The air was rancid, tasting of dirt and ale. A hundred men had left their sweat and their coins in the palms of the bartender, willing to give up their realities for the deeper abyss that awaited them. Octras, exhausted from his journey, sat on a stool near the door. He could feel the fresh scrapes across his right side and the blisters on his hand. His last pursuit had brought unexpected peril—walking back to the tavern had proven more difficult than he expected. He needed rest and a warm bath. He turned in his seat to scan the room, searching for his current employer. Everything in the tavern was orange from the dim chandelier, but the man Octras was looking for was still easy to find.

He stood and stretched, his sore legs shaking from the effort. Octras steadied himself and ducked under the chandelier as he passed. His employer wore a drunk smile as he reached for the small sack Octras had brought with him.

Octras pulled away from the man's reach and said, "Money first."

"Very well." The man held out a few black coins.

Closing his fist around the coins, Octras sighed. He'd been shorted again. Too tired to protest, he handed his employer the sack. The man stared into the bag for a second before motioning for Octras to sit.

"So where did you find them?" the man asked.

"I had to chase your thief all the way to the pass," Octras started, "and it was not an easy task. He had light steps and knew how to cover his tracks. Luckily enough, there were goblins headed north and when he got close, he panicked, leaving his trail exposed. He had a camp in the cliffs, hidden up in those caves where all the rockslides are. He was still in his cave when I got there. I warned him that if he didn't return the stolen goods, he would be starting a fight he couldn't win."

The people sitting nearby had all turned to listen, and though he knew many of them would forget the story by morning, it felt good to have an audience. Octras looked around as they all started to ask whether a battle took place.

"So this thief pulled a knife out and threatened me, and we fought," he said, mimicking a fist fight. "He was quick, but clumsy. So he swung around and missed, and finally I just pulled out a sword. My back was to the entrance when he suddenly tackled me. We both tumbled over the edge of the cliff. I managed to get a handhold."

"And what of the thief?" the man asked.

Octras tasted the lie on his tongue as he told them, "He tumbled to his own death."

He rubbed his blisters with his thumb as he remembered what had really happened, but the drunk beasts roared at the victory and offered to buy Octras a drink. He refused their invitation, however, telling them that he was tired. Even if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have had any ale; it was a bitter potion that left him numb and depressed. He walked to the door and turned to wave farewell.

As he spun toward the doorway, someone else tried to come through it. They collided; the woman fell against the wall with a smack. Octras offered his hand and apologized as she struggled to stand on her own. Instead of accepting his help, however, she pushed his palm away and looked past him.

"This was a stupid idea," she said, and backed out into the night.

Curious, Octras followed her. "Excuse me, milady... are you hurt? I didn't mean to hurt you."

The girl ignored him and sat against a tree. Octras asked again if she was all right, though it was apparent that she was not. With her posture alone, the girl was obviously weighed down by a heavy burden.

She looked as if she hadn't noticed him there before. "You—you should watch where you're going."

Something about her voice made Octras feel small. "I apologize. I just wanted to make certain you're not injured, but you seem distressed about something. Maybe I can help you."

"Perhaps. I doubt the likes of you would understand my problem." She looked at him like he was filthy, and it offended him until he remembered that he was. He suddenly wished he had cleaned up before going to the tavern.

"What is it you're looking for?" he asked.

She looked up, scrutinizing his face. She held his gaze for a moment, and Octras felt a buzzing sensation creep through his spine and into his head. He rubbed his neck as he repeated his question.

The girl hesitated. "I'm looking for... a mercenary named Octras. I heard he was headed here."

"You're looking for Octras? Whatever for?"

Her eyes opened wide. "I need a bodyguard to take me to Catarisk. I have important business there."

"And what makes you think this mercenary would take your offer? I hear he's used to working alone."

"Well, he would be, mostly. But he has protected caravans before."

"Yes, I know. He has quite a reputation in the Freelands." Octras was used to protecting things, but not people. This girl looking for him now obviously knew very little about him. She was a girl of the fancy sort; her clothing was expensive—yet it was worn. Something had happened to bring her here on her own.

"Listen, Octras," she said, barely audible.

"Excuse me?"

"You are Octras, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "And if I am?"

"You might change your mind if you listen to my offer."

"Well," he folded his arms, "let's hear it."

"The job is basic. You protect me, keep me safe from those who wish me harm, until we reach Catarisk, and then you're free. I have sixty ketts with me right now, and I can provide more when we get to Crescent."

"Sixty?" It was a huge amount—he'd be able to afford to fix his equipment. "More than sixty?"

"Is… that not enough?"

Octras almost laughed at her concern. The job sounded simple. Keep the girl from dying and make… more than sixty ketts for one trip? It was either a terribly good deal or a con. Octras thought of refusing, but her eyes silenced him. They were a deep jade, beautiful and deadly. Something in them pleaded for his help, and he could not deny them. The feeling frightened him.

"You're in luck. I was headed south soon anyway. Octras of Calvador at your service," he held out his hand. "And you are?"

"Tsira Kyesa of the Freelands." Her hands remained in her lap. "When can you start?"
"Two days from now, I can meet you at the Border Bridge. Does that sound fine?"

"At early rise," she said.

"Then it's a deal."

"Deal," she said, staring at the ground.

He started walking when he heard her call his name, and he called back, "Yes?"

"I didn't say anything," she said. "I'll see you at the bridge."

He shrugged and kept walking. She was still sitting by the tree the last time he looked back.