Even the most basic person in Asthore knew that the capital was Amoria. What most people didn’t know is that there is a line to get into Amoria. While Sloan waited for his turn, he really took in the true magnitude of the towering walls of the city. The city was a refurbished military fort from centuries ago. Where patrolmen once manned cannons, there now were people studiously surveying the sky for weather patterns. Not a person perched on the battlements knew of the bloodshed that the castle had seen. Tight-lipped, Sloan focused on the landscape surrounding the city instead.

Flat plains stretched for miles around the city. Some scholars theorized that the fort was constructed on a peninsula that stretched out to the middle of a lake that dried up centuries ago. It would make sense as to why the foundation of the city was so much higher than the rest of the plains that surrounded it.

But none of that was what most people were interested in. Amoria had a reputation as being an elitist establishment that prided themselves on being the best, no matter what the Talent was. As the capital of Asthore, Amoria strove to be the crown jewel to show the rest of the world their country was one to look towards for art and sophistication. No permanent citizen was below Grade A. All those who fell short tended not to last very long.

No one was kicked out per se, but if you could not perform your Talent up to snuff, finding work was impossible. 'Phyllis would have done well here.' Thought Sloan to himself against his will. Stifling his emotions, he focused back on the task at hand, finding the Amorian fountain, and hopefully a Djinn coin.

Near the entrance, people in uniform were talking to and guiding the incoming wagons for inspection towards a set of double doors. When Sloan and Talon got close enough, a uniformed woman guided the two of them to a different area than the wagons. Through another wooden door with an older man sitting behind a wooden desk. Just to the side at a much smaller desk sat a much younger man. Two bulky security guards eyed Sloan as the Music Talent sat down his bag to sit in front of the clerk.

“Welcome to Amoria. We just have a few questions for you to answer before we allow you into our beautiful city. First, full name please.” The man belted off, his pen poised over an official looking form. With another look at the guards, Sloan answered,

“Uh, Richard Sloan.”

“Very good." The man wrote so fast Sloan could hear the pen scratch across the paper. "Are we here for business, pleasure, or applying for citizenship?” The man asked quickly.

“Pleasure...you know sightseeing, shopping.” Sloan answered as the man made a checkmark on the sheet.

“How long are you planning on staying?”

“Uh…I don’t know. A day or two?” Sloan shrugged. The older man glared over his glasses at Sloan. Feeling like a scolded child, Sloan quickly answered two days. Satisfied, the man wrote the answer.

“That’s everything, Mr. Sloan. One last little thing.” The man reached into one of the drawers in his desk to pull out a lime green bandana. Carefully he folded the square cloth into a triangle. On both sides, he wrote the date for two days from today before handing it to Sloan “As long as you are in the city you are required to wear this bandana. On your head, around your neck, your arm, it does not matter.” Under the gaze of the older man, Sloan folded the bandana into an arm band to tie around his left bicep. With a nod of approval, Sloan was allowed to leave through a door to his right he that didn’t see before. As Sloan passed by the younger man he saw that the youth had sketched not only Sloan’s face but a quick sketch of Talon as well. The whole experience made Sloan feel rather uncomfortable.

All his negative thoughts were quickly brushed from his mind once he entered the opened wooden door to the city. Even in his most wild of dreams, Sloan could never have imagined the actuality of the City of Amoria. Every building was colorful and subtly different than the next. Some buildings were made of speckled stone or were painted with complex murals. He would never admit to staring up at one particular mural containing several animals he had never seen before with his mouth agape. There was no way an animal with a neck that long could exist.

“How will we ever find anything in this place?” Sloan asked, his neck hurting already from trying to take in all the sights at once.

Sloan was broken out of his reverie by a horse whinnying behind him. He watched the chestnut brown beast carry its rider and deer into the center of town. Since all animals were banned from entering the city limits Sloan watched in awe as people moved around the huge beast as if it were nothing. As he watched the horse walk straight with purpose, he compared this fine creature with the head-strong mare Roward doted on back home. Even the animals in Amoria seemed to be high class as well. Sloan followed right up until the two of them turned to give Sloan a perfect view of the fountain at the center of the city. The horse completely forgotten, Sloan realized that he was now standing on the outside of the town center.

In the very center of the city was a towering stone spike with water flowing from the where the spike broke through the ground. In a trance, Sloan made his way to the knee-high tile wall keeping the water in. Mouth still agape, he saw through the crystal-clear water each tile making up the fountain floor was meticulously painted in great detail. Life-like butterflies and flowers in all shades and species decorated the bottom. All joy faded when Sloan noticed that several people had tossed money into the water.

‘How many of those do you think made a deal?’ Talon whispered, even though no one else could hear her. The weight of their mission pressed firmer on their resolve the more they thought about what exactly they were up against.

