The room's darkness was only surpassed by the night sky looming outside the tall, slit-like windows. Those same windows commanded a view of the frightened city below. A heavy coldness permeated the room, as if the air were made of the same lifeless stone as the walls and floor. The room, narrow and long, stretched before them like the Devil's Throat on Haladras. At the end of the room, in front of the windows, sitting behind an enormous ebony desk, was a man who reminded Skylar of a desert weasel.

The man looked up from his desk to scrutinize the captive with his beady eyes, which were set between a nose so long and pointed it might have served for a weapon.

"What is it, Sergeant?" said the man with a voice full of impatience.

"This is the captive, Lord Governor," answered the officer, sounding so humble that it made Skylar smile. "You requested we bring him to you."

"Let him come forward, then."

The sergeant motioned with his hand, and the guards on either side of Grim roughly hurried him to the governor's desk. They planted him just in front of the desk before retreating to the sides of the room.

The governor studied Grim for a few moments before asking, "What is your name?"

"I am called Grim," came the proud reply.

"Grim. That is all? Only Grim?" The governor's voice bore an edge of mockery.

"Grim Galloway, if it pleases you, Governor." Grim's voice was neither harsh nor kind, but perfectly matter-of-fact, as though he spoke to no one of any importance.

"It does not please me," was the governor's sour response. "You have entered my city with the appearance of a vagrant. Yet you carry a noble blade of steel. A knight's blade, if I'm not mistaken. From whom did you steal it?"

Grim stood tall and erect, with all the dignity of a king. And when he spoke, his words were the clear incontestable words of truth. "It is none but my own. Given me by King Athylian himself."

The mention of Athylian's name seemed to hit the governor in the chest. He rocked back in his chair.

"Athylian!" he cried. "How can that be? I demand that you tell me your true name."

"I have had other names in the past. But I claim them no longer. Grim is my name."

"Impudence!" squealed the governor, rising from his chair glaring at Grim with a menacing scowl. "You shall―"

There was a sudden stirring from a corner of the room at the governor's side. He paused in mid-sentence and turned his head in that direction. The deep shadow that obscured the corner seemed to be moving, growing, until it was standing next to the governor. The governor whispered something to it and the thing hissed back. It was then that Skylar realized that the shadow was actually a man―or something like man. There was insufficient light to tell. It wore a dark hooded cloak and its face was but a tiny abyss of blackness.

Whatever it was, the governor paled and cowered under its shadow. Despite his evident discomfort with the strange being, the governor managed to maintain a semblance of composure, nodding obsequiously to some secret instruction.

Then the shadow withdrew back into its corner and the shaken governor, mopping his bald head with a handkerchief, returned his attention to Grim.

"I have reconsidered the matter," he said. "Maintain your anonymity, if that is your wish. You are free to go, but I warn you not to tarry in my city. My guards shall put your sword back in your possession and see you to the gates of the citadel. Sergeant."

He flicked his hand, like a man shooing a fly. In response, the sergeant pointed to one of the guards.

"See the prisoner to the gates."

Grim was roughly escorted out of the room, while Skylar remained behind, unable to leave without dismissal. As he wondered how he was going to extricate himself from this unexpected turn of events, a voice like the sound of air freezing faintly disturbed the silence.

"Follow him," it hissed.

A moment later, two other shadows emerged from the opposite corner, floated across the room, and vanished through the door.

* * *

He must warn Grim. Whoever―or whatever―those things were, they made Skylar's stomach form a knot just to think of them lurking close behind Grim. But where had he gone? How long Skylar had to stand guard in the governor's office, he did not know. Hours. The surly sergeant had finally had enough and sent Skylar back to the barracks.

Once outside the citadel, and out of sight of the guards at the gate, Skylar turned down a side street and backtracked to where he had deposited his clothes. He soon found the alleyway, but saw no sign of the soldiers he'd left passed out in the street. Skylar smiled to himself as he thought about the soldier explaining to his superior why his suit was missing.

Quickly, Skylar shed the heavy armor and dumped it behind a metal bin in the alley. Perhaps the soldier would come back to look for it in the morning. Then he donned his clothes, wrapped his cloak around his body, and set off toward the city gates.

