Martimeos awoke early the next morning, as he tended to when he had much to drink, before the dim light of dawn had done much to relieve the darkness in Elyse's room. The witch still had her arm around him, snoring peacfully and muttering occasionally with her head against his chest; he frowned as he noticed she had been drooling a bit in her sleep. On the other side, Cecil curled around his arm, purring peacefully, his ears twitching occasionally in his sleep, his striped fur serving as a thick, heavy blanket.

Martimeos stared at the ceiling, watching the light from the window slowly bathe the rafters in a golden glow, wondering if sleep would come back to him. When he was sure it would not, he sighed, and then tried to extract himself from the clutches of Elyse and Cecil as delicately as he could. Elyse grumbled sharply as he lifted her arm and slowly slid out of the bed, but did not wake.

He peered around the room in the dim light for a moment, wondering where he could have possibly put his clothes, his memories of the past night too fuzzy to recall such a small detail. Finally, he found them inside the room's dresser, opening it slowly so it would not creak. He brought them to his nose and gagged; they reeked of ale. He didn't know that he wanted to put these on so soon after having a bath. Well, he had spare clothes in his own room.

Quietly, Martimeos opened the door to the hallway, peering up and down to ensure that no one was there, and then dashed across it to his own room before anyone could spot his shame. Once inside, he sighed with relief. He looked up at the sounds of a small chirp; Flit hopped back and forth among the rafters, greeting him. And also telling him that two of the inn's maids had snuck into his room in the late hours of the night looking for him, assuring Martimeos that he would have pecked out their eyes had they tried to touch any of his property.

Martimeos dressed in a fresh pair of clothes quickly, deciding to wear an extra linen shirt beneath his leather tunic as he shivered; these past few weeks in Twin Lamps, winter had truly come on. He drew his black-furred cloak tightly around him, sniffling as he wound his scarlet scarf around his neck. He whispered to his cloak, to warm it with the Art, as further protection against the chill. Tucking his dirtied clothes beneath his arm, he left his room.

The inn's common room was still empty at this hour, the sound of maid's laughter coming through the back door to the kitchen, except for one maid, a woman who looked several years older than he, with wavy brown hair, olive skin, dark brown eyes and an easygoing smile, snow-white skirts twirling around her as she swept the floors. "Ah, good morning, young wizard," she said, eyes lighting up as he approached her. "I did not think to see you so soon; 'twas wonderful singing last night but you certainly seemed besotted by the end of it. Ah, want those washed, do you?" leaning her broom up against a table, she took his dirtied clothes from him, then glancing around conspiratorially, leaned in to whisper. "The younger maids were practically drawing lots for you last night; which did you end up sneaking off with? A word of warning - Madame Ro would not like it if she found out her maids were having fun with the guests."

Martimeos reddened as she grinned at him. "I did not sneak off with any of them," he snapped.

The maid gave him a friendly wink. "Of course. That is just what I shall tell Madame Ro if she asks."

Grumbling, Martimeos sat down at a table as the maid disappeared into the kitchens with his clothes. Soon enough she returned, with a plate of steaming sausages and a generous hunk of bread. Martimeos asked her if he might have an extra plate of those.

It was not long before Elyse came stumbling down the stairs, blinking blearily against the light; he did not think she had drunk that much wine the night before, but she certainly seemed to be feeling the effects of it this morning. Her eyes lit up as she sat down across from him, though, and her hand darted towards his plate for one of his sausages. But Martimeos caught it before it reached his food. "This one is yours," he said, sliding the second plate he had asked for in front of her.

"Ah." Elyse set about wolfing down her breakfast, ignoring the utensils, as was her way. As they ate, they talked a bit about what they would like to study in the Art next; Martimeos had been avoiding it thus far, since it was a complicated, time-consuming subject, and he had wanted to learn more about glamour, but he was beginning to want to take lessons on healing with the Art.

