It was well after sundown when Ninte finally stepped out into the narrow hallway outside her room. She locked the door with the copper key and heard the lock scrape into place. Then, trying to ignore the muffled moans and grunts of pleasure that came from behind some of her neighbor’s doors, she hurried downstairs. The innkeeper nodded to her as she emerged from the stairway and motioned to an empty seat at the bar before him.

As she descended, she took in the room below. A large stone fireplace had been cut into one wall and its gray chimney rose up in contrast to the wooden walls. The remnant embers of a small fire glowed at its base, and as she watched, a slender serving girl in a short dress that left little to the imagination, sauntered over and stacked two logs above the coals. The embers soon stirred, and before long they were devouring the fresh wood with a crackle.

Several chairs were arranged in a half-circle around the fire and round tables with low stools filled the rest of the room. Most of the chairs were occupied by tired-looking men, nursing drinks as they chatted in a rumble of low voices or scraped away at the contents of wooden bowls and plates laden with stew and roasted meat. Weaving between the maze of tables, chairs, and staggering men who seemed to have started their evening celebrations earlier than the rest, were several serving girls. They wore different outfits to the one who had stoked the fire, but all shared one similarity; they were all outfitted in far more revealing clothes than any Ninte had ever seen. Some wore short dresses and sandals with thin tops, while others wore tight skirts with low cut blouses that left certain aspects of their anatomy practically spilling out into view.

Ninte lowered her head and hurried to the bar where she slid into the seat provided. The innkeeper, who had been watching her as she made her entrance, grinned from behind his mustache and slid over a wooden mug. Ninte looked down and sniffed the brown liquid inside before taking a sip and grimacing. It was ale. Adriyan had allowed her to try a sip of his one evening years ago, and she had never forgotten the bitter taste that had lingered in her mouth for some time afterwards.

“I’d give you water, but ale is the safer choice tonight. A rat managed to get into my water barrel and the bastard couldn’t get out,” the innkeeper said.

Ninte looked back down at the ale and shrugged, taking another sip and forcing herself to swallow.

“Will you be wanting your meal then?” the innkeeper continued, and when she nodded, he turned and disappeared through a door behind the bar that led to the inn’s kitchen.

While she waited, she continued to sip her ale and soon found that the foul taste bothered her less and less. She had just drained half of her mug when a deep voice from somewhere in the room behind her rang out and caught her attention.

“Did you know Mano scouts have been seen again over the past few months. If they’ve heard about Lord Ariyon falling ill - and I’m sure they did - who knows what they are planning? We are helpless if they attack now. The House of Ariyon is divided as never before.”

“Maybe,” said another younger man’s voice, not quite as deep as the first. “But we’ve only seen small attacks so far. Not like the attack on the old Inya settlement in the north. If you ask me, these Mano scouts are nothing more than Mano boys trying to prove their valor to each other.”

“They did break the gate down last time, and if it hadn’t been for Lord Ariyon’s guard, these Mano boys could have caused a lot of harm,” the first voice said, growing louder as its owner’s temper flared. “Now, with those two brothers arguing about who will take over when Lord Ariyon is gone, I’m not sure what to think. They should announce the Lord’s successor as soon as possible. What are they waiting for?”

Ninte’s heart was racing as her head once more filled with the gruesome images from the dream she had had while spending the night in the wild. She gripped her mug so tightly that her fingers began to turn white at the knuckles. She knew it was the town square in Velniya that she had seen, filled with fire, screams and the clash of weapons. She hadn’t been able to save the mare. Would she stand there helplessly yet again, or would she be able to change the fate of the people she had seen laying around, mutilated and scattered across the town square?

Her thoughts were disturbed as the two men, who had seemed to have paused their discussion as one of the many scantily clad serving girls delivered fresh drinks. Their harsh voices turned to honey as they flirted with the maiden, but as soon as she was gone, they resumed, albeit at a quieter volume.

“What are they waiting for?” the younger man repeated sarcastically. “Not everyone believes it’s such an easy choice.”

“What’s there to debate? The Lord’s son Yurgin is the elder brother. His father taught him well. Taymen, although he might be the better warrior, should count himself blessed that they didn’t throw him in the dungeon for challenging his older brother’s right to rule. He should aid his brother as well as he can, under Yurgin’s command.”

“You might want to keep such opinions to yourself, old man,” the younger of the two proclaimed. “There are plenty of people in Velniya who disagree with that.”

“People… like you?’ the deep-voiced man asked in such a quiet manner it was almost a growl, and Ninte had to strain to hear over the hum of other conversations taking place around the room.