“Even if it was one person, that is still one too many. Help me find that coin.” Sloan whispered, trying to look casual as the native Amorians gave him glances. Talon fluttered down onto the wall to bounce around the outside of the fountain wall. Separately, Talon and Sloan walked around the wall to see if they could spot anything. There was a break in the usual nature inspired tile. Written in careful lettering a tile read:

Nomad’s Spike

Drink in life's knowledge

May your little time on this plane

Be not spent in vain

Sloan wrinkled his brow. ‘Not spent in vain’? What was that supposed to mean? Looking up, Sloan tried to discern what the message meant when he saw it. Near the bottom of the stone spike, someone had embedded a coin.

“There it is,” Sloan stated out loud. Talon must have heard him because she was by his side in an instant.

‘Where?’

“Right there.” Sloan coaxed Talon onto his hand so she could get a better look. When Talon started to peck at it Sloan almost lost his balance.

“What are you doing?” Sloan scolded through clenched teeth.

‘It’s stuck.’ Talon reported, fluttering off Sloan’s arm. Trying to ignore the suspicious stares of people passing by, Sloan straightened his outfit. ‘Looks like you’ll need a chisel.’

Sloan made a face of discomfort before Talon spoke up again.

‘Hey! Unless you do have a spell tucked up under your cloak, we are out of options.’

“Right. Looks like we have some shopping to do.” Trying not to look too suspicious, Sloan tucked his hands in his pockets.

While Sloan was poking around the artisan area of Amoria, Talon was starting to see a pattern elsewhere.

First, it started as Talon noticing the guards walking two by two up the streets. Throughout the day, Talon started to notice the guards walked in pairs and in the same direction. Curious, Talon excused herself to go see where these guards were going. If there is a pattern to how they move maybe there was a way to exploit it. Sticking to the roof tops, Talon kept a sharp eye on the guards. While she followed, the duo made their way around the outside of the Nomad’s Spike. Finding nowhere else to perch, Talon rested atop of the Spike itself. From there she could see that the streets of the city were laid out in a wheel and spoke pattern. Cobblestone streets seemed to be too clean as people hurried along their day. If Talon looked hard enough she could see the number three shaped out of some of the rocks. Come to think about it, the stones the guards just stepped over seemed to make the number two. Thinking it was a trick of the light Talon forgot her mission to follow the guards and looked to see if the other numbers could be seen.

‘No way.’ Talon exclaimed. Sloan may not be around to hear her but she could not hold in her excitement. All twelve numbers on a clock where equally spaced out around the spike. ‘This, a game changer.’

Talon was elated by the time the sun was finally setting. According to the giant sundial, it was a little past six today. She had to get back to Sloan and tell him what he had observed. Led by the candle light from the artistic types that stayed up all night, Talon could navigate through the city to where the traveler’s lodged. When she realized she had no idea where Sloan was going to room for the night she perched on a roof. She could look into every single room to see if she could spot him, but that would take all night. When she was about take off to see if she could find a safe place to perch under for the night she spotted it. Flapping in the breeze was the scarf Sloan had worn previously. Heart fluttering faster than her wings, Talon made her way towards that window. Almost clipping the partially opened window, Talon landed loudly on the chair the scarf was tethered to.

Instead of Talon loudly announcing her triumphant return she was taken aback at the strange sight she was witnessing. Sitting in the middle of the room was Sloan hunched over a piece of rock with a chisel and hammer. The funny part was Sloan took off his shoes and socks to cradle the rock between his feet. With his tongue poking out, Sloan reminded Talon of her little brother when he was learning to tie his shoes.

‘What are you doing?’ Talon got in closer to notice Sloan’s slightly battered fingers. Sloan had hit his thumb so hard, the nail was discolored now.

“Practicing chipping off parts of rock so I don’t destroy the coin when we go to...”

‘Steal it?’ Talon finished, attempting to sound helpful but coming off as condescending.

“I was going to say liberate Amoria from the Djinn’s curse.” Frowning at the practice rock, Sloan picked another place to flake off as he talked. “Anyway, lucky for us the stall that sells sculpting tools also sells practice stones for students.” Sloan gave a hard tap of his hammer to have a thick slab of stone fall away.

‘Well while you were off wasting our money I discovered something useful,’ Talon moved back to the back of the chair, using her change in position to make the pause more dramatic. ‘I discovered that the guards follow a strict pattern when they go on patrol.’

Sloan stopped working to look up at the bird-girl. He pursed his lips in thought before he spoke again. “Does that apply to the nighttime watch too?"

Talon had not thought about that little detail. It would be a lot harder to track precisely how often they would pass a certain spot with the aid of a clock. Since the sun clock was utterly useless at night maybe she could use the moon’s position in the sky? No, the moon moves faster around the sky than the sun does.

‘I’m not sure.’ Talon admitted.

“Were there any lamps lit near the Spike?”

‘No. Why?’ In response to Talon’s inquiry Sloan reached for his back, which was overly bloated with entirely too much stuff in Talon’s opinion. From deep within the pack, Sloan pulled out an old pocket watch.

