Chapter 4

The day passed uneventfully for Artemis. He lay on his stomach; keeping his head under the pillow, attempting to block out the majority of the standard sounds that inns accommodated. His head ached; he knew he was in a foul mood. Unfortunately – or perhaps because of – that didn't stop his internal clock from letting him know how much time he was wasting laying in bed.

He growled and cursed, ripping the pillow from over his head and hurling it across the room. It didn't even have the decency to make a thud against the wall. He laid there for some time; glaring initially, then staring blankly at the wall, the floor, different objects around the room, that damned pillow. The window was too bright, and made his headache worse.

Rolling onto his back, he huffed out a sigh. Physically he did still feel tired, and with his headache he would actually rather be asleep. He let his thoughts mull for a bit. If he were honest with himself, he was still bothered by his inability to recall the name of their location. That didn't mean he was willing to let Jarlaxle know that, though. Who knows, maybe old age is finally catching up with me. His mouth pulled downwards into a scowl.

Artemis grumbled as he got up and trudged over to his discarded pillow, bending down to pick it up. As he lifted it up, however, he stopped. He stood there, staring down at the hand that grasped the pillow for a long time.

That can't be right.