They entered the room, and Sath locked the door behind them. It was small, with one bed and a small hearth. Nothing else. Hardly the palace at Qatu’anari. “I don’t know about you, but this is the weirdest adventure you and I have ever been on, bar none.” Sath sat down on the floor near the small hearth. “I don’t suppose you could…” Gin nodded and sent a spark from her fingertips to the wood and kindling in the fireplace, and it caught almost immediately. She looked at her hands and smiled, inwardly relieved that it worked.
Soon, it was a roaring fire, and Sath was dosing in front of it, so Gin snuck out to get the food without disturbing him. She smiled happily as she walked down the corridor and down the stairs they had come up earlier. Her nose told her that she was headed for the kitchen, and she soon entered a room with brick walls and all sorts of food cooking on grills and over open fires. A young human woman was tending to a large pot of something that smelled like vegetable soup. Gin walked over to her.
“Pardon me, miss,” she said, taking a step back when the young woman jumped. “I’m sorry to startle you, but I was just wondering if I could get some food? The innkeeper said -”
“Of course you can, love,” the young woman said. “Give me just a few moments, bread’s almost done in the oven. You’re the one with the Qatu, aren’t you? Can’t have it getting hungry and thinking that you’re a wood elf snack now, can we?” Gin grimaced, both at the image and the irony. She found a stool in the corner of the kitchen and sat down. The young woman turned to look at her, and her face fell. “Oh, no, my lady, you can’t sit in here, not with the likes of me, there is a very comfortable room across the hall with proper tables.” She scurried over and nearly pushed Gin off the stool and onto her feet. “Let me show you.”
“It’s really no trouble,” Gin began to protest but soon found herself swept off her feet and shuffled across the hall into a velvet cushioned chair. The woman from the kitchen was gone before Gin could even ask her name, so she settled into the chair, enjoying the feel of the velvet. It reminded her of the cushions on the floor in Sath’s chambers in Qatu’anari. The walls seemed to be hung with the same green velvet, and Gin got up to carefully touch them and see if they were as soft as the chairs. They were, and it was all she could do not to lean up against them for a nap—so she indulged herself for a moment, not realizing how tired she was until—
“My…lady?” a male voice said, interrupting her nap. Gin came around immediately and turned to find the dragonkind male that had spoken to them earlier, now staring at her intently. “Are you all right? I thought you had passed out cold against the wall there,” he said.
“Yes, thank you, I am merely tired from my journey, and the heat and wonderful smells from the kitchen lulled me to sleep,” she said, blushing to the roots of her hair. The man reminded Gin of…no, she wouldn’t let Dorlagar enter her mind. One evil human didn’t mean they all were, now did it? She extended a hand to him in greeting. “Please, call me Gin…I find My Lady a bit above me.”
He took her hand, and the electric shock she felt at his touch gave her goosebumps. His eyes met hers and widened—clearly, he felt it too. “You are the Nature Walker, are you not—nothing is above you, from what I understand. I am Josiah Dawnshadow, at your service.” Gin yanked her hand away from him as he brought it to his lips and he frowned. “I apologize, is that not how your kind greet each other?”
“What did you say your name was?” Gin was shaking from head to toe. “Josiah, what?”
“Dawnshadow,” Josiah replied. “I know it is an odd name, but it is the only one I have.” He chuckled, and Gin tried to share in the laughter but found hers sounded hollow even to her. “Have I said something wrong?” he asked. “You are looking at me as I have. . .”
“No, no, of course not,” Gin said, forcing her face into a pleasant mask and willing her body to stop trembling. “I am sorry, Josiah, but I have had a long journey, and I fear I am not quite myself. Tell me, are you from here—from J’yr Va’al?”
“Oh, no,” Josiah replied. “I am from M’aanyr—well, my mother was born just south of there, but my father was from the Old World, a place called Arend, have you ever been there?” Gin could barely keep herself together, so she nodded. It could not be a coincidence that Raedea and Dorlagar were from Arend, and shared the same surname. “I have heard that Arend is a beautiful city, but I fear I may never see it. Once you arrive here on M’aanyr, it is—difficult to leave, it would seem. Father never went back home.”
Gin studied him. Clearly, he was a relative of Dorlagar’s. Josiah had the same sharp nose, the same stern brow, and the same broad smile as the dark knight. Still, his amber eyes danced with happiness at the memory as he talked about how his father had come to M’aanyr with his cousins to try to track down the Mother Dragon after the Forest War. Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids as she wondered if this was what Dorlagar was like before his sister Raedea died and left him a shell of a man. She closed her mind to