The full weight of exhaustion from lack of sleep bore down on him as he walked. If he hadn't felt such an urgent need to find Grim, he would have fallen asleep on the street.

He knew nowhere else to go but back. If Grim were still within the city walls, he had no way to know where. He might hunt for days. And what of the two shadows stalking Grim? Skylar shivered at the thought, and increased his stride. He simply must find Grim.

For all his desire, though, he struggled to keep up a strong pace. He had not slept since the night before their encounter with the Mauwik. How long ago that seemed.

Footfall sounded on the street behind him. Skylar's senses quickened at the sound. Another soldier? The footfall was too light. Who then? The black shadows? Not wanting to find out, he turned down a side street and disappeared into the shadows. A voice made him hesitate.

"Sir...Sir," it called out as loud as it dared. It was almost the voice of a child.

Whirling around, Skylar found a small figure running up to him, arm upraised, waving. As the figure came closer, Skylar saw that it was a boy, several years younger than himself. He was breathing heavily, but spoke as quickly as he could.

"Please, Sir," he said in a mere whisper. "I'm to have you follow me."

"Follow you? Who are you? Who gave you instructions to fetch me?"

"Please, Sir," pleaded the boy, as though his life depended on Skylar, "you must come. He who bid me fetch you says that you are looking for him."

Grim? Skylar considered the possibility, then warily said, "Take me to him."

The boy led Skylar through such a maze of streets and alleyways that he began to grow suspicious. Where was this little urchin taking him? And why the circuitous route? After a dizzying number of turns, Skylar felt certain they were merely tracing circles around the city.

"Where is this man of yours?" asked Skylar at last. But the boy only replied, "Please, Sir," and motioned for him to keep following.

Finally the boy stopped at an alleyway door. He gently tapped on the door several times. After several seconds, the door creaked open. No light spilled out into the alley. Only a subtle difference between shades of blackness indicated the door was open. A large figure loomed before them.

"Well done," whispered the man in the doorway as he motioned them inside.

"Please, Sir," said the boy. "Inside, here..."

Skylar was beginning to feel the boy didn't know how to say anything else. He took a deep breath, as if about to dive under water, and stepped inside.

A scent of rotten apples, cooked onions, and old potatoes all mingled into a stagnant air touched his nose. Behind him, the door creaked softly closed. The large shadow which had stood in the portal clattered about in the darkness, muttering something under his breath.

"Here it be," came a deep voice.

A sudden glow of light flickered to life just in front of him. Where the large shadow had been, a ruddy-faced man with the stature of a bear now stood holding a phosphorescent lantern. The man beamed down at Skylar with a broad smile and eyes brighter than the thin lantern light. A grease-stained apron covered his chest and protruding belly, and his sleeves where rolled up to his dimpled elbows.

"This is a capital day," said the bear. "I never thought my eyes should look upon this visage."

The man stretched out his arms. And Skylar feared the man would swallow him with a hug. Instead, he let his arms fall to his sides and his smile departed.

"The time for celebration is not yet come," he said with considerable gravity. "Evil lurks at the doorstep as we speak. Come, your companion awaits you."

The man motioned with the lantern for Skylar to follow. They passed through a cramped scullery, brimming all over with tottering piles of pots and pans, soup bowls and mugs; then a dingy kitchen, likewise strewn with cookware. A large crock roasted over a small cook fire at the opposite end. From the sputtering crock drifted the aroma of a stew that set Skylar's mouth watering. They walked out of the kitchen and into a dining hall, furnished with scattered tables and chairs. A meager fire blazed in a fireplace. Yet despite its size, Skylar felt warmer at the mere sight of it.

"This way, young master," said his large guide.

They mounted a narrow stone stairwell running along the wall and which led them to a sort of mezzanine. Several rows of private booths lined the walls. His guide showed him to one toward the rear. He pulled back the curtain for Skylar to enter. Skylar halted, he caught his breath. Inside sat a dark figure.

"Grim!" he shouted in relief. "How did you―"

Grim held up a finger for him to be quiet.

"Not so loud, my prince," spoke Grim softly. "We are not as safe as it may seem."

Skylar sat down opposite from Grim and the guide pulled the booth's curtain closed. Only a short tallow candle illuminated the interior of the booth. It provided sufficient light to see Grim's face-composed as ever.

