Katy led them through the small village, which to Bale seemed a rather subdued place. He noticed as they walked that Tremaine seemed rather uneasy, looking sideways at people as the passed, and peering into doorways. The villagers walked by, each one taking a look at the pair as if they were some anomaly, which Bale was beginning to feel like. The inn was only two floors, and seemed to be about the size of a small barn, but it was a place out of the weather if need be. They entered, finding the common room empty, save a fat man behind the bar polishing some silverware. He watched them as the trio stood before the bar, his eye wary for anything untoward.

"Antonus, we have visitors it seems who require food and a roof for a time." said Katy. Introductions were made, and the man inquired as to how long they would be staying. Tremaine spoke up first.

"Only a day, maybe two. We're on a long journey." Bale watched as Antonus scratched the balding spot on top of his head.

"Well, we do need some wood cut for the winter as well as help moving some stone for the new pilings were building our dock with. Don't suppose you're adverse to hard work?"

"No sir. We can certainly help with either of those tasks. I'm sure young Bale would help you with the wood, while I attend to helping move stone for the time were here." replied Tremaine. Bale nodded keeping up appearances, but inside was lamenting the idea of swinging an axe for a day or so. Antonus spit in his palm and stuck his hand out to Tremaine, who promptly did the same. Bale had never before seen the like of a deal sealed in this manner, but paid it no more thought.

As the day came to a close, Antonus prepared them a modest meal, which Tremaine didn't eat until Bale was well into his own. He kept checking his firearm, a three barreled shotgun, ensuring it was in working condition and ready to go at a moments notice. Bale asked him why he was acting funny.

"How would you know if I was?" asked Tremaine, starting to pick at his food.

"Well I saw how you were looking at everything when we got here, and also that lie you told about being from another village." He chewed thoughtfully on a piece of meat and then continued. "Why'd you do that?" Tremaine looked about the room ensuring that it was still empty.

"Look kid. I've been a lot of places, and most never look like what they actually are."

"I don't think these people are going to kill us." said Bale.

"You keep thinking that." Tremaine stuffed something akin to a potato in is mouth, and chewed. "Besides these people don't know where we've come from, what we're all about, or what we've seen. They have no idea how bad it is beyond the gate I'm assuming." Bale could see the man getting frustrated as he spoke. "Besides I've been to enough worlds with enough villages that looked enough like this to make me uneasy." Bale took that as his cue.

"Have you ever been to Ariannia?" he asked, looking at his plate.

"Never heard of it." Bale nodded, knowing how much chance would play into his journey to get home. He asked another about another place. "Atlantis?" Tremaine sat up looking at Bale, confused. "Why by the blue sky would you want to go there?"

"Have you been there or not?" demanded Bale, his own frustration becoming apparent.

"Never. I've only heard of it in my travels." They finished their meal in silence, and retired to a room with two beds, led by the in keeper holding a candle up to light the way. Bale listened to the nighttime sounds of the village, finding sleep elusive, even in the dark room as quiet as it was. He also had the distinct impression that Tremaine was still awake, but couldn't see to confirm it. So he lay there with his own thoughts, imagining what was happening at home since he left. Probably the same old routines as Pell always had: farming, baking, cutting wood. Much like this place he thought, a sleepy little village with its own brand of living. He also wondered if his parents missed him, the thought bringing a tear to his eye as he lay there in the dark. Rolling over, he could hear Tremaine breathing rhythmically across the room, which helped to put him under the spell of slumber.

He awoke to the sound of rapping at the door. Wiping the crusts from his bleary eyes, he saw Tremaine, eyes half open with his weapon propped on his stomach, the muzzle held low enough that he was clear of injury, and had a clear shot at the door.

"Come in!" said Bale, curious of the other mans manner. The inn keeper came, and seeing Tremaine laying there visibly tensed.

"Ah... I brought some breakfast." was all he could muster, holding the tray up. Tremaine nudged his head toward the table, and pointed his shotgun in a more polite area away from the inn keeper. "So when you're finished Bale, I'll show you where we get the wood, and where the splitting block is at." Another quick look at the shotgun, and then Tremaine who just stared back, blank faced. "Well I'll just leave you to it then." Which he did, shutting the door gently behind him.

"He seemed nervous." was all he said. Bale shook his head and moved to wash his hands with a small basin and pitcher. They ate quickly and silently, Tremaine not taking his eyes off the food, while Bale tore into it. After a minute or so the older man started to eat, which led Bale to pose the question.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" said Tremaine breaking bread.