Elyse seemed distracted, though, as the conversation wore on, and eventually once she had finished her meal, she pushed her plate away from her and folded her hands before her mouth, peering at Martimeos over them. "Martim," she said quietly, "Tell me, what do you remember of last night...?"

"I remember accidentally going into your room for a bath, if that's what you mean," he muttered, wiping his mouth with a rough cloth napkin. "Why?"

"After that, though?"

He frowned, trying to bring back blurry memories. "We...talked..." He blushed, his eyes widening. "I...uh, did not do anything...forward, did I? I can become, uh, affectionate, when I have had drink in me." He did not think he remembered anything like that - he thought he remembered Elyse dragging him to her bed to use him as a pillow and then falling asleep shortly after.

"I will have to remember that," Elyse replied, "But no. I mean specifically, you told me of how you received the scar on your back. Do you remember that conversation?"

Martimeos grew quiet, as Elyse simply stared at him with those dark, mysterious blue eyes. "I do," he said. "What about it?"

"Do you remember...that while recounting the story, you told me that the dark rider was among the men that attacked your village?"

Martimeos closed his eyes. Vague, slippery memories of last night's conversatione echoed to him through the mists of his mind. "Yes," he replied, opening them. "I think I remember that. I was - well, I was drunk. I-"

"Are you sure?" Elyse interrupted him. Her voice had gone quiet, serious. "You are sober now. I know it is a bad memory, but think back to it. Do you still see the dark rider there...?"

Martimeos was going to reply, but Elyse looked...concerned, troubled. Reluctantly, he cast his mind back to the memory of the day he had been struck down, replaying the events over in his head. Curiously, although his head was much clearer this morning than it had been last night, he could still see the dark rider there in his mind, riding among the men that had burnt and pillaged his village. In fact, it seemed like he could almost remember the dark rider more clearly than anything else that day. He could see, in vivid detail, the fluttering of its cloak as it rode, the black ribbons streaming from its horns.

He grew very, very quiet and still. "I do," he said softly. He lifted his eyes froom the table to meet Elyse's; they were unreadable. "Though...I am still certain I had not seen him there. How did you know...?"

"I did not," Elyse murmured. "Though I wondered. I had the same experience, the day after we arrived here - I found the rider in a memory where I knew he should not be. I thought perhaps I had been dreaming, but there he stayed, no matter how many times I ran my mind over it. But the mind is a funny thing, and memory funnier still; I thought that perhaps my mind had simply confused the fear I felt for the rider with....with the fear I felt in my memory. But now you remember him, too."

They were both quiet for a long time, contemplating this. Other guests began to drift downstairs, waving brightly at Martimeos as they recognized him from last night, but he could feel no cheer from that. Their smiling, friendly faces seemed, for some reason, full of deceit and ill intent, to him.

"Perhaps....'tis merely just as you said," Martimeos muttered after a while. "Both our minds, confusing the fear from the journey into town with other fear we have felt. It was...harrowing, on our way into town. And 'twas also a fearful memory for me in which he appeared."

"Perhaps," Elyse replied softly. Her eyes turned to him; she was paler than usual, and Martimeos realized she was afraid. "Or...perhaps we had forgotten him. Perhaps we both had seen him before we made our way to Silverfish. Martim, he's so clear there in my memory. The more I think about it, the less certain I am that he should not be there. My mother spoke with Outsiders...perhaps he was there, lurking about my swamp, and the terror of him pushed him out of my mind...? It...it seems bizarre, but the more I think of it-"

Martimeos reached out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. "No, no - I am certain," he told her. "If a rider like that had been among the raid on my village - I would have remembered my folk commenting on it in the aftermath. The horror of the thing, and knowing it is out there still - seeing its bloody work - it is less strange that the burden of this might have given us both false memories than the idea that we may have both seen the rider before and simply forgotten."

Elyse smiled uncertainly at him, and gave his hand a squeeze back. But as he returned her smile, his mind ran over the memory of that day, and he wondered.