“If you could find even a small light source you could read the clock and from there we can have a better idea the timetable we have to deal with.” Sloan brought the pocket watch closer for Talon to look at.

“There are a lot of people in this town that work throughout the night. Maybe I can sit outside their window while they work.’ Talon suggested, taking the watch chain in her mouth. Thrown off by how heavy it was she dropped it a second later. The silence that followed was almost palatable.

“You know, if it is too much for you to handle we can always find another way.” Sloan tried to pick up the watch from the floor.

‘Back off! I got this!’ Talon dove for the chain, scratching Sloan’s outstretched hand on the way down. Pride wounded, Talon did not bother to see if she drew blood as she flew back outside towards the Spike.

True to her word, Talon found a young man painting into the wee hours of the night to roost. The young man worked until around four in the morning before he finally slumped into bed. By then Talon already had a pretty good idea when the guards patrolled passed the Spike. Utterly tired, Talon returned to the now dark room to grab some rest before morning. On the beautifully stained cherry wood desk the scarf from earlier was spooled for Talon to use. Padding down for the night, Talon lightened to the sound of the watch to lull herself to sleep.

The two of them slept until the early afternoon but that was ok by them. Talon tried to ignore the gnawing guilt she felt every time she spotted the simple bandage wrapped around Sloan’s hand. Pulling food from his cloak's deep pockets, Sloan produced a sandwich and deep fried potato slices.

“We only have one shot to get this right.” Sloan reminded Talon as he ate a potato that was cut too thin. Brushing off the crumbs from his front, he moved towards the window to survey the area below.

‘We have a thirty-minute window between the next round of guards to pass by. No pressure.’ Talon joined Sloan at the window.

“We’ll be fine, just be ready to create a commotion to buy us more time.” Sloan firmly reminded, glancing over at Talon.

‘Right.’ Talon admitted with less enthusiasm than usual.

“Ah, you’ll be fine. What are they going to do? Arrest a bird for disturbing the peace? Now we have a few hours before sunset so I’m going to get some more sleep before we sneak out. I suggest you do the same.” Sloan wiped his salt covered fingers on his top before pulling the shades closed.

* * *

Sneaking out of the inn was much easier than the two of them originally thought. The inn keepers did not even bother with the lock! Sloan had ‘borrowed’ a lamp for the occasion. It was a fancy new type of lamp that had a reservoir of sugar for the fluorescent yeast built right into the top. With a twist of the knob, a small amount of sugar was deposited on top of the yeast. In the dim light of the luminous yeast, Sloan and Talon made their way as quick and as quiet as they could. Sloan’s footfalls were the only noise audible in the dead of night. Both drew a breath of relief once they reached the edge of the center of the city. Ducking behind a refuse container, Sloan covered the lamp with his cloak so that the set of guards would pass them totally unaware. Patiently, the two of them waited until the light from the guard’s much brighter lamp faded before Sloan set to work.

Talon took to a higher point as look out as Sloan rushed to the Spike. He shed his cloak along with his shoes and socks. With the hammer in right hand, the chisel in his left, Sloan was forced to hold the handle of the lamp with his teeth. The taste of copper sharp on his tongue, Sloan went to quick work wading through the fountain to the Nomad’s Spike.

Heart pounding in his chest, Sloan repositioned the chisel several times to find the sweet spot. It only took one tap in three areas around the coin for it to come off. Sloan was so happy, he almost dropped the lamp right out of his mouth. Careful not to drop any evidence, Sloan recovered the coin. It still had some of the rock on it but he could take care of that later. For the time being the two of them needed to get back to their room at the inn. No one would be the wiser.

Sloan turned back to collect his shoes and socks when he heard the strangest sound. It was like two rocks rubbing together, but much louder. Curious, Sloan looked back over his shoulder to see the Nomad’s Spike had started to crack from the spot where the coin was lodged. The cracks turned to fissures as the Spike broke further and further. Terrified, Sloan scrambled to get as far away from the crumbling stone as fast as he possibly could. In his panic, Sloan collided with the small stone wall bordering the fountain, sending everything he was holding flying.

Stone and water were thrown about as parts of the formation broke off. Just as suddenly as the chaos started it was quiet again. Ears still ringing, Sloan could make out the shouting from the guards that heard the commotion, residents close to the Spike were throwing their windows open to see the cause of the sounds they had heard. In the collected light from the guards and the houses, Sloan saw the full extent of the damage.

All that was left of the Nomad’s Spike was an ugly pile of rock at the center of a once beautiful fountain. Sloan was roughly seized by his arms before he had a chance to recover his wits.