"You wait for me to eat first. What are you waiting for?"

"To see if it's poisoned." The flat tone of the answer made Bale stop chewing and look at his food for a moment.

"Would it be?" asked Bale. Tremaine shrugged in return, and said nothing more about it. Once finished Bale stood up to go down to the inn keeper. Tremaine grabbed his arm before he could step away from the table, holding it firmly and looked him in the eye,

"Two things kid. First take your pack with you. Always. And second..." he shut his eyes, "...second, if anything happens you get to the gate. You don't look back. Understand?" Bale had never felt as dire a warning as this in his life. He nodded, and Tremaine let go, saying he would see him later maybe. Bale grabbed his pack and took his dishes down to the bar, rubbing his arm with his free hand. Antonus seemed amicable enough, not mentioning anything about Tremaine or the weapon. He took him down a small dirt road, showing him a hand cart that could be filled with wood from the pile next to it. Behind the inn was where the chopping block was located, along with a small shed for storing the split wood. He placed his pack into the cart and began his task of loading, hauling, chopping and stacking. Midday came and Antonus brought the sweat soaked boy some food to lunch with, placing a tray heaped with a slab of meat, several vegetables, and a mug of a frothy looking drink that smelled similar to what his Father would drink in the long house on occasion. Antonous sat down on an old bench that was worn from harsh treatment, warming himself in the midday sunlight.

"You never did say where you were from. Katy said you're from beyond the mountain range." Bale wasn't sure what to make of his question. Instead he just concentrated on eating, as quickly as he could. "I'm from over the mountain myself. You wouldn't happen to be from the township of Hummel would you?" Bale shook his head, his mouth full of food, and the warning the Tremaine had given him suddenly sprang to mind. He decided to keep the talk light, while he placed more food in his mouth.

"I haven't heard too many birds here. Is there a reason for that?" he asked. Antonus shrugged, playing the non-committal card as well. "I noticed that the last few days. Seems odd."

"Yes well... They migrate a bit around this time of year." The inn keeper began scratching his balding patch.

"Indeed." Bale then inquired how much wood it would take to heat the inn for the winter trying to divert the conversation. He succeeded and finished his meal, thanking Antonus before latching on to the cart and heading for the wood pile down the road, leaving the fat man watching him for a brief moment. Bale was beginning to get uneasy, but the feeling was soon eclipsed by sore muscles.

When the sun went down, Bale sat in the common room slowly eating his supper, when Tremaine walked in, his shotgun slung on his shoulder, and his armour carried in one hand. Antonus greeted him in a jovial manner, glacing nervously at the weapon, and handed him a plate of food and a large flagon of ale, which Tremaine asked to be replaced with water. The inn keeper complied and pushed the fare towards him, who took it and sat down at the table with Bale.

"How was it?" He asked, draping the metal plates across his lap, settling in.

"I'm sore. I must have chopped a lot of wood." He pushed more food in, talking with his mouth full. "More than I ever would have at home." Tremaine smiled and started eating.

"It'll be worse tomorrow." he remarked, drawing a groan of despair from Bale. They finished up, and retired to their room. This time Bale had started a candle so he would at least have some light to look at his book. He caught the attention of his roommate.

"What's that?"

"A book I found when I got lost." He sat at the table flipping the pages, looking for the one he had decided on when he left Stellara. Once found he pulled a thread from the blanket on his bed, and marked the page with it. Tremaine got up, looking over his shoulder in the dim candle light seeing the gate symbols and the accompanying script. He reached down and traced a line with his finger. Bale looked up in surprise.

"You know what it says!?" Tremaine looked at him as if interrupted from a fine meal, then shrugged.

"I recognize some of it." He sat down on his bed, his face clearly showing his mind at work. "It was a very, very long time ago."

"Well if you can read it," began Bale enthusiastically, "maybe you can help me figure out where all these places are!" Now Tremaine looked annoyed, glowering at the boy.

"I recognize some of it, but I can't read it fully." He lay back, and checked his shotgun laying next to him on the bed. "Besides I'd need a year to come close to understanding what's in there. I can barely read my own language, let alone theirs."

"Who are they?" Bale asked. "Maybe we can find one of them to help me!"

"You'd sooner have luck finding paradise boy. The people who wrote that book are all dead. The majority of them anyway." Bale looked at the volume, the symbols neatly scribed on the pages with care. There were no ornate designs, but the hand that wrote it cared enough not to smudge ink, or tear anything.

"Well who did write it?" asked Bale. Tremaine closed his eyes.

"That book belongs to a Satedan."