They lingered a while in the inn's common room, quieter than before, trying to put the thought out of their minds. They distracted themselves with talk of the Art; Elyse explaining to Martimeos what it was to heal as he puffed on his pipe. He mentioned to Elyse that today he planned to ask around a bit more to see if anyone might recognize his brother's dagger; she replied that this time she would accompany him - she had already read through her new book of adventure tales twice and wanted to see if she might find another one.

As the room filled with more of the morning's guests, and maids came out to serve them, Martimeos could not help but notice a few of them stealing glances at him; the gathered in the corners where they thought he was not looking, talking and giggling amongst themselves. He sighed, watching this.

"Planning to seduce you, no doubt." He glanced towards Elyse, who was idly toying with the crumbs on her plate, her gaze following his eyes to glance at the maids. "You should have heard the way some of them talked last night after you made your way upstairs. The conversation got quite...explicit."

"I wish they'd hold the gossip. Apparently, some of them think I've already snuck off with one of them to squeeze," Martimeos muttered in reply. "And Flit told me two actually had the audacity to sneak into my room last night."

Elyse laughed, her eyes flashing. She gave him a wicked grin. "I can put an end to that, if you'd like."

Martimeos was about to ask her what she meant when Madame Ro made her entrance into the inn's common room, descending down the stairs in a silk dress - dark blue this time - that had the pattern of stars woven into it, her dark hair done up with so many ribbons matching the dress that it seemed she had more ribbon than hair. As she spotted him, her dark face split into a broad smile. "Ah, my favorite guests," she trilled as she approached them, patting her hair. "Not just a wizard, but a beautiful singer as well - though perhaps I should be careful, before you charm my guests out of all the coin they should be giving me!" She laughed, but there seemed an actual undercurrent of irritation to it. But then it disappeared, as she smiled beatifically. "But I suppose either way, it will be my coin soon enough."

"Speaking of that coin," Martimeos said, as the scent of her perfume washed over him - Madame Ro applied it liberally, though not so much that it was overwhelming - "Where is it?"

"Kells gathered it up, my dear - he took it to the barracks with him, I believe, to ensure no one would steal it; the guards each have a safe locked box. I think he's on patrol, but do not worry, he's a trustworthy lad - nowadays, at least! I'm sure he'll be back with it tonight. " Madame Ro glanced down at the table they sat at, blinking at their empty plates. She grabbed a passing maid, a young girl with blonde braided twintails, her hands already full of dishes. "You, girl! Look, their plates are clearly empty. Gather them up." Madame Ro eyed the maid as the girl sighed, struggling to set down her dishes so that she might pick up Martimeos and Elyse's plates. Turning back to Martimeos, her expression turned stern, but still friendly. "You know, many of my maids have become smitten with you. They think I do not have ears, but I do; I heard them making plans to jump into your bed. I do not know what happened last night; I can tolerate one night of passion, but do not make a habit of it - I do not want my guests thinking these girls are here for-"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Elyse said idly, examining her fingernails, a faint blush on her cheeks. "Martim spent last night with me."

Madame Ro blinked at her, then glanced sharply at the maid gathering up their plates as the girl coughed and dropped Martim's plate on the top of her pile with a loud clatter. The maid pretended it was an accident, but Martimeos could see her staring at Elyse and paying close attention to what she said. "Oh, well," Madame Ro smiled. "I had wondered - well. Guests are, of course, free to do what they like! If the girls bother you, I can speak with them."

"I cannot say they have bothered me." Elyse gave her wide-brimmed hat a tap, staring directly at the maid. "I think your girls would be smart enough not to tangle with the affairs of a witch." The maid's mouth dropped open, eyes wide with shock, and she scurried away quickly with their dishes.

"I should hope so," Madame Ro replied, watching the girl go. "Well! I am glad you are here to keep him out of trouble." She winked at Martimeos. "Though I'm sure our young wizard here is wise enough not to earn a witch's scorn as well." Stepping away, she laughed loudly and falsely at the attentions of another guest, leaving them as she crossed the room to speak with more of her patrons.

"There we go!" Elyse smiled happily, patting Martimeos' arm. "No more gossip, or maids sneaking to your room."