* * *

Sloan wasn’t even given any time to mope either. Sometime during his stay in prison, he fell into a fitful sleep before being hauled off to court first thing in the morning. Sloan was woken up rudely first thing in the morning by a guard banging on the bars of his cell. As he was blinking away sleep, the guards already were trying to get Sloan in a pair of too-tight handcuffs. Arms secured behind his back, Sloan was led out to the courtroom.

The entire room was silent as Sloan was led to the small raised platform in the middle of the room. Behind him, Sloan could feel the glaring gaze of the audience.

Presiding over him appeared to be a fresh-faced woman at a glance, but the muted tone of her skin clued anyone that she was wearing Leper’s Paint. A substance mostly used by people cursed with unsightly pockmarks or even an uneven complexion they wish to hide.

"Richard Sloan vs. the City of Amoria. Mr. Sloan, you are accused of the following, out after curfew, falsifying official documents: you stated you were here sightseeing and shopping, and finally," The Judge gave a deep sad sigh. "The malicious vandalization of a national treasure." She read off the case with a chipped no-nonsense manner as the audience looked on. The first thing he had noticed once he was settled into the sunlit room was just how packed it was. Sloan was guessing that destroying a priceless ancient artifact would warrant some attention.

“How do you plea?” She asked, setting down the paper. Sloan blinked to try and pay attention.

“Guilty.” Was all there was to say. Below the raised platform, the Judge, and court scribe, was a highly-polished cherrywood table that had all the evidence the guards had collected at the scene of the crime. Each piece of evidence was placed delicately on top of pure white cloth with little tags with a letter of the alphabet next to it. The Djinn coin was not from the A through C evidence, more than likely it had been lost in the rubble, waiting to be found. The judge gave a quipped ‘Right’ before shuffling through more papers that were in front of her.

“Very well. Now here in Amoria the punishment fits the crime. Unfortunately,” the judge paused, looking up from her paperwork to give Sloan a fiery glare. “There is no real punishment for destroying the pinnacle that our very town was built around. I have no choice but to combine the punishment for vandalism as well as theft. In addition to you doing free labor for the town of course.” The judge finished, flipping through several more papers in front of her. She was quiet for a minute as her frown grew deeper while she read through each page.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“It is a pity that you decided to rob from the very city that graciously allowed you in. In more barbaric times you would be publicly executed for such treachery. However, we do not live in such times.” A small quirk in her right check hinted her remorse in that statement. “Instead you shall be put to work under the city, using your Talent to better the world. Like you are supposed to.”

The judge spoke that sentence in a flint sharp tone. Instead of shame, Sloan felt nothing. It was as if all his guilt had permanently left him. Emotions that should be whirling around inside were silent. As if Sloan, had forgotten how to feel. He had failed. Plain and simple. Phyllis would be forever trapped as the Djinn’s trophy, Talon would spend the rest of her days curled up alone in a tiny nest, never to speak to anyone ever again and there was nothing Richard Sloan could do about any of it. Who was he kidding, he was caught by a couple average people. There was no way he could take on a Mythical Being!

He couldn’t be any more worthless now as he was, being a low-level Music Talent. So, trapped in the increasingly dark thoughts, Sloan didn’t hear the judge’s inquiry.

“Sorry?”

The judge sighed heavily before asking again, “Talent, Mr. Sloan! What Talent do you possess to better Amoria with to make up for your crimes?” Sloan’s throat tightened up. What could be possibly said?

“Mr. Sloan, I asked you a question.” she reminded him, barely looking up from her writings. Sloan tried to work his throat to make the words ‘I can’t. It’s too painful.’ Instead all he managed to sputter was,

“I…I…I-”

“ENOUGH!” Barked the judge. “I do not know what you are playing at but mark my words if you do not co-operate with this courtroom and take your punishment with stride, I will have no choice but to send you to the Camp Hope.” The judge threatened, causing a collective intake of breath from those present.

“I know.” Was all the Flutist could say. The judge looked taken aback for a second before pulling her composure again. Her expression was much softer now as if she didn’t like the idea of what she was about to do.

"You do realize what you are saying Mr. Sloan? Claiming you have an unrealized Talent is very serious. Camp Hope can mean a lifetime sentence if you are not careful, Mr. Sloan. Do you still claim you have a unrealized Talent?"

"I do." Lied Sloan. The entire courtroom erupted with noise. In a city filled with the most elite of skill, having no Talent was the equivalent of a death sentence.

“Very well. As punishment for the defilement of a national monument, theft, and refusal to co-operate with this courtroom I sentence you to permanent banishment to the Camp Hope.” The judge finalized her sentence with a clear bang of her gavel.

It was over.

It was all over.

* * *

“What am I missing?” Phyllis muttered. For a while now, Phyllis had been sitting in her under dress, barefooted, sitting on top of one of the many coin piles. She had spent every waking moment trying to figure out some sort of pattern to the chaos. At first, she started to sort the wish coins by the wish itself. As she read through the wishes, all of them seemed utterly random. Some wanted power over others, others wanted material possessions. Sorting the coins was impossible and with nothing to write on, trying to remember every wish and sacrifice proved to be just as impossible.

