The Inn was quite different from the rustic establishment on the road from Chord's keep. On the left side of the road two large and windowless buildings greeted us: warehouses, by the look. Each had a small occupied kiosk fronting it.

At the first, burdened porters lined up before a large opened door while at the kiosk an attendant and a merchant went over paperwork. At the second, goods were already being carried out of the building by lightly clad bearers, while the kiosk operator ran about, checking tags and counting bales. Behind each storage facility sprawled two low single story dormitories.

We passed several porters loaded and lined up on the left side of the road awaiting some merchant's signal to move on towards Dervin. More than I would have expected to see, a sort of pedestrian traffic jam.

Finally the Inn itself, on the right side of the roadway, came into view. It was a white-stone two story manor with a veranda wrapped around three sides of it. The masonry was better fitted than anything I had seen so far, although each district did seem to use such materials as were close to hand.

Chord's region tended to build with sturdy log and hard stone, Corbell's more to river stone and mortar construction. I assumed the soft looking white block was something quarried locally.

The shaded veranda looked out over manicured grounds and a colonnade of groomed trees followed the wide pathway that lead through them to the entrance. I thought this elegance surprising, as the road headed away, not toward the kingdom's center. Evidently, Dervin served a lucrative trade route. Guests idled about the lawns while liveried servers bearing trays bustled here and there, seeing to their needs.

There were no smokehouses or cattle yards here nor were we met at the entrance by a smiling Innkeeper. I suspected our supply of gems and such would be depleted by the time we put this upscale stop behind us.

Trudging through the entrance we made our way to a heavily lacquered desk, behind which a thin haired clerk attended to our presence in such a next-item-on-the-list manner that I felt almost back at home, on a trip to Boston perhaps. I produced my two gems, which the clerk scaled. Then he offered a short list of possible accommodations and services.

We decided to share a room, signed up for dinner, and agreed with the clerk to take advantage of the inn's freshing, or laundry service.

"Is there any way to arrange for goods purchases here at the inn?" I asked.

The desk-man raised a brow as if I had inquired if the inn supplied beds. But answered with a practiced professional courtesy.

"This is the main trade route stopover between here and all of Tark, sir. The normal practice is, that trader agents use the main dining room for commerce between meal service. Some also have permanent conference facilities here, but," again eying me as if measuring my worth, "Most manage to meet their needs within the main room. Your room key, sirs."

The inn maintained a bathhouse at its rear, and that service we also subscribed for. The bathhouse was welcome. While the hard soap stung, the damp, hot steam-room of the facility offered a relief almost beyond luxury. It is amazing how much simple things like a plenitude of heated water, can affect you after long absence. I dallied there far longer than necessary breathing in the cedar smell of the steaming air while the inn's service cleaned my travel-stained clothes.

Brock suffered all this grooming with a slightly different attitude but with patience. Afterward, I was surprised to find that his beard was a brindle brown, and not the black I had assumed. He fussed and pulled at it bemoaning the loss of its "fine oiled coating" and grumbled until an attendant procured a flagon of bath oil from the ladies' side of the facility. His mane soon took on its black sheen, leaving him complaining of the "stench" the lightly scented oil imparted.

We lingered in our room just long enough to become familiar with it, then went on to the commons. As soon as we had taken a table a server appeared who began to recite a list of available provender. Brock cut the boy off sharply.

"Just bring me beer and meat lad, and in quantity. The beer now."

I ordered a somewhat more balance plate, and the house wine. The beer did arrive first, and at Brock's prompting I had a cup of it. It wasn't bad and to my surprise, not flat, with a woody overtone. Brock was in pig heaven.

"All this, this fussiness," Brock snorted, waving his cup to encompass the Inn generally, "ridiculous. But by god, yer folk can brew! Almost worth puttin' up with it."

I caught a glimpse of close cut red hair and familiar sharp features of Thavis Wayland round the common-room entrance. Thavis swept the room with slitted eyes, and started for our table. The fluid gait of the young Wayland threaded the room as deftly as a snake threads a cornfield.

"Thought you would come here, it's as I would have done. I have word for you from Chord, and some intelligence."

"What of Dimanda?" I asked, "Is she safe?"

"Safe and well. She sends you her love. Asks you to hurry, all that." Noticing my expression he added, "She is safe at the tower of Mage Belmus, a local pratitioner. Breathe."

Thavis took a seat unasked and helped himself to the pitcher of ale. "And this must be Brock, as he is the only Nublin in the room if not the whole inn."

"Aye." Brock eyed the dwindling pitcher sourly. "As you be all such good friends, you won't mind restocking the table with ale, eh?"

"Done," said Thavis, his usual smile twisting up out of nowhere. He motioned a server to do this, then returned his attention to me. "You can remove that rod from your spine, William. There is no traffic here from the south nor will there be til this bicker ends. We are among strangers here."