He snorted, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. "Aye. That's one way to handle it. Though I think the maids will be blaming any bad fortune or illness they get on you, now."

Elyse shrugged, then rose, stretching. "Ah, well. You wanted to ask around about your brother's dagger, did you not? Enough sitting and talking, I think."

They made their way into the streets of Twin Lamps. With the beginning of winter having arrived over their time here, snow had not been an infrequent sight; the roofs of the buildings they walked by now were covered in white blankets that dripped down into long icicles as they melted during the day. Martimeos couldn't help but wonder how the farmers that could not find shelter were handling this. The streets were just as crowded as always, enough so that any snow in the cobbled streets was quickly turned to a dirty slush. There seemed to be less farmfolk in the crowds now - Kells had said that Bartuk had forced the wealthy merchants who owned the mansions to open their doors to sheltering them. But Martimeos had seen the farmfolk that did remain in the streets grow angrier and angrier as time wore on. Now they glared with outright rage at the townsfolk who passed them by; they jostled drunkenly with the guard. He saw one old farmer screaming in a guard's face - to the guard's credit, he seemed to be doing his best to keep the situation calm, nodding along sympathetically with the man. Anger like that, Martimeos thought, was going to lead to trouble.

But he turned his attention away from the farmfolk; the politics of Twin Lamps were not his concern. Instead, he led Elyse down the stone warrens of Twin Lamp's streets, holding the hilt of his brother's dagger in his hands, wondering where to ask next. While Elyse had become a bit more familiar with the town, during the time Kells had taken to show both of them around, she was still somewhat uncomfortable among the crowds and the close-built buildings, still found navigation somewhat confusing, and so stuck close by Martimeos. He spared her a glance, as well, as she strolled beside him, looking about as they made their way through the crowd, long dark hair tied loosely in a blue ribbon. He wondered just how hot-blooded Elyse was. She still wore the same robes she always did, dark and layered in tatters - he wouldn't say they were revealing, exactly, but they were thin, and seemed more suitable for spring wear, or even summer - definitely not winter. And he still caught glimpses of her bare legs flashing beneath the layers of tatters as she walked. How did she stand the chill like that?

There were precious few places left he could think to ask about the dagger, so they stopped at a bookstore first, where Elyse purchased no less than three press-printed books with what share of the money she had left from Silverfish - though she barely seemed to pay attention to what part of that money was her share, to be honest; he did not think she had much of a conception of money. She certainly never asked to hold on to her half herself. As she clutched them beneath her arm, he wondered just who she thought would be carrying those books for her on the road.

Martimeos tried to think - if his brother had come to Twin Lamps, where might he have gone? If he had come here - how, and why? It was something he had thought over since his arrival in Twin Lamps a good deal. His brother had abandoned his post on the front against the Queen's forces, gone southwards to Silverfish, and from there traveled west. Twin Lamps lay on the most obvious route westwards from Silverfish, and it seemed reasonable that he may have traveled to the town, if he had come this way. But it had been under the rule of the Queen at the time. The idea that his brother had turned traitor and joined with the Queen's forces taunted him in the back of his mind, but he could not bring himself to believe that was what had happened. But if he had not turned traitor, perhaps he had gone around the town entirely, or entered it under false pretenses - he had so little to go on, only knowing that his brother had turned west.

He thought that if his brother had entered Twin Lamps, he had certainly done so under disguise, or otherwise hidden himself - his brother would have stuck out in a crowd. And while his mind would not tolerate the thought of his brother turning traitor, he did consider the possibility that he may have been killed by the patrols of the Queen's forces around Twin Lamps. He had been cautious in questioning the guard about it - he did not want to reveal that he was the brother of a man who may well have done violence agaisnt the town and its troops, even so long ago. But in idle conversation, guards had only said they could remember nothing extraordinary about those years - the occasional patrol lost to banditry, perhaps. And nothing of a wizard bandit.