“There has to be a pattern. There has to be!” Phyllis pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. “Maybe I just need a break.” Wondering what Richard was up to, she got herself comfortable on the piles of coins and dozed off. Watching Richard hard at work trying to rescue her inspired her to try and figure out some information from the inside. Everything else in life they had done together, this was not going to be an exception.

Blinking against the harsh sunlight, Phyllis eagerly looked around for her husband. Her happiness to see Richard again melted off her face. Head bent, hands bound by heavy shackles and chains, Richard was shuffled to a covered wagon. Phyllis rushed over, forgetting that Richard could not hear her.

“Honey, what happened?” Phyllis reached out to touch Richard but her arms went through him like before. Growling in frustration, she began to pace a little. “Ok ok. This is fine." Phyllis tried to breathe and get control of her feelings but she couldn't hold it in anymore. "This is not fine. None of this is fine. What did you do? One minute you’re reading in a library, the next you’re getting arrested. I’m trapped in another plane of existence and here you are getting arrested! I mean just- “Phyllis had stopped saying anything intelligible. While she was having her rant, Richard was tethered to the inside of the wagon and being shipped off. Another guard tossed Sloan's pack roughly into the cart as an afterthought, causing a loud noise that drew Phyllis back to what was happening.

“Wait. No. Come back.” Phyllis tried to catch up to the cart when it all went dark again. More angry than startled, Phyllis looked around. She was seated in the same chair she was sitting in back when Jezebel Whit had taken her to Remington’s. Instantly, Phyllis noticed the usual bustling dining area was completely empty.

“You! What do you want?” Phyllis straightened up in her nicely padded seat. The Djinn had appeared in the seat in front of her as if he had been there all along.

“Not much, my dear, not much. You seemed a little,” The Djinn took a deep breath through his nose. “Distressed.” Phyllis took her own deep breath to calm herself a little more. Show no weakness. He might be a Being of great power but he was still a businessman.

“I told you before, I’m not buying what you are selling,” Phyllis told the Djinn firmly. The Being knitted his fingers together to rest his chin on.

“So noble.” He smiled, the man before his expression turned dark. “So foolish. Do you and that shaven monkey of a husband truly believe you can best me? I have seen mothers sell their children for coin. Entire villages burned to the ground all in the name of love. Humans blame everyone except themselves for their misfortune. All I do provide the tools; your kind does the rest. So long as there is even the tiniest seed of greed in the human heart, I will live on.” Phyllis was paralyzed as the once handsome Djinn’s eyes began to grow red and his voice began to sound distorted.

“Whether you make a deal or not is your choice.” The Djinn went back to his usual lighter demeanor.

“However,” the Djinn pointed to Phyllis. “You should know when Richard’s life ends, so does your own.” With a shooing motion, Phyllis was back sitting atop the coins again. Her whole world boiled down to the ever-increasing dark thoughts in her head. Phyllis must have fallen asleep while over thinking again because she was now standing in front of Richard again.

The man she agreed to share her life with, broken before her. A small sob escaped his throat. Phyllis sat next to her husband even though neither one could touch, she hoped that her feeling would reach him even though they were worlds apart.

“How are we going to get out of this one?” Phyllis asked with no reply.

* * *

The trip to Camp Hope took three agonizing days. The two men escorting him kept him under lock and key the entire trip. Bathroom breaks were almost unbearable under the eyes of two men watching your every move. A word was not exchanged during the long stretches of the road. Sloan was still chained to the inside of the covered wagon, even as they traveled further south through more barren land. Sloan would find himself staring, unfocused, out the back of the wagon, not even hoping to see Talon. She wasn't coming. Why would she? Following Sloan now would not bring her any closer to becoming human.

Not that any of that mattered to Sloan anymore. He had completely and utterly lost everything. All that could be heard was the steady clopping of hoof falls as the scenery slowly rolled by.

Roughly mid-day on the fourth day of travel, Sloan was startled out of his stupor when the caravan stopped. As he blinked out of his daze one of the guards gruffly unlocked Sloan’s shackles while the other tossed his pack onto the ground.

“Ain't nothin’ of value to steal here, thief.” The guard smiled before spitting near Sloan’s feet. Rubbing his sore wrists, Sloan allowed the wagon to pass as it flipped around to go back home again. It was early summer but Camp Hope did not seem to have gotten the message. People were bustling about their way, wrapped in crudely patched shawls and cloaks. Picking up his pack, Sloan was happy he decided to pack his cloak as he made his way through the town. He was surprised with just how dirty and pathetic everything looked. All the buildings looked like they were mismatched piles of clay. Some even reminded him of houses made out of cookies. Wary, Sloan tried not to make eye contact with some of the less savory looking characters peering at him through open doors. Even the sky looked grayer than should be natural.

