Lunch was a big plate of salad and eggs to share, no meat at all. And Fritos wasn't the best cook ever, the food didn't taste all that great. How do you mess up boiled eggs and raw veggies? I have no idea; ask Fritos, he can tell you.

When we had finished, Fritos cleared the table with a few words and a sweep of his hand, then he put on a hat to cover his ears with.

I opened the door and we walked outside, onto the street. Something told me to go in one direction, so I did.

About twenty minutes later, we came upon a tavern. The Royal Gardens was a dingy little place, with moth-eaten curtains, a sign that hung by one corner above the rotten wood door, and the smell of month-old splat coming from the stalls. I didn't see how it could be royal, but at least the name was better than the Quacking Moose, even if it didn't exactly fit the dirty old place.

However, the inside of the place was filled to the brim with soldiers, drinking and fighting and shouting. It seemed the Royal Gardens was popular with the military of Uru'baen.

It wasn't the type of place I would go into normally, but the same feeling that had led me to Uru'baen told me to sit down in the corner. Fritos followed my lead. He didn't look nervous at all about being trapped inside a place that smelled worse than the sewers with what seemed to be most of the army.

Five minutes later, I knew I had come to the right place. There was shouting from outside, and all the soldiers scrambled out, leaving just me, the barkeeper, and Fritos. Then two soldiers and one important-looking guy marched in, followed by the crowd that had just left the bar. The two soldiers were dragging someone behind them.

The prisoner was a boy around my age with a mischievous face, which was obscured by a forest of neck-length black hair. His hands were bound behind his back, and his ankles were tied together. A piece of cloth had been stuffed into his mouth. His clothes were the same as mine, except they were dark red and covered in blood. He was unconscious, naturally.

The things that caught my attention, though, were his bright red wings, which were identical to mine. Luckily, the soldiers didn't seem to have noticed them.

"Who dis tramp, sir?" asked one of the drunk soldiers who didn't seem to know how to talk.

The important-looking guy smirked. "He was making trouble at the entrance. Got all the way over here before we caught him."

One of the people carrying the boy grunted and heaved the prisoner onto a table with the help of his partner. "But, Captain," he said, "won't His Majesty want him?"

The captain shrugged. "Later. I want a few drinks first."

I whispered to Fritos, "Can we take them all on?"

Fritos did a quick head count. "Sixty seven. Yes, we can. Is the boy the reason we came?"

"Yes. Can you see them? Look at his back."

"He is like you."

"Right. If Galby gets him, it'll be bad. At least, I think it would be."

He said some more gibberish. "No reinforcements will come to their aid if we attack now."

"Let's go then."

Fritos and I stood up simultaneously. The soldiers finally noticed us and a few of them turned.

"Who are you?" the captain asked suspiciously.

Fritos said something, and the captain fell to the floor, dead.

It took a few seconds for the drunk soldiers to comprehend what had just happened. Then they pulled out their swords and charged at us, roaring.

Fritos didn't have a weapon, but he quickly fixed that but killing a soldier with a word and stealing his sword. Then he attacked the soldiers like a tornado, using magic and the sword to wreak havoc amongst the screaming men.

While the soldiers were busy getting themselves killed, I ran over to the table and cut through the boy's ropes with my dagger, then pulled out the gag. I shook him vigorously, but he seemed to be a really deep sleeper, because I couldn't wake him up.

I turned around to see that Fritos had already wiped out most of the soldiers. There were still about twenty left, but they took one look at the dead bodies on the ground and ran.

Fritos ignored them and the bartender, who was cowering behind the counter.

"We must leave now," said Fritos, turning to me. "Once those soldiers call for help, they will bring many magicians with them, and possibly even Durza, the Shade."

"Alright then," I said. "You take him," I gestured at the kid, "and leave the city. I'll distract Galby."

"Don't die," said Fritos, not sounding very worried. "Where will we meet later?"

"How about the north side of that big lake up by Gil'ead?"

The elf then ran. I walked outside and saw him zooming down the street like a motorcycle, except without the smoke and noise.

I flew into the air, ignoring all of the screams that followed from the random people down below, and then I just hovered there, doing my best to attract attention. I think I was doing a pretty good job of it, too.