"These don't grow anywhere but Shace," Faalken told him.

"No wonder they're expensive," Tarrin mused as he took a sip of the ale. He was surprised. It was his father's. Tarrin could tell his father's ale as clearly as a smith could see the difference between a forge and an anvil. He laughed ruefully. "This is my father's ale," he said.

Walten took another drink of his. "It is, isn't it?" he agreed with a grin.

"Then your father's a good brewer," Faalken said.

"It's a hobby of his," Tarrin said. "I'll have to tell him that people who buy it are selling it instead of drinking it," he said mainly to himself.

"Well, eat fast, cause we'll be up very early," Faalken cautioned. "I suggest you go to bed right after you eat."

"I intend to," Walten groaned, putting his hand to his back. "Mistress Dolanna took away the pain, but not the soreness."

"With good reason," he replied. "What you're feeling is exhaustion, not just saddlesores. If she'd taken that away, you wouldn't want to sleep. And you need it. Healing isn't just a touch and you're well. It drains away some of your own strength, as well as some of hers, before the magic of it puts some of it back. That's why it's not an entirely pleasant feeling."

"You can say that again," Tarrin agreed. "It felt like she put ice down my shirt."

"That's as good a description as any," Faalken chuckled. "It's worse the more she has to heal." He took a drink from his flagon. "If you're hurt too badly, it'll kill you before it can heal you, if the healer isn't very careful."

"What can Dolanna do with magic?" Tarrin asked impulsively.

"I'm not going to answer that," he said bluntly. "I'll leave the explanations of it up to her. I'd be a bad teacher anyway." He looked at both of them, seeing that they were done. "Finish your ale and let's go to bed."

"What about the dishes?" Tarrin asked.

"Oh, we put them on the trays and set them out in the hall. Luhan or someone else will pick them up later. Now let's get to bed."

They put their dishes out, undressed for bed, and Tarrin put out the lamp after they locked the door.

Wake up, something seemed to whisper to him. You have to wake up.

Tarrin awoke in the middle of the night. He had no idea why; usually he was a very light sleeper, but he didn't wake up unless there was a reason. He looked around. Walten and Faalken were still asleep. The window was open, and a cool breeze blew in from the rather warm summer night outside, the top of his windowsill illuminated in a very faint ruddy light. Could that be what woke him up? That light was probably a torch, held by a watchman or a latecomer down below.

He decided he was just jumpy, being the first night out, and laid back down, ready to go back to sleep.

Then he heard it again.

It was the faintest of noises, like the sound of a man stepping on a twig, but not quite. It came from under the floor, where the kitchen was. He swung his legs out of bed, wanting to get a candle.

The floor was hot.

Tarrin pulled his feet back up quickly and reached down and put a hand on the floor. It was hot. Very hot. That could only mean one thing.

The kitchen was on fire.

"Faalken!" Tarrin called quickly, reaching over and grabbing his boots. His boots were noticably warm where they were sitting on the floor. "Faalken!"

"What is it?" he asked in a calm voice.

"The floor is very hot. I think the kitchen is on fire."

Faalken reached out and put his hand on the floor, then snatched it back. "I think you're right. Walten!"

"I'm up," he said grimly.

"Get on your boots and get Dolanna," he ordered. "Tarrin, go downstairs and make sure. If there is a fire, get everyone up and out of the inn."

"Yes sir," Tarrin said, yanking on his boots quickly and jumping out of the bed. He went to put his hand on the door, then yelped and drew it back. "Aaii!" he hissed, shaking his hand. "Faalken, the hall must be on fire! I can't even put my hand on the door!"

They could hear it now, the rushing, roaring, and crackling that came with a fire. Smoke began to pour in from under the door.

Faalken jumped out of bed and grabbed his metal gauntlet, put it on, and smashed his hand through the wall between their room and the room holding Dolanna and Tiella. "Dolanna!" Faalken shouted. "Dolanna, there's a fire! Get up!"

"Faalken!" she called in reply. "It is too large for me to try to affect! We have to go out the windows! Throw our packs down and jump out the windows!"

"Tarrin, Walten start throwing out packs!" Faalken ordered, getting on his boots. "I'll go out first and catch the ladies as they jump!"

"Come on!" Walten called urgently to Tarrin as they ran to the packs stacked neatly in the corner. They quickly formed a unit. Tarrin would toss packs to Walten, who was standing by the window, who would then throw them to the ground one story below. Tarrin picked up the last pack and threw it to Walten, then he started collecting up Faalken's armor and his sword belt. "Go on, I'll get these!" Tarrin ordered.

"Alright, I'll catch them on the ground," Walten said, climbing into the window and then dropping out of view. Tarrin waddled across the room under the heavy burden of the weapons and armor, then carefully dropped them out of the open window. Tarrin saw many people in nightclothes milling about on the grass below as many of them threw buckets of water on a raging fire on the first floor and a bit to Tarrin's right. That was the light that had illuminated the top of the windowsill. "Tarrin, come on!" Walten called, waving his hand.

"I have to get my things!" he said. "I have time!"

Tarrin rushed back in and grabbed his bow and staff, made a fast sweep to make sure they hadn't left anything, and then ran back to the windowsill. Just as he reached it, there was a loud bang behind him, and he suddenly found himself smashed against the wall. On his kness, he turned and looked as he felt sudden, searing heat against his back and side.

The door had exploded inward under the heat, and the raging inferno was sweeping into the room like water. Tarrin saw something for a fleeting instant, and then saw it again. It almost looked like a man, except its outline was one of flames, and it was almost invisible in the conflagration around it. But he could see its eyes, green slits or pure light that stared out from the flames like twin beacons of doom. It seemed to point at him, and the fire erupted at him like water rushing from a cracked dam.

Blinking away his surprise, he quickly got to his feet as the fire swept in after him. He didn't have time to do this gracefully. Just as the fire was about to engulf him, he turned and dove headfirst out the window.

There was a feeling of weightlessness, as the ruddy-illuminated ground changed places with the starry sky in a whimsical manner, and then there was a numbing pain all along his right side and the back of his head. He felt his mind swirl around like the sky and ground had done, so much so that just trying to remember how to move was quite a chore. He managed to roll over and get onto his hands and knees, but his head refused to respond to his commands to lift it, hanging limply from his shoulder as he groggily tried to get up.

He got some semblance of response from his neck. His head lifted partially up, but his brain instantly swam in a haze of distorted pain and disorientation. It proved to be too much for him. Without a sound, Tarrin slumped down to the ground as his mind descended into darkness.

Tarrin was first aware of the light. He opened his eyes as they registered a dancing, wavering light against the inside of his eyelids. He was laying on the ground on his back, staring up at the stars, partially hidden by smoke. Dolanna, in a nightshirt, was kneeling beside him, and his body registered an icy after-feeling and an exhaustion that he wasn't used to feeling. The wavering light was the fire. It had totally consumed the entire structure, regardless of the attempts to put it out, and now men and women worked feverishly to keep it from spreading to other buildings. They were well away from the blaze. Walten and Tiella stood nearby with Faalken, the three of them holding onto the reins of their horses. Their packs were both on the ground nearby and on the horses; obviously they'd been tying them on to make it easier to move. Tiella was in a nightshirt, and Walten in nothing but breeches and boots. Faalken had found the time to put on both his clothes and his armor.