I relaxed at this glad for another friendly face and comforted that the mages continued to take an active hand in my venture.

"Dervin itself is flooded with grandfather's men, of course. Stay out of the city. There is no commercial or any other traffic allowed through the pass coming or going to Tark. Scouting reports say that the passes far side is similarly barricaded by Duke Felway. Dozens of sightings of little bright circles all through the pass and the crags surrounding it. Most of these Merchants, at least those intending to caravan from Dervin, are in for a surprise or are learning the bad news here tonight. We will have to find another route into Felway's Fief."

Brock shrugged. "It's not a problem lad, as I said before, I've kin in the mountains. The pass ain't the only way through."

"That's good to hear," said Thavis, "but it means less cover. Traveling over with the merchants would have supplied some extra safety from discovery."

"I've no need O' that. Yer kind ignore us evenhandedly on both sides of the hills. True, it's hard to see either of you two passin' fer Nublin, though."

I absorbed all this slowly, coming to realize what Thavis was saying.

"You intend on going with us?"

Thavis broadened his smile to a grin. "Can't let the kingdom's newest squire down, what would your betrothed say?"

"This is all getting me into a really serious fix isn't it? Perhaps better once I reach Tark, that I stay there."

"You lead a blessed life."

I caught another familiar sight, in yellow breeks, enter the commons. Brann Cours' features wore the most depressed and hang-dog expression I have ever seen on a merchant. Brock noted the direction of my gaze and swiveled about.

"Ah grief, 'tis that blabbing bumpkin ya met on the road. Don't stare at him William, or he'll be back in our laps tryin ta sell us his wares again!"

The advice was late in coming. Brann had already spied us at table and was muddling through the room with a chain-gang step.

"Young sir, have you room at table for a desolated old merchant?"

Brann did not wait for a reply and slumped into an empty chair like a sackful of potatoes, in a self absorbed funk.

"Bad news?" I tendered this up to break the silence that had damped conversation at his approach, not knowing what else to say.

Brann stared bleakly at me for a second, then moaned. "Ruined. I am a ruined man. The pass has been closed. I invested all in my current shipment! All custom loomed goods, for the palace, and to the Seneschal's taste, in Tark. I've enough to pay off the porters, see to my travel expenses and such, but my business is indentured to this shipment!"

Brock sat stonily still clearly annoyed at the intrusion and totally unmoved, while Thavis appeared to be socially embarrassed by the public denouement, yet equally unconcerned. I felt some sympathy, being a businessman myself, though I hardly knew the fellow. "Perhaps you can sell them in town, and recoup the investment," I suggested.

The merchant shook his head. "Oh, I could get something for them, something, I suppose, but only for the price of standard weaves, and deeply discounted at that, the town being flooded with vendors in similar straits as it is. Would be too much of a loss. I'd do as well to burn them, as sell them at market." He reached for the new ale pitcher, which set Brock's features to darkening, and poured himself a cup. "This must have ruined your plans too; you were off to Tark as well, I recall. A black day, it is."

Thavis looked thoughtfully at Brann, then startled me by saying, "Perhaps not all is lost. Attend me, William." We excused ourselves from table leaving the merchant and the sour faced Brock seated.

"If Brock knows a way to circumvent the pass it might be we could make use of this person, William. A small business venture wending its way to Tark would be a cover of a sort - make our journey less suspect, if you will, as we discussed."

"But, I don't know the guy, he's just a caravaner we met on the road here."

Thavis grinned. "Better and better. He knows nothing, is driven by his own concerns, and is headed for Felway's hold in Tark. Likely he could be easily cajoled into fronting the expenses for the trek, too. What do you think?"

I shook my head uncertainly. "I don't know. A bit of a coincidence don't you think?"

Thavis waved this off. "Not at all, this inn must be full of merchants in similar straits, but he'll do. Should we give it an effort?"

"Well, we could ask I suppose. It'll give Brock fits though. Best take him aside and tell him what is intended first. He's our guide in this."

"Leave all to me. Just keep the Merchant at table for a bit."

I agreed, and we returned and reseated ourselves. Thavis got Brock's ear, and the two retreated in the direction of the service bar for more ale, leaving me to face our visitor. Keeping Brann amused was as simple as keeping his ale cup full and occasionally nodding my head. The voluble Brann's life-story sieved like water through his mouth and it was with some gratitude that I welcomed the return of my companions.

Brock's attitude seemed lighter than when he had left. He carried two large ale jacks with him, which might have accounted for some of that. Thavis winked at me and filled Brann's cup from one of the new jacks, which surprisingly did not seem to bother Brock at all.

"I am thinking," said Thavis, engaging our guest, "that there may be a way for us all to be about our business."

"Eh? What's that? A way to Tark, you say?"