Across from where Sloan had been dropped off, he immediately noticed the nicest building in the whole camp. All of the other buildings resembled storage sheds. A man could barely be seen from a shadowy alleyway, patching a hole in the planks with a mud compound. He stopped his work on patching up a wagon to train his eyes on Sloan instead. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sloan could see the subtle movement of something in the man’s mouth being fiddled with. Whether it a blade of grass or a nail, Sloan did not dare risk making eye contract to find out. Pretending like nothing was out of the ordinary, the flutist chose to examine the house in front of him. The banner draped over the second story balcony boldly stated that this dismal collection of houses was indeed Camp Hope. Utterly lost on where exactly he was supposed to go, Sloan guessed that the mansion would be the best place to start.

The streets were barren of people but the windows and doorways had curious eyes peeking out from the shadow. Subconsciously, Sloan started to walk faster trying to get away from the stairs. When two children scurried from under an overturned wagon, Sloan bolted towards the door. Terrified, he knocked so hard on the door it hurt his hands. A few minutes later a bored looking woman opened the door.

“Can I help you?” The woman leaned against the doorframe. She was dressed like one of the male servers at the Gala. Sloan glanced nervously over his shoulder to see if any of the townspeople had left their houses.

“Um yes. See, I am new here and- “

“Follow me.” The woman sighed, moving aside to allow Sloan to enter. Her shoes clicked loudly in the empty foyer. Sloan followed the woman up the sweeping stairs, to the only open door on the second floor. A man with a short but very curly hair style was writing on papers on a desk facing the door. The whole scenario reminded Sloan of when he checked into Amoria not even a week ago.

“Ah. It’s been a while.” The man commented, shuffling the papers he was working on to make room for several forms he just pulled out. “Please be seated.” The man seemed nice enough as he gestured. The chair in front of this desk was much nicer than the last one Sloan had sat on. Class and elegance seemed to shine from even the corners, making a stark contrast to the stick and mud town just outside the balcony window.

“Now I already know why you are here. No presentable Talent of course. But what I want to know is how you have avoided using Talent for this long.” The man looked up from his papers to really get a good look at him. For some reason, a slight chill went down Sloan’s being while he was being examined.

“The flute and holster strapped to your leg suggest that you wear them out of a want for a Music Talent or to throw suspicion if the subject ever came up. The wear around the third hole on that holster suggests you started this ruse at a younger age to avoid being singled out. Which just leaves the question of who was taking care of you all this time before your luck ran out?” Inquired the man, squinting at Sloan as if that would help him see better. When Sloan did not answer quickly enough, the man pressed on. For a second Sloan was wondering if he was supposed to answer the question. “No matter," the man continued, much to Sloan's relief. "You are here now and that is all that matters.”

Sloan was asked standard questions about his name, his age, if he was here alone or did he have a family. Except for his name and age, Sloan lied like a rug to avoid anyone tracing him back to Phyllis or Tinkerton. Even though she wasn't here anymore, Sloan could not bear a scandal linked to her name. When asked if he had a non-Talent related skill, Sloan mentioned helping a Sewing Talent sell her wares. He purposely left out that he was married to said Sewing Talent but that was neither here nor there.

“Shop keeping experience eh? Well good news Mr. Sloan, we have a job for you.” The camp administrator smiled as he finishing writing on the forms. “Now we don’t have traditional currency here but we do have a rations system that allows everyone to be equal.” The Admin pulled out a metal tag with a hole in it. Raised letters on it stated it was ‘Temporary1’. “Here is your temporary Ration Tag, do not lose this. I suggest a necklace. Preferably one that has been braided.” Taking the tag, the cold metal was quickly warming under Sloan's fingers.

“Your permanent tag will be delivered to your residence before your next scheduled ration administration date. Oh, and speaking of residence, the good Madame here will be showing you to your accommodations.” The Admin gestured to the still bored looking woman who had silently stood behind Sloan this entire time. “And like I said before, you are in luck. Your housing will be right above the Camp Store, which is also where you will be working. Alright, I believe that is everything. If not, heh heh, I know where you live.” It was an attempt at a joke Sloan was sure but for some reason, it did not feel like it. It sounded distinctly like a threat.

The woman was already trying to usher Sloan out of the office by this point. Sloan had to jog to keep up the sharp march of the woman leading him down and out into the town. At the sight of the woman, many residents morphed into the shadows as she passed by them. They passed several housing units until they came to the only other two storied building Sloan had seen since he’d arrived. It was a nice two-story house that had the bottom floor gutted and reformatted to have more space for open storage. The entrance had been fitted with a door that could double as a counter if you just opened the top portion. Sloan noticed that all the windows on the bottom floor were barred. The Madame helped herself inside with the aid of one of the many keys she pulled from inside her dress pants. He tried to see as much as he could but the rooms on the first floor were too shadowy. From what he could tell there were boxes in various states of being packed strung across the floor. Along the walls, he could tell there were fully packed boxes, neatly stacked almost to the ceiling.

