The old door squeaked open and Ranloo got up from the dirty floor. He didn't know for how long he'd been sitting there but was glad Sern had finally returned to keep him occupied and in the present. Brushing himself off, Ranloo walked out to greet his friend. He pondered that for a moment. Friend. How had that happened? But he was glad for it. Without Sern, he didn't know what he'd have done. Maybe he'd be dead. For a second, that seemed like a good thing. But he didn't want to die. Ranloo pulled the cloak tighter around him and stepped into the small room.

´There you are,` Sern said as he approached. ´I was 'fraid you'd left. It took longer than I'd hoped, but it's late an' all. I got a good deal though.` He smiled broadly.

Ranloo tilted his head. ´Why would I have left?`

Sern placed his bag on the floor. ´I dunno. The... hunters?`

Ranloo frowned. ´Yes, we need to leave as soon as possible.` He watched Sern open the bag and remove some new clothes. ´Is there still time to find a new place?`

´Yeah, sure,` Sern replied. ´Here, put these on.` He handed Ranloo a pair of brown breeches and a tan tunic that reached halfway down his thighs. Its wide arms had buttons by the wrists and lacing to tie by the neck.

´Thank you,` he replied, taking the garments and inspecting them. They seemed of roughly the right size. It didn't matter anyway. He couldn't walk around in blood-stained breeches, shirtless, and a cloak. It would draw too many curious eyes.

Removing his old garments, he pulled the new ones on. The cloth wasn't as fine as he was used to, but still a big step up from his stained, dirty, and torn ones. He reattached the cloak.

Sern nodded approvingly. ´That looks much better.`

Ranloo smirked. ´How much did you get for the sword?`

Sern averted his eyes for a second. ´Six dragons.` He raised his hands in the air defensively. ´I know, I know. I said nothin' less than seven. But it's really late, an' twas hard findin' the right kinda people, an' –`

Ranloo waved it off. ´Don't worry about it. At least I have clothes and we can rent a place to sleep for the day. Right?`

Sern nodded and relaxed his tense shoulders. ´Yeah, tis true. But I didn't wanna disappoint you.`

Ranloo smiled and picked up the bag. ´You don't disappoint me.` He started for the door. ´Let's go.`

Sern followed him out under a cloudy sky. A thin drizzle brushed against their faces. Ranloo pulled up the hood of his cloak.

As they walked, they discussed how much they could afford to pay for lodgings, and most importantly, where. It had to be a place where they could sleep during the day, undisturbed, and where they could come and go unnoticed. And they had to either be close to animals, or able to smuggle them in. It wouldn't be easy to find on such short notice.

Hurrying their steps, they headed to a better-suited neighbourhood. They wanted as much distance between the hunters and themselves as they could.

Sern suddenly eyed Ranloo with a frown.

´What?` He raised his eyebrows.

´I was thinkin',` Sern began carefully, as if looking for the right words. ´I wonder why you didn't use your sword when fightin'.` He made slashing motions with his hand. ´You haven't used it even once.`

´Well... I actually didn't remember to,` Ranloo answered flatly. They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing at the absurdity.

´So, you don't remember usin' your sword an' fight barehanded against armed enemies.` Sern nodded theatrically. ´Smart.`

Ranloo grinned. ´It worked, didn't it?` He smacked Sern playfully on the shoulder with the back of his hand. The boy winced and Ranloo's mood dropped. Sern didn't feel safe around him. But who could blame him? ´I'm sorry,` he apologized and looked down into the street.

´S'okay,` Sern replied quickly. ´You startled me.`

´I know.` He sighed deeply.

From the corner of his eyes, Ranloo noticed how Sern glanced up at him, brows coming together, wrinkling his smooth forehead. Biting his lower lip, Sern struggled to keep up with his long strides.

As they neared the harbour, they looked for lodgings they thought might be safe. The insistent drizzle doused everything; cobbles and rooftops gleamed in the flickering light of the lanterns.

