Friar Zebbnir was a soft-spoken man with a bushy black beard and a worried face. He wore a simple brown robe with a whipcord belt. His hands were thick and meaty, and they were attached to strong arms. I wondered at what this man of the cloth might do day-to-day to build such muscle.

   He asked me my name, nodded when I told him, and then set about the business of tending my wound. There was an unnatural hum in the air as he worked and my body felt warm. I couldn’t watch; I don’t like the site of my own blood flowing freely to the floor. I’m not sure if I felt no pain because I was numb or because of something he was doing, but I welcomed a little relief.

   He stood up and told me, “You may stay the night here.”

   When he left, I dared a look and found that my chest did not have a scratch left on it. I was hungry, hungrier than I had ever been in my whole life, but the fatigue of not sleeping for two days overtook me and I faded away.

   When I woke, there was a tray with bread, cheese and a warm, fragrant tea. I devoured the breakfast, not savoring a swallow.

   In the doorway, I could see Gravis talking to a man dressed in red and white robes. I couldn’t make out their words, but I saw the man hand Gravis a folded paper. The note disappeared into Gravis’ shirt.

   Gravis looked my way and hollered to me, “Well, look who is awake!”

   He tossed me a clean shirt, to which I replied, “I have no money—“

   “Nonsense! Take it, I can’t be seen with a half-naked man— Oh wait.” He smirked as he glanced over his shoulder to see if Logan could hear him. “One is enough, anyhow. We’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of us, so let’s get at it!”

   I pondered how three days ago I was on my way to Treffaren and how now I’m about to put on a stranger’s shirt. All I could think to say was: “Sounds grand!”

   When we stepped out of the cathedral the sun was late in the sky. I must have slept the better part of the day away. Logan walked with a casual stride in front of us and people on the street gave him wide berth.

   We crossed a great bridge. A stream flowed below us through a park. The sides of the ravine were steep and separated the cathedral from the rest of the town. Two towers stretched up into the sky, one stood two stories taller than the other. Both stood in great disrepair and appeared abandoned.

   When we reached the other side of the bridge we came to a town square, with the statue of warrior angel in the center. The stone was smooth and old, the original features worn away by time.

   “Have you been to Alcoa before?” Gravis asked.

   I shook my head. “No captain I’ve sailed with has made port here.”

   “Aye, and probably for good reason.” Gravis clapped me on the back. He leaned closer and whispered, “If you look at the people here — really look at them — what do you see?”

   The people on the street seemed like most people on most streets to me at a glance, but Gravis was right, there was something about their faces. “These people are worried.”

   “Nay, they are afraid,” Gravis said. “When night comes to this city, people pray to see dawn.”

   “Why is that?”

   Gravis shook his head. “The streets are not the place to talk of it.”

   I was completely dissatisfied with his answer. Who talks like that anyway? Maybe Gravis was a bit of a loon and I should have thanked him for the pulling me out of the water and left right then. Of course, wherever there is trouble either I find it or it finds me, and this seems like the quickest way to get it over with. I changed subjects, “What’s that building?”

   I pointed to a broad building in front of us. Many gargoyles perched on the ledges of the building and two giant cat statues guarded the entrance. Wide stone stairs led up to the front door.

   “That’s the parliament building, which you won’t be seeing the inside of today. Wait here.”

   I took another two steps as what he said sunk in, and when he looked at me, I realized he wanted me to wait right here. I looked around. There didn’t seem to be any inconspicuous spot to loiter. “Yeah, I’ll just wait right here.” I gave him something of a sarcastic grin.

   As Gravis and Logan walked up to the great wooden doors I was not even looking any more. The streets were near empty of people now and the sky was overcast. The breeze blowing through the city was foul and I wondered what made the stench so strong. Every villager, in every port I’ve have been to, has been superstitious, that’s nothing new. It’s just a matter of motive – who wants them to be scared and what do they want them to not know. Usually, I don’t care; I’m never there for more than a week. I don't plan to be here more than a week either.

   As time passed while Gravis and Logan were inside the parliament building, I begin wondering if I should make my way to the docks and see about finding a captain I might sail under. Maybe in the morning – if I left Gravis now, I had no money and I’d be sleeping on the street, which is just asking for trouble with the city guard.

   The wooden doors of the parliament building opened and Gravis and Logan strode down the stairs. Gravis looked disgusted. Logan’s face was impassive, as it always seemed to be.

   “Let’s go,” Gravis said without pausing for me.

   I fell into step beside him. “Didn’t go well?”

   “The Governor is either a spineless twit or a callous cur.”

   Logan grunted. “He is not his own master.”

   I’m confused, truly and completely. “What are you talking about?”

   “It doesn’t matter,” Gravis said. “We’ll stay the night in Fish Town and in the morning you are welcome to part ways with us.”

   I nodded. No sense prying into other people’s business, which only leads to more trouble. Of course, as I’ve said before, trouble finds me anyway.