“Martin Kosway! Your presence is required.” Commanded the Madame. A few seconds passed before a man descended the corkscrew staircase coming from the rooms above.

“What’s this then?” asked the stick of a man. He wore a graying patched up apron over his equally pathetic clothing. He seemed to be permanently muted gray like the town outside.

“Richard Sloan, your new shop assistant. He has been assigned to share housing with you as well. Are these terms and conditions acceptable?” The Madame had a matter of fact tone of voice that left very little room for argument.

“Like I have a choice.” Martin sarcastically replied.

“Very good.” The woman turned on her heel before heading out of the shop. Martin locked the door behind her before turning back to Sloan. The two of them shared an awkward silence before Martin spoke up.

“Well, as she bellowed, my name is Martin.” The man smiled, holding out his hand for Sloan to take.

“Sloan.”

“Well, Sloan, if it is all the same to you I’d like to start orientation tomorrow. You know, allow you to settle before I work you to the bone and all.” The man said with a chuckle. Sloan smiled weakly, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He followed the shopkeeper up the tight spiral staircase to the living area.

Compared to the graying bland white walls of the storage area below, the upstairs was a sunset of color. Warm yet subtle tones were splashed over every wall. Curious, Sloan peered closer to the uneven colors.

“Made it myself. The paint doesn’t like the sand I mix into it but it is better than the awful white color.” Martin commented, making his way over to the wood burning stove. “On an unrelated note, can you cook?”

“A little. Most of what I can make involves setting food next to an open flame.” Sloan placed his bag next to an open space near an overturned crate. Threadbare carpet with patchwork quilts made up much of the open area. For not having any luxury items the upper living area still seemed quite comfortable.

“Flatbread with cheese sound ok? I don’t have a lot of food to share at the moment.” offered Martin. Getting a glimpse of the man's shoulder, Sloan could see the man was not lying. He was pretty sure there was more dust bunnies than food on that shelf.

“Sounds great. Hey wait a minute, what about all that food down there? You know, in those crates?” Sloan pointed down towards the storage. Martin stopped working to look at Sloan, his blue eyes squinting.

“That’s the Camp’s food.” The man explained, slowly gauging Sloan’s reaction. “Look I don’t know how things are done where you are from but we only get food shipped out here once a month. So, all that you saw, that is all we have to live off for the next three weeks.”

“Geeze.” Sloan frowned. Sure, it seemed like a lot once it is all piled together but it sure didn’t look like enough to supply a town.

“Your face will stick like that if you don’t stop.” Martin prodded Sloan between his eyebrows. The strange little man offered the flatbread with the melted cheese on top on a battered plate. Forcing his face to relax, Sloan thanked him for the food before biting into the outside of the bread.

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll explain everything in the morning. For now, eat and rest up. Your room is at the end of the hall just past mine. We are the only other building in the Camp with indoor plumbing so if you want you can wash up in the bathing room across from my room. The hot water only lasts for like five minutes so be mindful of that. What else, oh yeah, work starts at sunrise.”

“Sunrise?”

“Well yeah, no one owns a clock so we just use the sun.” Martin shrugged before taking a bite of his own bread.

“Makes sense.” Sloan conceded before eating the rest of his food with more gusto. Martin finished first before disappearing into the first room down the only hallway. Richard followed shortly after, trying not disturb his new boss. The room was pathetically bare and dusty. On the floor, covered in an inch of dust, was a sleeping mat. Mentally exhausted from the current events, Sloan dropped the bag next to the door. Not wanting to deal with any cleaning now, he slipped off his cloak to lay on top of the filthy mat. Still dressed in the same clothes he wore the last three days, Sloan lowered himself down on top of his cloak to try and get some sleep.

After what seemed like a few minutes, Sloan was jolted awake. Covered in a layer of sweat and breathing like he just ran halfway across town, Sloan looked around the room for the cause of his panic. Trying to regain his breath, he kept repeating to himself it was just a bad dream and not real. Regaining his breath, he laid down to attempt to sleep again. If it was just a dream, why did it feel so real?

After what seemed like all night Sloan still couldn’t fall asleep. Unlike every other dream he had, this one was still as crisp and vibrant as if it had actually happened. Not like it mattered, time was irrelevant here. The silence was the worst part. Come to think of it, this was the first-time Sloan didn’t fall asleep from utter exhaustion since he left Tinkerton.