A shiver of fear ran down Ranloo's spine as the empty streets reminded him of that fatal night. He wondered what had happened to Dylnan after... He forced the thoughts away. He didn't want Sern to see how broken he really felt.

Here and there people sat in the gutters, sleeping or keeping watch on passersby. Sometimes drunks emerged from bars, singing and hollering. Ranloo avoided looking at them. They made him nervous. Sern glanced at him from time to time, as if guessing his thoughts. They encountered a few groups of sailors, making their way to or from ships in the harbour, cheering and talking. Ranloo hugged himself then, digging his fingers into his arms as they passed by, eyes downcast. Some threw curious glances their way, but most ignored them.

Shortly before dawn, they found a promising inn close to a small animal market. A stone and wood building with a pointy roof. Over the door hung a sign with a sea dragon curling around a mug of ale and the name ”Sea Serpent Inn” painted on it. The sign dripped in the rain, squeaking as the wind moved it. Ranloo stepped aside and leaned against the wall as Sern pushed the door open and entered.

Inside, a large dining room opened up. To the right, the innkeeper stood behind a counter, keeping an eye on the door, and to the far left, a big fireplace gave off light and warmth. Three cloaked figures whispered together in a dark corner, a huge dog-like ikelos with spotted fur slumped over a table with several empty beer mugs around it, close to the fire. A couple sat mumbling in the far end of the room, their backs against the wall, facing the door. A dwarf in a brown dress and a stained apron cleaned the empty tables.

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Sern took it all in, his eyes lingering on the ikelos, before walking up to the innkeeper; a middle-aged man with a big belly, a brown beard, bushy eyebrows, and the proud owner of a large protruding round nose. He frowned at Sern's dirty appearance.

´Evenin',` Sern began.

´What d'you want here, boy?` the innkeeper grated. ´This ain't no place for the likes of you.`

Sern hesitated only a second. ´We wanna get a room if you've got one. On the ground, in the back. No windows,` he specified in a low tone.

The innkeeper raised his bushy eyebrows, hummed, and thumbed his apron. ´D'you have coin? You don't look like the kind that has.`

Sern nodded. ´Yeah, we do.`

´Who're we?`

´My friend'll be 'ere soon.`

The innkeeper stared at him for a long time, leaning forward over the counter. Uncomfortable, Sern's eyes darted back and forth between the innkeeper and the mugs and barrels behind him.

´Very well,` the bushy man grumbled after a while. ´No windows?`

´No windows. If you got it. A door out back would be good too,` he added.

´I think I've got something for you if you can pay the price.` He held out a hand.

Sern produced a pouch with a faint jingle and handed over a silver coin, the griffin's head on it worn and old, but still plain to see.

The innkeeper studied it, lips pursed. His eyes swivelled to the pouch in Sern's hand, then went over him some more. ´Okay, that'll do.` He placed the coin under the counter. ´One ground floor room for two, no windows an' a back door,` he repeated.

Sern nodded.

´You better not bring trouble here,` the man warned, stroking his big beard. ´I don't take kindly to troublemakers.`

Sern shook his head. ´'Course not. As long as we're left alone. We don't wanna be disturbed.`

The innkeeper nodded slowly. ´Come this way.` He beckoned for Sern to follow, came out from behind the counter, and led the way to a door on the side. Behind it stretched a corridor lined with numbered doors. The innkeeper walked to the very end of the hallway and stopped. Taking out a key ring, he unlocked a door. It opened on silent hinges, Sern noticed. Well oiled.

Two beds pressed against the far wall took up most of the space in the cramped room. A small table separated them. To the left of the door stood a low wooden cabinet with a water bowl and bar of soap. A closet loomed next to it. Directly to the side of the right-hand bed sat a narrow door, bolted with an iron latch and a lock. There were no windows.

´We'll take it. How much?`

´Depends on your friend an' business.`

Sern frowned. ´Whaddya mean?`

The innkeeper sighed. ´It depends on who your friend is, an' if you're gonna make a ruckus or stay quiet,` he explained. ´Like I said, I don't want undue attention here. So keep it down an' it's five wyverns a day.`

Sern bobbed his head and smiled.