"Grim," said Skylar as hushed yet earnestly as he could, "there are two men―two things―following you. I don't know where they are, but I saw them leave the governor's office."

"I know," replied Grim. "That's why I could not come to you myself. I only hope they did not see and suspect you when Harold brought you here. I think not. They have no reason to believe I'm not alone in the city. But I think they hope I will lead them to you. Skylar, they are servants of Morvath."

The tiny candle flame shriveled at the sound of the name. Skylar felt something cold creep over his body. Grim nodded knowingly.

"What's more, Morvath himself sent them. It was he who told the governor to let me free. Did you see how the governor cowered in his presence? I admit I too was frightened. For I feared he might discover you, sniff you out somehow. What agony he would suffer if he knew that the object of his hunting stood within his grasp!

"Skylar, you should not have come. He could have taken you. He controls the governor. No one would oppose him. No one would ever have known. What has become of Lord Orphlyus, I do not know. I fear Morvath is at the root of it. Orthunk said well, 'these are dark times.'"

"But what about Morvath's servants?" said Skylar. "Where are they?"

"Lurking outside. They followed me to the inn. But they will not enter, I think. I have little doubt that they wish to avoid detection. No, they will bide their time and follow me when I leave. Were I alone, I would lead them as far away from you as there is space in the galaxy. But I cannot let them follow me with you. Yet I dare not let you journey back alone."

"I'm not leaving you," said Skylar warmly. "We can fight Morvath's servants. Give me a sword, any weapon. I'm not afraid to face them."

Even as he spoke these words his heart trembled in his chest. Grim smiled faintly.

"I do not question your valor, my prince. But I will only face those two in combat if I must. Much less endanger you. Therein lies our difficulty, how to evade these cunning servants of Morvath?"

Skylar dropped his head, clenched his fists.

"Little use I've been to you," he said bitterly. "I came hoping to save you. Yet all I've managed to do is create more problems for you."

Grim did not gainsay him, but only looked at him with eyes neither meant to console nor reprove.

"My prince," he said after some time, "to none is given what would have been. There is naught for us to do but keep steady to our course."

Just then, the curtain to their booth was drawn aside and the corpulent form of the innkeeper stood before them. A steaming bowl of savory stew and a tall mug occupied a tray in his massive hands. That same grin beamed down at him, shaming the candle light.

"For you, lad," he said, placing the tray down in front of Skylar. "The house's finest stew."

Skylar looked at the bowl, hunger immediately panging his empty stomach. He eagerly grabbed for his spoon, then looked up at Grim. Grim held up his hand.

"Please, eat. Barryman has already taken care of me."

Not needing a second invitation, Skylar commenced devouring the stew with a voracious appetite. As he did, Barryman took a seat at the booth next to Grim. The wooden bench moaned and creaked beneath his ponderous weight. The table shook, nearly spilling Skylar's meal.

"They are still out there―the hungry wolves!" said Barryman in a near whisper. "I sent Harold on another errand. Told him to scout out the situation. The best he could without drawing suspicion to himself. Good one that Harold be. He said he saw no one, but that he felt as if someone was watching. If that's not enough for you, he spied thermal sensors in the street and back alley. You won't be sneaking out either way without them being alerted of it. Even if you climbed out a window."

"I'm sorry to have brought this trouble upon you, Barryman," said Grim. "I had little other choice. I only hope they will not suspect you as a conspirator."

"Bah!" exclaimed Barryman. "I won't hear of it. I'd burn down my own inn if I thought it would help our little prince here. I'd do anything for a son of Athylian. Anything to defy that tyrannous so-called king of ours. Do you see what he's done to Dura Cragis? Orphlyus is dead. Our beloved Orphlyus. A great leader. Lover of his people. I've no doubt Tarus is behind it.

"The new governor brought in the king's soldiers. They swarm our streets like drunken beetles, doing naught but putting fear into our peoples' heart. Did you see the streets? Do you see my supper hall? The people fear to leave their homes at night. No, Grim. You honor me.

"To get you two out of here undetected, leave it to Ol' Barryman."

"How's that, my good Barryman?" asked Grim.

The round innkeeper smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"There's another way out of this inn other than through doors or windows."