The thud of a wooden plate heaped with food being set down in front of Ninte made her gasp in surprise. She had been so enthralled in her eavesdropping she hadn’t noticed the innkeeper returning from the kitchen. She looked up at him with wide eyes and was about to stammer an apology, though she was unsure why, when he spoke first.

“Don’t mind them, that’s just the ale talking,” he said.

Behind her, Ninte could hear the raised voices of the men she’d been listening to as their discussion soured to an argument. The innkeeper produced a short, sharp whistle. He made eye contact with one of the serving girls and nodded in the men’s direction. Then, as Ninte watched, the girl set down her tray and gathered a few of the other serving girls. Together they quickly made their way over to the argument. Ninte turned back to her food when they reached the men, but the angry voices soon died down. After a few moments, she caught one of the girls leading one of the men by the hand as they made their way up the stairs.

With her head spinning from both the ale and from what she had just witnessed, Ninte finally settled down to eat. The plate before her held a steaming braised chicken leg, its skin roasted golden brown and flecked with dried herbs. Next to the chicken were a pile of new potatoes and a stack of green beans, a dollop of butter sat melting atop both. She dug in hungrily.

The chicken was almost finished, as were half of the potatoes, when Ninte started on the green beans. She was just scooping several into her mouth when a man stumbled up to the bar and into Ninte as he struggled to climb into the seat next to her. The green beans fell from her fork, and she looked over at the man.

“Sorry.” He slurred with a hiccup before turning to the bar, knocking on its polished wood and calling out, “Ale, if you please!”

The innkeeper, who had been standing a few paces away talking with another customer, nodded and moved to serve the drink. While he did this, the new customer turned back to look at Ninte, squinting at her through unfocused eyes. She glanced back at him, flashing a fleeting, polite smile before turning her attention back to the meal.

“You have very unusual eyes,” The man said, turning in his seat to face Ninte completely. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Ninte looked over, the smile now vanished from her face and her heart began to pound as an uneasy feeling came over her.

“Yes, quite unusual indeed. I feel like I recognize them from somewhere. So pretty though, and your face matches, of course!” he said.

The innkeeper arrived and set the brimming mug of ale in front of the slurring man, capturing his attention.

“This is both your first and your last drink.” The innkeeper said, looking over at Ninte who had stopped eating and set down the wooden fork. “Oh, and she’s a guest, not one of mine. Leave her be.”

The man raised both hands to show his palms innocently, swaying in his seat as he clambered down and took a step away, seemingly forgetting about his drink, until he lunged forward and grabbed it, giggling. The innkeeper stayed close for some time as Ninte continued to eat, but after a while, he left again through the kitchen door. The drunken man seemed to reappear immediately, sauntering back over to her side and leaning against the bar facing her. The stench of stale ale spewed from his mouth, and Ninte had to hold her breath to avoid losing her dinner.

“I know he said you don’t work here, but I can pay you well and I promise you’ll have some fun.” As he spoke, he reached out and gently traced one finger up and down the exposed skin on her right arm.

His touch sent shivers down her spine and gooseflesh sprang up on her arms and neck. The murmur of conversation and laughter that surrounded them seemed to fade away until only she and this one man remained in the room. The man looked down and saw the bumps prickling on her arm and he smiled, licking his lips as hunger flashed in his eyes.

“I told you you’d enjoy it. Why don’t we head somewhere more private?”

“I have to go,” Ninte said suddenly and pushed her chair away from the bar as she moved to stand. She turned and had just begun to hurry towards the stairs when she felt a hand grasp her shoulder.

“I’ve asked you nicely…” the man growled, and, before Ninte could react, she felt his palm against the back of her head followed by the horrifying sensation of cloth sliding from her scalp.

Spinning round and leaping away, Ninte saw the man glaring at her, her shawl hanging limp in his hand. She saw his eyes dart up to the bone ridges on her head and the resulting look of surprise as they widened, and he began to open his mouth.

In an instant, the world was coated in silver dust. Bright light pulsed from the man as the familiar strands of silver traced throughout his body. Acting on an instinct that she still did not understand, Ninte focused her energy on the light emanating from the man’s neck. He gasped and stepped back, clutching desperately at his chest. Even through the silver hue that now covered her vision, Ninte saw that his eyes had turned from white to blood red. He reached out to her, still fighting for breath as the strands of light were extinguished and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Turning to face the room, she found it had gone deathly silent. Every eye in the room was trained on her and fear was painted on every face. Bewildered, Ninte raised one hand, ready to defend herself should anyone try to attack her, when a sharp pain erupted from the back of her head and her vision exploded with bright sparks. She stumbled forward and fell to the floor, the innkeeper standing over her, a shining bronze pan in one hand as darkness overcame her.