The innkeeper glared at him. ´If you cause a disturbance, it's a griffin per day or more.`

Sern nodded again. ´We won't disturb.`

The innkeeper handed the key over. ´You can come an' go as you like. We're open all hours,` he added before he left.

Sern studied the small room, tested the lock on the back door, and peeked out. A small dark courtyard opened behind the inn. There was an outhouse, a small stable connected to the house, and a wooden gate that closed the yard to the street outside. He smiled to himself. Perfect.

Ranloo leaned against the cold wall of the inn in the drizzle. The stones dug into his back uncomfortably. He looked up and down the street as he waited. Some broken barrels and boxes cluttered the opposite side of the street, a pile of old cloth beside them. A narrow alley ran between the opposing houses. Rats scurried in the shadows. An old man smoked a pipe further down the street, outside another tavern. To the left, the street lay empty. Waiting, waiting, waiting, Ranloo thought. That's all he seemed to be doing lately. A sigh escaped him.

The steady dripping of water, the creaking of the sign, and the approaching dawn made him sleepy. Sern took his time. He hoped that was a good omen. He didn't want to be out when the sun rose. Looking at the dark sky nervously, something caught his attention.

He slowly turned his head towards the narrow alley. He had heard something. A movement, breathing. Unconsciously, he held his breath and listened. Faint heartbeats. Someone sat by the barrels. Ranloo stared at the pile of cloth. It moved ever so slightly. It was a person, he realized. Not old thrown away rags but a too big cape and loose-fitting brown clothes, hiding the form of the person.

Looking closely, he saw a wisp of dirty blond hair falling out of the hood and the hint of a nose tip. Now that he knew, he couldn't see how he'd missed it. He drew in a long breath, smelling the air, trying to figure out who it might be. The rain enhanced scents but also increased the stink of the city. It assaulted his sensitive nose and he couldn't detect anything definite on the humid breeze, only the reek.

As Ranloo stepped forward to investigate, the door opened and he looked back. Sern peeked out and beckoned for him.

Casting a final glance towards the huddled form in the street, he followed Sern inside. Three hooded men and a couple by the back wall watched quietly as they entered and passed through. The innkeeper stared with undisguised suspicion, eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled.

Ranloo kept his eyes on the floor. Both to keep the strangers from seeing his face and to not tempt himself. He wasn't hungry but still felt a need, a strong desire, to drink their blood. It made him feel so alive and warm.

´Don't think about it,` he reprimanded himself under his breath. He didn't want to create a scene again. The fire crackled in the back of the room and Ranloo's eyes were drawn to the warm bright hearth, lingering for a while on the bright flames. So beautiful, unending graceful motion. Calming.

They entered their room and, for a precious moment, Ranloo felt like he had entered a king's bedroom. It was silly, he knew. But after a week sleeping on dirty floors in dark cellars, it was luxury. To be able to sleep in a clean bed was such a step up he could almost cry. The only thing still missing was a bath. He asked Sern about it, and he promised to ask for it the next day. They both desperately needed it.

Ranloo's hair was a dirty mess, his hands grimy and stained with dirt and blood. He'd tried to wash it off in the rain without much success. His only saving factor was that his darker skin helped hide the stains.

Sern looked almost as bad. But for now, they couldn't do much about it. They used the water in the washing bowl and the unscented soap on their hands and faces, but the rest would have to wait.

Stretching out on the beds, Sern fell asleep almost before his head touched the pillow. Ranloo lay staring at the roof for a while, listening to Sern's even breathing. In the dark, he felt lost and alone, missing the amulet he used to wear. He missed being able to pray to Mizar. She hated the undead, and he was one. Unnatural. It was hard to accept. He wanted revenge. Ranloo vowed to find that man. That monster. He'd find him and make him pay. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with the rising sun.