The town Pitt arrived in late in the day was named Walktown according to the welcome sign he had walked by on the road. It was like every other small town he had visited during his hunting days. One road had all the businesses and municipal buildings facing it. A small grid spread out from that to hold the various housing for the people who lived there and worked in the stores and restaurants. Roads leading to farms and ranches spread out from there in more irregular lines.

He checked the sun as he headed into town. This would be the best placeto take a break before he tried to head home from there. There was no sense sleeping on the ground when he could rent a bed. He might be able to hire a bath and get his clothes washed.

Tomorrow he could get directions to put him back on track. He had gone off course dealing with the hydra and the impostor.

He took a moment to wonder where the other man had landed in his gold armor. There was no doubt he had been injured, possibly killed in the exchange. He didn't particularly care which.

You shouldn't use someone else's name to create slaves to give you some of their strength. You should get strong on your own, or live with what you have.

Pitt walked into town, watching a large crowd at a local temple at the other end of the street. Crowds like that were a problem. If one guy said one thing, they'll turn on him and burn him at the stake. He wondered how they felt about people traveling through.

He decided he should get a meal before he moved on. Whatever was going on wasn't his problem. As soon as he ate and looked around for someone selling tobacco, he would be walking out the other side of town and headed for a place he could bunk without worrying about what everyone looked mad about.

He didn't want to get involved if he didn't need to. And he had a feeling that things could get messy if the town decided he was the reason they were angry.

He saw a diner off to one side. Some of the locals were pressed to the windows, looking at what was going on at the temple. He stepped inside and went to a table. He could wait for service for a bit. Just sitting down felt good at the moment.

He might need new boots by the time his trip was over.

Pitt looked around the place as he waited for someone to ask him what he wanted. He thought the place could use more responsible workers so he could eat and get a move on. He grabbed a biscuit from another table and chewed on it while he waited. The former owner seemed to be against the window with everyone else.

He started wondering if he should eat whatever he could off the tables around him when the crowd at the windows broke apart. The diner from the other table looked around for the biscuit that had been on his plate. He looked at the stranger at the other table. He didn't seem to like the wave of a hand he received for his attention.

A woman in an apron over a plain dress drifted to his table. She frowned at the other diner who apparently didn't know what he should say to a suspected biscuit thief. The woman turned to Pitt, assessing him with her eyes.

He decided she knew a biscuit thief when she saw one.

“How do you do?,” she said.

“Fair,” said Pitt. “I would like whatever the special of the day is, about five of those biscuits, and whatever beer you're selling. Also do you have a tobacconist in town? I need to get some tobacco before I move on.”

“We have a general store down the street,” said the waitress. “I'm sure you can get some tobacco from there.”

“Thanks,” said Pitt. He leaned back in his chair.

He wasn't going to admit to eating the biscuit. He had learned the first rule of crime and punishment a long time ago. Never admit the deed.

“Are you staying in town?,” asked the waitress.

“Not if I can help it,” said Pitt. “I plan to move on as soon as I eat and get my tobacco.”

“The roads around here aren't safe after nightfall,” said the waitress.

That explained the group around the temple. They wanted the cleric to do something about their problem. He wished them the best of luck with that.

“It'll be fine,” said Pitt. “This time tomorrow will see me a hundred leagues from here.”

She gave him a look of disbelief. She nodded before turning to go back to the kitchen to get his dinner. She assured the other diner she would bring out another biscuit for him since his was stolen by a traveling ruffian.

Pitt didn't let the barb sting his pride. He was tougher than that.

He also didn't ask about the night troubles. If he was leaving town, it would miss him and grab someone else, or it would come right at him. Either way, he was fine with the outcome.

If it grabbed someone else, he didn't know anyone in town to care about it.

If it came at him, he had killed enough monsters not to be more than a little annoyed since he didn't know what was going on. When he was facing it, he might be a little more than annoyed and that would be something he could demonstrate.

Either way he was heading home despite whatever the trouble happened to be.

A cleric of Mogen Farn came into the diner. He looked around and nodded when he saw Pitt sitting at his table waiting for his dinner. He walked over and stood at the table, looking down at the traveler.

