Griffin had been walking a few steps behind Birle for what seemed like hours. The sun had long since risen, and he hadn't slept all night for worrying about Lyss. Birle showing up had calmed him down considerably, though, even to the point where he almost felt like himself again. It was just comforting, he mused to himself as he trotted down the road behind her, not really aware of anything that might have been happening around him (not a whole lot was). Yes, it was comforting just to have someone else there with him, someone with whom he shared the common goal of helping out Lyss. Someone who actually seemed to have a plan. Griffin didn't like to admit it, but he had been totally at a loss for what to do before Birle had shown up. He would never have thought of simply continuing on to the Trader's Day without her... but, now that Birle had pointed it out to him, he could see that that was the right course to take. Lyss would be able to find what she needed to survive, and she would be able to continue on to the capital from wherever she was. What she was unlikely to be able to do was find her and Griffin's camp again. Staying had been helping no one.

A slight sort of crinkling noise brought him back to reality. What was that? he wondered, looking curiously around him. It wasn't that the sound had been very loud, it was just that it had seemed... well, out of place. He wasn't quite sure where a noise of that sort would fit in, actually. It sounded ever so slightly familiar, but also completely alien. What was it? He peered carefully around him, but failed to locate the source of the noise.

Griffin jumped as, just when he had begun to give up on it and return to his random musings, he suddenly heard the sound again. Again, he had the feeling that under some sort of different circumstances he wouldn't even have noticed this noise, but it just sounded so strange. It was just a soft, oh so subtle sort of thing... like a crinkle, or maybe a rustle... could it be someone walking through dead leaves? No; there was nobody else around, and besides; it was just near the end of spring. Maybe it was a fire; he had heard large bonfires make a sound sort of like that often in the forge. But this... this was different than that, somehow. It was just a gut feeling, but somehow Griffin was sure this was no fire.

Then it hit him. He knew where he'd heard that sound before, where it was that it wouldn't strike him as odd. With Lyss. He'd heard that sound whenever Lyss had had to write something down, or had looked at one of those strange list type things her and her mother used to keep track of the herbs they sold. It was the sound of someone shuffling paper.

It had to be Birle; where else could it possibly be coming from? But what was she doing with paper? He sped up slightly until he was almost walking next to her, but was still slightly behind. Birle was so immersed in whatever she as doing that she didn't notice him slowly sneaking closer.

Carefully, Griffin peered over her shoulder. She was trying to shield something with her cloak... what was it? The path then bent slightly, causing Birle to turn towards him. Sure enough, Griffin could see she was looking at a piece of paper with strange symbols written on it. Deciding it didn't matter if Birle knew that he'd seen it, he cautiously asked,

"Uh... what is that? That piece of—paper, the one you're looking at. I can't read, what does it say?" The moment he finished, he realized how rude the last part had sounded. He had no right to ask that. Hastily, he added, "Unless it's personal, of course. It's none of my business... forget I asked..."

Birle, who had jumped slightly when he spoke, looked up. They'd been walking in silence for so long; she had almost forgotten he was there. Glancing regretfully back down at the map for a moment—she'd almost thought she'd discovered a place they could stay and avoid contact with Orien, but then she'd realized that Lyss wouldn't be able to find them there either. Looking back at Griffin, she said simply,

"It's nothing personal... just a map... that's sort of a chart of the land. See, these marks here show the forest we were walking by before, and that line there shows the river by The Falcon's Wing. Right now, I think we're about here." She indicated a spot on the map just a few inches from a dot showing the capital- where the Trader's Day was to be held.

"A map," said Griffin in wonder. He had never seen one before that hadn't very clearly been homemade on a piece of bark in thirty seconds by one of the other village boys. "Where'd you get it?" he asked, still rather in awe. Birle looked sharply at him.

"That," she told him firmly, "is personal." Neither mentioned the map again, though Birle continued to look at it from time to time.

A few hours later, Griffin noticed that the sun was starting to set. Looking over at Birle, he said carefully, "We should find a place to stay for the night. Maybe by some trees, in case it rains..." Birle, whose sharpness had long since vanished, smiled slightly as she looked over at him.

"Don't be silly. I brought some money with me just for this purpose; do you think The Falcon's Wing is the only inn in the Kingdom? I know just where we're going to stay." For a moment, Birle hesitated, but then she went on. "It's not quite as nice as our own inn... but it'll be better than staying outside, and we'll have a roof over our heads a least." Griffin looked over at her in surprise.

"You'd be willing to pay for me to stay overnight at an inn?"

"It wouldn't cost me any more than it would be to stay overnight by myself. The only difference is that I'll have to request a room with two beds."

Griffin was silent for a moment. Then, "Thank you."

"Well, I can't very well just let you freeze out here while I have a bed to sleep in, can I?" Griffin didn't say anything.

