He saw the walls a good two miles off and considered. The sack of coins on his belt was light, but if it was legal he could pick a fight in a bar. A good victory would easily get him room and food for the night.

The guards stopped him at the gate and stared at him. "What is your name?"

"Quarrel-Karn," he called, shielding his eyes against the setting sun. "Of the Burning Cloak."

The guards' looks turned even more incredulous. While he had no cloak, Quarrel-Karn was burning. Genasi, humanoid embodiments of elemental chaos, often drew such looks from isolated humans, especially fire genasi.

Movement on the corner of his eye drew Quarrel-Karn's attention. A woman was jogging atop the wall. At first, he thought it was just a trick of the darkening light. But no, upon further examination he saw that her skin was indeed red, and she had horns and a tail, too.

"Tiefling!" he called. "Could you convince your friends to open the gate?"

The tiefling paused and leaned over the stone rail to get a good look at him. "What's a genasi doing so far from home?" she asked.

"I could ask the same of you."

"I'm jogging."

"I'm tired and hungry."

"Don't forget stinky."

He grinned. "I'll cause less offense to your nose if you open the gates and let me bathe."

She returned the grin, disappeared for a moment, then jumped over the ledge, landing hard on her feet and palms.

Quarrel-Karn blinked. "No stairs?"

"Not on this side." She stood and wiped her palms against her cotton clothes. "I'm Shakairra."

"Quarrel-Karn."

"Captain's coming. When we get someone as...strange...as you we get his opinion."

"So you're practiced in the exotic?"

"Considering a deva saved our asses from a goblin raid this morning, yes."

Quarrel-Karn blinked again. "A deva?"

"An invoker of Moradin. Good one, too."

"I see. Is that...?" He motioned to his cheek.

Shakairra reached up and brushed against the raw slash across her face with an annoyed frown. "Damn archers."

Quarrel-Karn gave his best grin. Where has this wench been all my life?

"You never did answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Treasure hunting," Quarrel-Karn answered as the gate opened and out stepped a man in platinum armor flanked by two guards in boiled leather and mail.

The human frowned at Shakairra. "What are you doing here, Romazi?"

"Investigating," she replied. "Girls get curious of strangers."

"You know the saying of curiosity."

"I'm not a cat. Sir."

Quarrel-Karn could not stop grinning. "Shakairra was not at fault, sir. I started it."

"I see." The captain looked him up and down. Quarrel-Karn could only imagine the sight he produced. Even for a genasi he looked strange. His obsidian-colored skin was cracked with energy lines glowing the color of fire, sometimes yellow, sometimes orange, sometimes red, and instead of hair he had a head of fire flickering in the cold wind. He was at even height with the captain, and his eyes glowed like orange embers. He was bundled in thick wool over his light travel clothes against the biting winds of the season of Uktar, and though he wore no armor he carried a large fullblade across his back, almost as tall as the short tiefling with a blade as wide as a human's head.

"What treasure do you seek?" the captain asked bluntly.

Quarrel-Karn's eyes glittered. "The Artifact of Manifestation. Heard of it?"

The captain shook his head while Shakairra perked up. "An ancient genasi artifact. It's supposed to grant another manifestation. Earth, fire, storm, water, wind, any of them."

He smiled at her. "You know your history."

"I know my myths."

The smile slipped. "It's not a myth."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Eight different legends on who created it, the stories have it in three different places at once, it's a myth, Sparky."

"It is not! I've tracked it to the Shallow Sea."

The captain scowled while Shakairra hissed. "That's in Netheril."

Oops. "And I mean to take it out of Netheril before some dark wizard discovers it."

The captain was undecided. As he opened his mouth, Shakairra cut him off. "Sir, his accent puts him in Akanul. You know their relationship with Netheril."

"Not good", Quarrel-Karn almost said, but he held his tongue. The captain knew basic politics; he'd be able to recognize any genasi as an enemy to the shadow creatures of the great desert.

The captain turned and said something under his breath to the tiefling, who copied him. Quarrel-Karn did not have the sharp ears of an elf to hear them, but could well guess at the conversation and conclusion as they turned back half a minute later.

"I will grant you entry to the city," the captain declared, "but only for the night. By highsun tomorrow you must be gone."

"As you say," Quarrel-Karn consented.

"And you will have Shakairra Romazi with you at all times."

He blinked and looked at the tiefling, who shrugged.

Well, at least she's fair, Quarrel-Karn thought. She was nowhere near beautiful, and could almost be called common. But she bled such confidence and was so unique her flaws were almost invisible.

Quarrel-Karn grinned. "By noon tomorrow, sir, you'll never know I was here."