The most unusual thing any of them could recall was one of the watchtowers along the road east being lost to a spectacular fire, which they had never discovered the cause of - some said that a store of lamp oil in the tower's cellar had caught. And of slain bandits, none remembered one that was a wizard - or that held a blade with the stag-head crest. Though, Martimeos thought ruefully, even if they had seen the crest, it may well have been so long ago that none of them remembered clearly. He had considered asking Roark if he might somehow gain access to some archive of patrol reports, should it exist - Twin Lamps seemed to document them, clearly - but he thought that rifling through years of reports might prove even more time-consuming and less fruitfful than merely asking for rumor, and he did not want the captain becoming suspicious of what he was looking for.

With little from the guard to go on, he was reduced to speculating where his brother may have gone in town, had he ever actually entered it. And he was running out of places to check, there. He entered curio shops, full of oddities from lands far west - strange ornate silver boxes, sculptures of birds forged delicately from metal, collections of colorful shells taken from the sea. Cobblers and shoemakers, important for someone who had to travel far by foot - though he did not know, perhaps his brother had had a horse when he came here? He had so little to go on. He even tried tailor shops, though he did not think his brother would have bothered with the fancy clothes available there. Everywhere, he was met with blank stares; just as every other time he had asked. It felt hopeless - even if his brother had been here, who would have remembered his crest after all these years? As he led them from shop to shop, the day wore on, the sun dropped in the sky, and he began to feel more and more hopeless.

It was as he was leaving one of the tailor shops, dejected, puzzling over the dagger held in his hands, that Elyse, who had waited for him outside, pulled him aside. He glanced up at her curiously, as she led him over near an alley full of large barrels collecting water, positioning herself so his back was to the alley. "Martimeos," she said, her tone serious, "Stay looking at me. Someone is following us."

"What?" he said, his eyes darting over her shoulder. He yelped as she pinched him discretely, her dark eyes filling his vision again as he glanced back at her.

"What did I say?" she shook her head, frowning at him as she slung her books tighter beneath her arm.

Martimeos resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and into the crowd in the street. He tried to school his face to pretend he was simply in casual conversation with her. "Are you certain...?" he asked.

"Yes, absolutely certain. Since the moment we left the inn, I think. I kept noticing the same woman - she looks a little unusual. I thought it a coincidence at first, but you have led us on far too strange a route for her to be about innocent business. You haven't noticed yourself being followed while out on the town before, have you?"

"I cannot say that I have," he muttered, leaning casually against the alley wall with one arm, so that he might be able to watch more of the street out of the corner of his eye as he talked. "Though I have not been on the lookout. What does she look like?"

"By the benches. Yellow jacket, larget bonnet."

The tailor shop stood at the corner of a intersection, where the cobbled streets ran together into a small circular plaza, running around a small patch of bare dirt in the center, where a stone table and two benches were placed. Martimeos glanced discretely up and across the plaza, peering over the shoulders of the folk walking the streets. There, on one of the benches in the plaza, perhaps thirty feet from where they stood, was a woman. She was dressed as the women of Twin Lamps did, in long black skirts and boots, with a jacket that reached down to her wrists dyed a bright yellow. A green scarf was wrapped around the lower half of her face. What stuck out was her bonnet, black but larger than most, tied tightly around her chin. It was hard to tell who she might be - between her clothes and her bonnet, Martimeos could only make out the upper half of her face, and nothing stood out there. He glanced back towards Elyse quickly before she looked in his direction. "I see her," he said casually. "Do you have an idea who she might be?"

Elyse shook her head. "I wonder, if we were to split up, which of us she would follow."

"I don't know if that is a good idea," Martimeos replied. "For all we know, she might practice the Art. She might just be watching, or she might be waiting for a chance to strike."

Elyse nodded, biting her thumb as she shifted her books again to prevent them from slipping. "What do you think we should do?"

Martimeos sighed, staring down at the hilt of the dagger in his hands. His brother's stag-head crest stared back at him, a silhouette of sharp, curving horns. "I have nowhere else I can think to ask about this," he muttered. "Perhaps best for now to head back to the White Queen."