“Can I help you?,” asked Pitt. His tone said go away.

“I certainly hope so,” said the cleric. “Are you William Pitt?”

“No,” said Pitt. “I'm Beaver Trees.”

“Really?,” said the cleric.

“My da thought he was funny,” said Pitt.

“I have a message for you to come to the temple if you're Pitt,” said the cleric. “It's about you stealing your coat.”

“I didn't steal this coat,” said Pitt. “I took it from the lost and found. The owner wasn't going to come back to get it.”

“In either case, I have been asked to ask you to come to the temple,” said the cleric. “I would appreciate if you did come along.”

“I would like to eat and move on,” said Pitt. “I don't have plans to go to the temple.”

“I have been told to remind you of your oath,” said the cleric.

“I don't see how not wearing green helps in this case,” said Pitt.

“The other oath,” said the cleric. “I'm just the messenger. Please come to the temple and talk to the person who wants to talk to you. Then I can go back to my own duties.”

“Insistent?,” asked Pitt.

“Yes, I would say so,” said the cleric.

“I'll be over as soon as I eat,” said Pitt.

“Really?,” said the cleric. The question was a few octaves higher than the rest of his speech. “I need you to deal with this right now. He's waiting for you in the temple.”

“Really?,” asked Pitt.

“Yes, really,” said the cleric.

“Then he knows I have been on the road a while and I'm going to eat before I deal with him,” said Pitt. “”That's just how it is. You can go back and talk to him, or go somewhere else. I'm good with whatever.”

“I'll wait,” said the cleric.

“I'm not good with that,” said Pitt.

“I don't care,” said the cleric. He crossed his arms. “Just eat fast.”

Pitt heard the guy at the other table chortling. He glared at the guy. That made him laugh more.

“You're ruining my meal,” said Pitt.

“That is not my problem,” said the cleric. “I have a lot of real problems right now. Once I have you sorted out, I can get on with trying to fix the rest of it.”

“Would you like something while you wait?,” said Pitt.

“No,” said the cleric.

The waitress arrived at the table with a mug of beer for Pitt and a plate of food. She took one of his biscuits and handed it to the other diner before moving on. Pitt raised his hand to protest, but the cleric took two of his other biscuits to chew on.

“I thought you didn't want anything?,” asked Pitt.

“I felt a hunger pang,” said the cleric. “It happens.”

“If it happens again, you will be drawing back a nub,” said Pitt. “If you're hungry, get your own.”

“I don't have time for that,” said the cleric. “Can you eat faster?”

“No,” said Pitt. “What was that ruckus at the temple earlier? I saw it when I came into town.”

“The townspeople want to burn some sick woman at the stake,” said the cleric. He started working on one biscuit. “They think she has the plague. I assured them that whatever is going on, it's not the plague. They weren't happy with my answers to their questions.”

“What do you think is the problem?,” asked Pitt. He dug into his food, sipping beer to wash bites down.

“I don't know,” said the cleric. “I've never seen anything like it. It's not the plague, but she is wasting away.”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out,” said Pitt.

“What do you think it is?,” asked the cleric.

“I don't have an idea,” said Pitt. “I don't deal in illnesses.”

“You don't,” said the cleric.

“I'm a retired adventurer,” said Pitt. “I wouldn't know the plague from a hole in the ground.”

“That's not what I expected,” said the cleric.

“You expected some cleric who could look at something and tell you what's wrong,” said Pitt.

“Exactly,” said the cleric.

“That's not me,” said Pitt.

“Then why the message?,” said the cleric. “And why are we holding up one of the Eternal Court?”

“It's probably not anything that has to do with your mysterious sickness,” said Pitt.

He knew that was as much a lie as the false name he had tried to use. Whatever had sent the cleric to fetch him to the temple knew what was going on. And what was going on wasn't some kind of plague. It was a monster of some kind. You didn't trust a gardner to build you a mansion if you had a mason nearby.

Pitt looked down at his empty plate. He raised his mug to look at the bottom of it. He grimaced. He couldn't stall any more. He had to go face his benefactor in the flesh.

This should be a hoot for one of them.

You didn't see a god for years, and then you see two in a month.