Chapter 1, Pages 28-32

“Yeah
they close them as soon as the sun sets,” the woman smiled warmly,
“And open them as soon as it rises again.”

The
woman began rummaging in her apron for a large key ring which she
held up with a triumphant smile. Nodding to indicate Rielari should
follow her, she made her way down the hallway to a small door at the
far end of the inn.

“This
room is one of the best we got,” the innkeeper said with pride as
she expertly picked the right key and unlocked the door. Holding her
hand out expectantly she looked skeptically at Rielari.

“Is
there a stable I can put my ride in,” Rielari asked as she handed
the lady a gold coin.

“Yup,
out back,” the innkeeper stated turning to walk back down the hall.
“Breakfast is served as soon as the sun comes up,” she said over
her shoulder.

Walking
back down the hall Rielari smiled at the lady as she went out the
front door. The grouper looked up as she walked out.

“I
don’t like this village,” it said with distaste.

“Neither
do I old friend,” Rielari said as she untethered the grouper and
lead him out back, “But it’s better than sleeping under the stars
again.”

It
growled in it’s cat like way as Rielari walked it into the small
stable. At least this one is better than the brothel, she thought.
The hay was fresh and the stalls were clean. A trough with fresh
running water ran the length of all the stalls and in each a bucket
of oats.

“I’m
not closing the stall door all the way,” Rielari whispered, “Just
in case.”

“Sleep
lightly,” it grumbled as it turned it’s attention to the meal
before it.

Rielari
didn’t feel comfortable taking off the saddle either instead she just
loosened the cinch and removed her saddle bags. Leaving the grouper
in the stable a feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach.
The grouper usually didn’t give warnings lightly, if it felt uneasy
then there was a reason. Doing a mental check of the weapons she had
on her to be certain she could reach them if she needed to, she felt
a little better but just barely.

At
the front of the hotel Rielari quickly scanned the street for any
sign of danger. Seeing nothing she walked inside and down the hall
to her room. She locked the door and did a thorough search for
anything out of the ordinary. Feeling slightly foolish she took her
clothes off and settled into the nice steaming brass tub that the
innkeeper must have set up for her while she was outside.

The
water was boiling hot and scented with bath salts. Rielari sighed
with relief as her knotted muscles began to relax. There was a dish
of delightful smelling soaps that she figured she would use to wash
her hair. It had been a few days since her visit to the bath house
and her hair was in need of washing. With a practiced ease she undid
the tight braids she had her hair in and running her fingers through
to get the knots out she tipped her head back into the water. Slowly
she rubbed the soap into her long hair. Rinsing her hair she sat
back in the tub and thought about what the grouper had said. She
would have to be on her guard the whole night and she didn’t like it.

Getting
out of the tub when the water started to get cold, Rielari wrapped a
large towel around herself. She walked over to her saddle bags and
extracted her brush. Sitting in front of the small mirror on the
little dresser she started to brush her hair. Looking at herself in
the mirror she scowled at the large streak of alabaster white hair
that came down the right side of her face. It was the only blemish
to her beautiful black hair. The white streak had caused her
problems in the past which is why she always braided her hair. Not
knowing much about her past she wasn’t entirely sure why people
looked at her with distrust if she ever let her hair down. It
bothered her and she was always looking for clues into her past but
so far had hit a dead end. The few people that had seen her with her
hair loose would not tell her anything and whenever she asked around
about it people shied away from her.

<span style="fon

t-size:medium;”>Rielari
left her hair loose as she stood up from the chair. Walking back to
her saddle bags she put the brush back. Her weapons were strewn on
the bed and she took checked all of them. The daggers she had taken
from the man she had just killed were in good shape. There were four
of them with blades about two inches in length and they were all
perfectly balanced for throwing. The handles were a beautiful mother
of pearl and on each blade was etched a tiny phoenix rising from
flames. She had never seen blades like them, they must have been
crafted in Friat. Next she inspected her katana’s taking each one
from it’s sheath assuring herself that they were still sharp and
undamaged. The two short blades were like wise undamaged as she drew
each out of their sheaths that had been strapped to her thighs. Her
kampilan was still in it’s sheath as well but she didn’t remove it,
the metal it had been forged from was virtually indestructible. The
two boot knives and the two wrist daggers were all still sharp and in
good shape. Her pouch of throwing stars she didn’t bother to look at
she knew they would be okay.

Confident
that all of her weapons were in good shape Rielari carefully placed
them all back were they belonged. Her kampilan she hung over the bed
post and the four daggers from the Friatian she placed under her
pillow. Double checking that the lock was secure she blew the
candles out and laid down on the soft bed.

Sometime
during the very early hours of morning, right before the sun rose
above the horizon, Rielari was awoken. The sound of someone
attempting to pick her lock had startled her out of her light sleep.
Quietly she got out of the bed and pulled her kampilan from it
sheath. She cautiously tip toed to the door and waited.

The
person trying to get into her room was not very good at picking
locks. She heard a muffled curse as the culprit made more noise
trying to gain entrance. Rielari stood poised as the door slide open
on silent hinges. Luckily the door slide inward otherwise the
intruder would have seen her. As the person crept into the room she
was ready for him. Quickly she stepped behind him and placed her
blade against his throat while jerking his left arm up behind his
back.

“Do
not move,” Rielari whispered. The man she had a hold of was very
tall with long pale blonde hair and she guessed blue eyes, “Lord
Zefrik.”

The
man trembled slightly, she figured she had guessed right. He had
broad shoulders, a lean waist and narrow hips which fit the profile
of a typical Friatian. His long hair was pulled back in a tight knot
at the base of his neck.

“Please,”
his rich, deep voice rumbled through her body, “We need to talk.”

Rielari
hesitated with indecision, “Oh we do?”

Zefrik
attempted to turn and Rielari tightened her grip. Her wicked
kampilan bit into the tender flesh of his throat almost cutting it.

He
froze, “Please.”

“Why
should I listen to someone who just tried to break into my room while
I slept,” Rielari ground out coldly.

“Because
I did not kill Yislon,” Zefrik said in bitter tones.

Rielari
was so startled she dropped her guard for a brief second and relaxed
her hold on the man. Zefrik turned quickly and grabbed her sword
arm, with a sharp twist he forced the blade from her hand. She let
out a surprised yelp as the pain coursed through her arm.