What Birle hadn't told him was that the inn she had chosen for them to stay in was a lot worse than 'not quite as nice as our own.' In fact, it was the type of place that one would normally try to avoid... it usually happened to be full of highly questionable people whose way you tried to stay out of. But, Birle argued with herself, it would be cheap, and anything had to be better than the wilderness that was the only other option.

However, Birle could not deny, at least privately, that she had another reason for wanting to stay in such a place. They were getting closer and closer to a place she had long ago promised herself she would never return to, and she had been having uncomfortable memories of meeting countless lords and ladies who seemed to have studied her very closely during their brief meetings. And why shouldn't they have? As far as they had known, she'd been the future Earl's Lady, who would one day help rule their lives.

Birle was afraid that if they went anywhere halfway decent, she might be seen by someone who could recognize her. She had no wish to see Orien again, and thought it would be cruel to possibly give him hope of her coming back. Assuming he still wanted her back.

An hour later, they arrived at the place. Several drunken looking men who had probably been thrown out by the rough looking guards near the doors were standing around about fifteen feet from the entrance. Birle noticed with distaste that one of them had passed out, and was lying ignored in an ugly looking heap, a broken flask of whiskey beside him.

They approached the inn, and several of the remaining conscious men turned to sneer at them. More at her, actually.

"Hey thah, girlie," said one, his speech slurred as he staggered towards them. "Watcha—watcha doin' tanite?" This was met with raucous laughter from the other men. One hit the speaker approvingly on the shoulder, causing him to collapse. He did not get up again.

Maybe staying here wasn't such a good idea after all, thought Birle worriedly... but they were already there. They might as well stay. Those men were all too drunk to be able to do anything anyway.

Griffin looked about nervously; if he hadn't been looking straight at it, he would never have believed that such a place could possibly exist. Back in the village, no one would have stood for it. It wouldn't have lasted ten minutes.

Nevertheless, when Birle walked by the guards, Griffin followed her. Now he thought he knew why she was willing to pay for him to stay here... he certainly wasn't about to let Lyss's ma stay in a place like this by herself.

Birle rented their room from a greasy looking man with very rotten teeth. "There ya go," he said, leering at her as he handed over a rusty key.

"Thank—thank you," said Birle, trying hard not to gag. She was seriously starting to wish she'd agreed when Griffin had suggested they sleep under the trees. Every single person she'd seen there was dirty, smelly, profane, and either drunk or working hard to get there. She turned to Griffin, about to suggest they go up to their room so as to escape to some relative peace, when loud shout suddenly emanated from the outside.

"Wha's tha' now?" muttered a man Birle presumed to be the owner because he remained sober and wasn't waiting on anybody. He moved outside, and Birle could hear him arguing loudly with someone outside. She moved so she could see what was going on, Griffin following closely behind her. Birle gasped when she saw what going on. Of all the times to decide to try and keep the peace... a troop of the Earl's guards were outside. Orien's guards. They were telling the owner of this disgusting place that it was out of control; that he had to do something within one week to fix it or they would shut him down for disturbing the peace and corrupting the area. This seemed to outrage the man.

"Whaddya mean, I gotta fix it? Fix wha'? This plac's fine, I tell ya. Yawl can't tell the likes o' me wha' ta do. Do ya no 'oo I am? I owns this 'ere place! And I'm agonna do wha' I want wi' it, ya 'ere! Now, geroff my prop'ty!" The guards, however, did not seem ready to go just yet. They argued some more, and then the owner pulled out a pistol and pointed it at who appeared to be leading the guards. "I b'liev I told yawl ta scat." he said dangerously. The guards looked at him like he was possibly the dumbest man they'd ever seen.

"You can't be serious, man. You're clearly outnumbered, and my men are sober. Put that away."

"Geroff my prop'ty."

"No."

"Awrite, then, if tha's how ya wan' it." With those words, he lifted the pistol slightly higher and shot. Luckily for them, he wasn't a very good shot; but he still hit the guard's hat. It fell to the ground as the drunken men surrounding the inn all let out a roar and charged at the soldiers, fighting for all they were worth. They didn't appear to be worth much.

The brawl didn't last long. As the leader had said, the drunks were vastly outnumbered and, obviously, drunk. Soon, every man out there was being held by one to three men, depending on how strong he was and how much he had drunk. The leader, whose name was Calcov, stood up and glared around at them all.

"This establishment is a disgrace to our entire Kingdom! I am ashamed that it was allowed to exist for so long. I am officially closing it down, and placing both its staff and all patrons under arrest. You shall all face the Earl's justice!" He turned back to retrieve his horse, and all guards not already holding drunken men surged into the inn, grabbing anyone they saw and dragging them back outside.

A frighteningly strong man caught Griffin and twisted his arm up behind him even as he tried to protest, and swiftly shoved him out the door. At the same time, a second guard seized Birle slightly more gently and told her to get moving. Stumbling outside, both Griffin and Birle's hands were bound behind their backs before they were pushed into a line with the other prisoners. This wasn't good...

Ha! Another cliff-hanger. I know, I'm evil that way . Anyway, hope you liked it, and please review!