Frustrated, Sloan violently turned over to see his still packed traveling bag sitting in the corner where he left it. Acting on a whim, Sloan went over to the bag to feel around for his watch, maybe the gentle tick of the gears could help lure him to sleep. In the dark he was surprised to feel the handle of the lamp as he groped around. Sloan pulled out the lamp he accidentally stole from the inn. Everyone was too upset about the destruction of the Nomad's Spike to notice that one little lamp was stolen from the inn he'd been staying at. Since there were no candles in the room, Sloan chalked it up to at least a little good luck to go back to looking for his original objective. When he found nothing, Sloan remembered he gave the watch to Talon the night he was arrested. Huffing in frustration, he shoved the pack away from him again to go back to his shoddy bed. All Richard Sloan, the Talentless widower, wanted to do was sleep so he could wake up to his new life in this frosted over town. Closing his eyes, he hoped to find some peace while he slept.

Rat Tat TAT

Sloan jumped at the sudden rapping at his window. They were on the second story! A quick fumble for the yeast lamp shown light on the familiar silhouette of none other than Talon, the annoying bird.

“Talon?”

‘Who else could it be? Now let me in!’ the bird-girl demanded. With great effort, Sloan got up to let the girl in. A cold breeze swept in after her as she winged her way into the room. Snapping the window shut, Sloan yanked the curtains closed too. She circled the room once before dropping Sloan’s pocket watch with a loud thud.

“What on Earth are you doing here?” Sloan was, in fact, incredibly pleased to see her.

This would make it even more disappointing when he told her the bad news.

‘Couldn’t let you go wandering around without this, could I?’ She dropped the small drawstring bag Sloan hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying. To his surprise, nestled at the bottom was the Djinn coin.

“But how-?” He started to ask but couldn’t quite finish it. Talon preened her left wing for a second before answering.

‘You see, after you dropped the coin it rolled quite a ways before stopping. We’re lucky I found it in all the rubble. Oh, nice work on that by the way, love how you destroyed the several-thousand-year-old icon of my hometown. I then tried following the cart that was taking you away. Do you know how hard it is to fly with a coin in your beak and a heavy watch in your claws? Very hard, actually.’

“My hero.” Sloan said dryly, looking down, He felt the coin through the crushed velvet fabric, he weighed the whole thing in his hand. “But I won’t be needing this anymore.” With that, Sloan tossed the bag containing the coin right next to the bag he’d been lugging around for a while. The metal coin made a small thud as it made impact with the wall.

‘What? WHY?’ Screeched Talon. She yelled externally as well flapping her wings as if she were flailing her own human arms. Sloan swatted at Talon to move her off his bed. She flew over to the back, out of his reach. Dust was already starting to cling to Talon. Sloan flopped on his bed as if he were boneless, watching the dust cloud settle down around the room again. Even the dirt seemed to have given up here.

“Because you were right, this whole thing was just a stupid fool’s errand. I have no idea where I am going or even what to do when I get there. It’s just like you said before ‘completely stupid and the most idiotic idea ever.’” The pause after Sloan’s speech weighed heavily in his heart.

‘So that’s it then?’ asked Talon. Her voice seemed to cut through the misty fog of Sloan’s depression. ‘All that we-have-to-try talk? All that boasting...was all just a lie?’ Talon shouted.

“Whoa. Easy.” Sloan commanded, sitting up. At this rate, they were going to disturb Martin.

‘I trusted you. I actually trusted you! Here I thought that if anyone was going to do something it would be you.’ Talon accused. She flew from her space out of arms reach to sit on his knee. They had argued before but never so close, she was smaller than the length of his arm, yet, looking into her black eyes… Sloan knew fear.

“Wait a minute, no you didn’t!” Sloan said as he remembered. So what if her sharp beak was extremely close to his eyes? Sloan was now mad. “From the very moment I met you all you’ve ever done was complain about my plans or called me an idiot. Not once have you ever had a kind word or any hint of encouragement.” Sloan reminded her, taking the defensive. He was officially done with her negative attitude and her condescending ways.

‘And yet you still kept going.’ Talon shot back. Sloan blinked for a second, this was not the way he thought this argument was going to go. ‘I watched you deface public property. And for what? One tiny clue that might not mean anything at all.’ Sloan was slightly taken aback by how unsteady Talon’s voice sounded now. If the girl could cry Sloan was sure would have tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She hopped off his knee to the floor. She took several steps away from him showing him her back.

‘I wanted you to quit ok? Because…because you gave me hope. If you quit earlier then it would hurt less than if you were to build me up so much just to have it shattered.’ Her voice cracked over their link. Sloan reached out as if to pat the bird-girl on the head but he stopped himself. He felt he had no right to comfort her right now. Not when he was the one that caused her to feel this way.

“I’m sorry Talon.” he apologized before he rolled over onto his side. He even closed his eyes as to not have to look at Talon anymore. “You should go home in the morning. There is no reason for you to stay anymore.”

‘I don’t have a home.’ She replied quietly. Sighing, Sloan got up from his bed to rifle through his pack. He pulled out the scarf, which was now deemed Talon’s scarf, to pool it into a bowl shape.

“Here. Get some sleep. Our new life starts in the morning.” Sloan muttered in a tired voice. Without looking at her, he went back to bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.