in Rindol Field? For that matter, why had this task been assigned to him? What could be occupying the more seasoned rangers to the east in the highlands?
Morgan could not help but chuckle in spite of himself. He doubted that last bit was even true. Adlus had a flair for the dramatic and an even greater affinity for making situations seem much worse than they actually were.
More unexpected still though, was the addition of Zanadar and the cranky old man claiming to be a 'mighty wizard' to his assignment. Perhaps Adlus had sent Zanadar along simply to watch over him, to make sure that he did not foul up the job. Morgan knew better though. It was true, he was a novice, but he was more than capable of taking care of himself and handling matters with discretion. The Minister may not be the most learned man in the city, but he must know that.
So why send Zanadar? The question nagged at Morgan, hanging in front of him, the answer just beyond his reach. The only explanation he could offer was that the big man had been sent because Adlus was not sure he could handle whatever the problem was alone. Zanadar seemed like an intelligent person though. If that were indeed the case why would he bring a frail, delusional old man? Neither of them were even rangers.
The more Morgan thought the more unanswered questions he had. He liked Zanadar though, and knowing that the big man would be there in the event trouble should arise comforted him. Elandar, however, was a different matter entirely. Elandar worried Morgan.
Just then, a sharp pounding erupted from the entrance to the room. Someone was banging violently on the other side of the ranger's door. He tensed and instinctively tightened his grip on the mace, and waited.