Elyse nodded, and they set off on their path, doing their best not to glance behind themselves as they walked down the streets. Other townfolk passed them by as they walked, and Martimeos could not help but peer at them, wondering if they had followed him at one point too. Who was this woman...? He could think of no reason why someone might be following him in Twin Lamps; other than that perhaps the town was not so friendly to those who practiced the Art as it claimed. "I wish we had a way of keeping an eye out behind us," he muttered. "If only I'd not let Flit stay warm in the inn."

"I think I have an idea for that," Elyse said quietly. And then a moment later, she went sprawling on the street, passing townfolk quickly stepping around her as she fell, though she kept quick hold on her books. "Ah!" she cried, leaning forward to grab her foot and hissing. "Martimeos! I've sprained my ankle. I fear I cannot walk - you shall have to carry me." She winked at him.

Martimeos grumbled as he scooped her up in his arms, hoisting her up before him. "Your idea is to have me carry you all the way back?" he snapped quietly at her. He glanced around as some of the passing townfolk gave them odd looks.

"You are a strong man, are you not? And now I can look back behind us as we go."

Small and light Elyse might have been, but it was still no small task to carry her through the streets. Martimeos was broad-shouldered and strong, but not especially so, and while it was no problem at first his arms began to tire after a while. If he could have hoisted her over his shoulder, that would have made things easier, but Elyse said that she did not want to be carried in a position that would leave her staring straight backward - that might scare off their follower, and she wanted to see if they would follow all the way back to the White Queen. So she lay in his arms, with her legs dangling over his left arm and her back in the crook of his right, occasionally stealing glances back behind them as Martimeos walked as quickly as he could back toward the inn. "She follows still," she'd report every time she did.

"Anything else about her...?"

"I...I don't know. She seems to be alone." Elyse paused. "She looks fierce. A hard stare."

Martimeos took the shortest route back to the inn he could think of, but even still by the time they reached the street the sun had dropped low in the sky as the evening set on. He was sweating despite the chill, hot now in his extra layers and scarf, and his arms burned with the strain. The crowds had thinned out by now, though he still got odd looks from townfolk as they passed him by. It was not until he had reached the steps of the White Queen inn that Elyse spoke up. "Finally - she leaves. She really followed us all the way to the inn." She leapt nimbly from his arms as he shouldered open the door, looking him up and down with approval. "I am impressed, Martim; I did not think you would be able to carry me all the way. I thought you might be too proud to ask to set me down, though."

Martimeos muttered, shaking out his arms, scowling at her, and she just laughed mockingly, a faint blush on her cheeks.

They took a seat at a table by the fireplace in the common room, taking advantage of the warmth. It was still a little early for dinner - the common room of the inn had just a few guests sitting at the tables, mostly the merchants who had decided to remain so they might ply their wares east once the road could be made safe once more.

Though it was early, a maid brought them out a meal nevertheless; fatty pork and potato. Martimeos was glad for it. Carrying Elyse all the way back had ignited his appetite. Though he found himself less hungry than he might have been. The idea of someone following him throughout town disturbed him - had they been following him before today? Between bites, the two of them talked about who it might have been that had followed them, and why - but beyond the simple idea that they might have been followed because they were known to practice the Art, they had no idea.

The shadows dancing from the crackling fire in the fireplace seemed darker, the guests that filled the common room more suspicious. They had felt safe inside Twin Lamp's thick walls, but now...the shared memory of the rider, the woman following them about town - it left a knot of dread in their stomachs. And Martimeos was at the end of his rope - he had headed west, under the direction of the Dolmec, but found no trace whatsoever of his brother in Twin Lamps. He did not know what to do.

They had not been eating long when, with a jingle from the bell at the doorway, Kells strode in, wearing the smart black jacket he wore when off-duty, his gray eyes lighting up as he spotted them. "Hoi, you two," he said, grinning, striding over to them; from one of the pockets of his flared pants he drew a jangling bag of coin, which he plopped down on the table as he sat next to Elyse, across from Martimeos. "The take from last night, Martim - more coin than I had bargained for, certainly. You could make a living with that voice of yours."