Thavis nodded. " Brock here, knows the mountains well--was a local guide here for years. Hunting parties, and such, you know. Could be, we might talk him into leading our own caravan, through to Tark, and avoid the pass. William and I would make for good guards, and we are all intent on the trip, only..." Thavis left his words hanging and assumed a mournful expression.

Brann waited quizzically expecting Thavis to continue. When this was not forthcoming, he prompted him excitedly. "Well, fellow? Well? What!"

Thavis broke, as if from reverie. "Oh. Yes, well, we were not prepared to fund such an expedition, obviously...this pass business is news to us too you see. We would need supplies, you would need to convince your bearers to undertake it, a million things. Also, it would have to be done, eh, quietly, or surely Wayland's officials would hear of it and stop us. All in all, an impossible thought, now I consider it."

Brann looked abashed. "Why not? Why not I say. Is this true, my stout Nublin? Can you ferret out a way to Tark? I can see to my bearers, relatives all, in any case. Supplies I can afford from that I laid by for caravan fees, and even get such wholesale from poor souls stranded here at the Inn! Why, the Inn's warehouses are packed with the goods we need, piling up fees for the fretting merchants! I could even add some new lines, at a cheap price too, perhaps, hire more bearers..."

Brann rubbed his hands together, and drifted off into a profit filled reverie of his own.

Thavis waved the man to attention. "Oh, good sir, no. A large convoy would be suspect and conspicuous. Also, others here would get wind of it, and surely we would be stopped. But if we were circumspect, and it were quietly done - what say you, Brock, would you assay it?"

Brock sat back theatrically, and pulled at his beard. "I don't know lads. T'were some danger to it, and I would have to impose on some of my own folk to see it through. Seems to me some bicker is brewing between your folks as well, could be more of an adventure than ye have the stomach for, all in all. Also, the ways be not as tidy as the pass, ye realize. I'd not do it for free, either."

Brock leaned over the table and refilled Brann's cup himself, much to my astonishment. Then he leaned back, coolly eying the merchant. "Still, it might be done. Three stout men for safety, a few bearers, us well supplied, and me to guide ya through...yes, it be possible. What say you?"

Brann checked over his shoulder conspiratorially, then said, "This could be the salvation of me. You're right, of course. Can't be too greedy about this. I can ask for a premium for the tapestries once through to Tark, and not lose anything at all. He hesitated. "I assume the two of you would be willing to guard without further compensation, as you have business of your own? Just to see the trip through well supplied?"

I raised my eyebrows to Thavis, who interjected, "I feel it safe to say we could even defray the expense of hiring Brock - somewhat, at least. I would leave it to you to bargain with him, though. I have no head for such things."

Brann actually looked pleased at this. "Well, well. Not a problem, not an issue, then. If you gentlemen would leave the good Brock and me to our affairs for a moment?"

We excused ourselves, and made for the service bar.

"Brock seemed pleased, how did you manage that?"

Thavis chuckled. "Brock is already being compensated by Chord and Orton for his time, aside from the fact he has taken a liking to you. He is doing all this to help in the reestablishment of his clan in the eastern lowlands, you know. Any profit he wrangles from your merchant just pays him double, and costs us all less. T'were an easy thing. Where is that walking teapot of yours?"

I took my wine order at the bar, and reviewed for Thavis our trip so far including where we had stashed Gort. The young noble's eyes wandered back to Brann who was hunched over our table deep in conversation with Brock.

"The thing would be useful on the trails. I've no particular love of lugging my own pack through the mountains. We might consider retrieving it for part of the trip, at least. We can always have it bury itself somewhere convenient along the way. Have to explain that to our new companion somehow though."

We talked of this, and decided on a story for the merchant, a private sale to be concluded in Tark no questions asked. Certainly something the rug vendor would be familiar with and an aide to our cover story should the man become curious. We were soon after called back to the table.

Brann was again rubbing his hands together, a gleam in his eyes. "Most satisfactory, I think. Brock will lead the venture for twelve rubies, including hostel in the mountains with his kin during the crossing. You two need bear only one each, being ten from me. What say you? A cheap price on your part, and fair, considering I am to stand for the supplies for all of us."

I kept a poker face and turned to Brock, who stood to gain a sackful of gemstones for something he had already been paid to do. Brock wore a self-satisfied smile and arched his brow at me.

"More than fair on my part," I said.

I explained our story about the Golem. The fact we had something rather suspicious to sell with us did not seem at all odd to Brann, who only nodded knowingly.

We made arrangements to meet up in the morning, and Brann hurried off to complete his transactions. Our food had shown up, so we fell to with a will. After, Brock and I left table to retire; as I would have to retrace my steps early tomorrow were I to retrieve Gort.

Thavis stayed, to wander the commons, looking for a game, and engaging some of the female patrons.