"You ought to take some for yourself," Martimeos replied. "You played the fiddle finely, too."

"I think we both know 'twas your singing that loosened people's grip on their coin," Kells grinned, "but if you insist; you can pay for my drinks tonight." He waved to a waitress, crying for a tankard of ale. When he looked back, he glanced between the two of them, frowning at their quiet demeanour. "I had thought you might be more glad to see how much coin you'd made. Is there something wrong?"

Martimeos sighed as he opened the bag of coin, looking at the glimmering treasure within. "No, it is a fine amount of coin. It should be able to keep us here for some time. It is just that no matter how much coin, it will run out eventually, and I don't know where to go next. And today we were followed."

"Followed?" Kells asked curiously. "By who?" He sat and listened to their tale, downing his tankard quickly when the maid brought it to him and asking for another, nodding as they continued on. When they were finished, he shrugged. "I can ask the guard to keep an eye out - perhaps if they spot her stalking you for a few days in a row, even ask them to make an arrest. Mayhap it really is just someone with a grudge against the Art and those who practice it. But it could just be someone a bit funny. You see strange things as a guard."

"Aye, perhaps," Martimeos replied, still a bit sullen.

"But what is this about not knowing where to go next? Are you planning on leaving sometime soon?" Kells looked a bit disappointed as he took a sip from his second tankard.

Martimeos considered Kells for a moment. He had not actually ever told the soldier why they had come to Twin Lamps in the first place, and Kells had not pressed the issue after the first time Martimeos had dodged the question. He had been reluctant to do so - he did not want Roark and Kells piecing together that he was looking for someone who possibly may have done violence against their men, years ago. And part of it was Martimeos' normal desire for secrecy, too - nobody but Elyse really knew what he was looking for. But he liked Kells - he was a cheerful fellow, and seemed like the trustworthy sort. He did not think the soldier would hold a grudge against him for the way his brother may have acted during war years ago - Kells would have been a child then, after all. And, he supposed, he could let on a bit more without telling Kells exactly who he was looking for. "Well," he said, "We had never planned to stay in Twin Lamps for long. We came here following the path of a man-"

"His brother," Elyse interjected. Martimeos frowned at her, and she gave a small laugh. "You should feel lucky. I saved Martim's life and he still did not tell me that was what he was looking for until...something...let the cat out of the bag for him. He doesn't just sing like a fae, he keeps secrets like one too."

Well, Martimeos thought, all in now. He coughed, pressing on. "Yes. My brother."

"What does he look like?" Kells asked. "I could-"

"He would not be here now, I think - he would have passed on years ago. He would be easy to find were he still here. Truth be told, I don't even actually know if he ever came to Twin Lamps. I just know he traveled west."

Kells whistled, settling back in his chair, crossing his arms, his bright gray eyes looking down at the table as he frowned. "Sounds difficult. How do you plan to find his trail, just knowing that he went west?"

"Well, I do have one thing to go on," Martimeos replied. He reached into his pocket, tossing the hilt of the dagger onto the table, where it clattered and stopped directly in front of the soldier. "That is his crest on the pommel. I...Kells?"

Kells was staring at the hilt of the dagger, eyes wide with shock, shaking. He ran a hand through his short dark hair, roughling it, then quickly downed the rest of his tankard, never taking his eyes off the crest on the pommel. "Black hells," he whispered quietly to himself, his hands still shaking. "Black hells." He shook his head, his mouth a thin grim line.

Elyse and Martimeos glanced at each other, concerned. "Kells," Martimeos asked, leaning forward. "Have you seen this crest before...?"

Kells was silent for a long moment, simply staring at the hilt on the table in front of him. "Aye," he said finally, his voice low and quiet. "I have." He raised his eyes to meet Martimeos'. "It marked the sword of the man who killed my father."