The five hippotauns headed out of Lok Magius a couple of marks after sunset.  Three of them bore dwarven infantry whose grim expressions and stoic refusal to understand common had kept conversation to a minimum.

Eriel and Anna rode together, talking quietly among themselves.  Eriel was still icy cold to Aegan, and the young smith was beginning to feel the pain of her disapproval.  He rode alone, behind one of the dwarven drivers, with gear and equipment behind the two of them on the hippotaun.

The beast's canter was a smooth gait, and Aegan appreciated that the dwarves had domesticated such a wonderful animal.  The smith had been around war horses for much of his life, and although the hippotauns were huge and difficult to control, they had none of the inherent lust for battle that many war horses had; both required constant attention to prevent accidents or deaths.

Aegan glanced behind him.  Two of the hippotaun escorts were behind him, and the great bulk of Mount Rilan was only partially obscured by the forest around them.  The road up to Lok Giran was wide and well-built, affording quite a view.  Behind Mount Rilan's tall spire, and obscured by the forests, Aegan knew the giant Maroth to be already well up in the sky; he could see the dim red glow behind the mountain's heights, and it lit up clouds in the upper atmosphere with an eerie red light.

He turned to look down the mountain.  The stars were beautiful, and the two tiny moons of Gaeleth were both near the western horizon -- lit partially by the sun, and partially by Maroth's red light, and looking decidedly pink.  Below him, the road wound its way down through the trees towards a small city whose lights burned brightly in the night.  Starlight reflected from the broad ribbon of a river that cut its way through the seemingly endless forests of Rakore.

There were a few wagons along the great road, but far fewer than there had been during the day.  Most of the other traffic they saw were other patrols -- some from Lok Giran, and others from the town of Rilan, below.  The journey was sedate and calm, but the hippotauns made it deceivingly quick as they pounded around corners and switchbacks, and sprinted down straight-aways as fast as a horse at a canter.

By the time they had made it all the way to Rilan, the hippotaun mounts were decidedly surly.  Most of them had plenty of scars near their front shoulders, and one of the hippotauns had to be freshly spurred to keep it from stopping to eat a dog that was barking at them from someone's front porch.

Rilan itself was mainly a trade hub, with warehouses and merchants aplenty.  The small city was centrally located for all of Rakore, being half-way down-river for all of upper Rakore, and the only trading access for Lok Giran and Lok Magius.  Few torches illuminated the cobbled streets, but the massive Maroth provided plenty of red light down most of the thoroughfares.  Back alleys and cross-streets were especially dark, as the red light from Maroth allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness without them realizing how dim it was.

Already Maroth dominated all of the sky, taking up nearly half of the sky with its red-and-brown- banded size.  As Aegan glanced up, he could see the rapidly moving giant, glowing dimly with an angry red fire from within, gobbling up stars in the heavens.

Even as his eyes drank in the sight, and then turned to studying Teras, the young sorcerer compared Prophecies.

The heart of the Inquisition -- and its ban against mages -- was, "Lo! The mages shall be silent for five centuries, lest the Dark God return. And in his return, he shall plunge the world into darkness for all time, bound by his minions and in death."  The world had been plunged into darkness, if only for a few moments.  In the release from that darkness, all the world felt the death cry of the Dark God, and saw his blood spilled into the heavens to become Maroth -- Nabrolian (or so it was said) for Father Through Blood.

Even the stars in the heavens had been changed by the Dark God's rebirth and immediate death by the Chosen of the Sun God.  When Maroth did not dominate the sky, the constellations were different than those of Aegan's youth.  He knew the astrologers were having the hardest time of things, trying to rediscover the meanings of the heavens.

The hippotauns stopped in front of a large inn whose sign proclaimed it the 'Blue Tyven', complete with a picture of a dark-blue elven woman dancing nude with a sword in one hand, and a skeleton in the other.

The dwarven infantry dismounted, even as a strange creature strode out of the golden lamp-light inside to seek out the commotion four hippotauns and a thousand pounds of untalkative dwarven steel made.  The creature was an elf whose skin was as dark as the shadows, and whose big blue eyes were visible even in the night.  He was barely larger than Eriel, whose slight and fragile-looking frame was an embodiment of feminine litheness.  He spoke briefly with one of the dwarves in their tongue, and the silent answer was surly but informative.

The black elf's gaze sent shivers up Aegan's spine, as the human realized that he was being looked at by a member of the Dark Race.  The dark elves had once been the shock troops of the Dark God, before he had been killed during the Storm Wars of so long ago.

The dark elf's voice was a melodic tenor.  "Welcome to the Blue Tyven.  Please, come inside.  I understand your journey from Lok Magius must have been long and tiring."  He gestured suggestively, and the aroma of foods and spices grabbed Aegan by the nose, hauling him inside as his stomach growled for food.

Ten of the dwarven infantry marched inside with the two apprentices and the mercenary, and the dark elf pointed out tables for all to sit at while he deftly orchestrated his staff.  Despite the late hour, there were still a number of patrons inside, including a minstrel whose bass voice softly filled the air without dominating it.  Merchants conversed quietly, and their entrance drew little more than curious glances from all corners of the room.

All of the servants and attendants in the large Blue Tyven were dark elves, and they deftly handled orders for ale, heaping platters of food, cleaning tables, and more.  Aegan noticed about the black-skinned elves a sort of patience and wariness that was at once relaxed, and at the same time deadly.  He saw the same moves and the same looks in Anna, as he had in many veterans, and he realized that causing trouble at the Blue Tyven would be a fatal mistake.  Each dark elf was armed with at least a long knife, but most had short swords over their shoulders or at their hips, and not a few long swords and rapiers were evident.

Aegan, Anna, and Eriel were sat at a table by themselves towards the back, and quiet-but-watchful dwarves occupied all the tables nearest them.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as they sat together, before a dark elven maiden appeared at the table.  Her words, like the one that had met them at the door, were musical.  "What is it, then, that I can have brought out for you?"

Aegan's stomach growled again for food, and he said, "Steak.  Potatoes.  Bread.  Beer."

The dark elf smiled, and shook her head in silent refrain, even as she turned to Anna.

Eriel said, "You'll have to forgive my barbaric friend, here.  He's not too bright, but he fights well."  She glared at Aegan for a moment, before turning to Anna.  "I recommend a light meal.  Have you ever sailed before?"

Anna shook her head 'no', and the elf maid turned back to the dark elven servant.  "We'll both have inturiel kevask, if you have any."

The servant nodded her head with a smile.  "As long as you don't mind a slight bit of spice on your salad."  At Eriel's nod and smile, the servant asked, "And to drink?"

Anna said, "Mead."

Eriel said, "Elven wine, if you have any.  Sylvan."

The servant nodded, and quickly left, leaving Aegan to scowl and fret, half in hunger, and half in the discomfort of Eriel's continual attacks.

He finally asked Eriel, "Okay.  Vhat did I do?"

The illusionist looked at him in feigned surprise, her eyes wide.  "Why?  You don't know?  How surprising!  And all this time, I thought you were a studious young mage who understood Prophecy."

Aegan's eyebrows bunched together in a confused frown.  "Vhat?"

Anna turned to Eriel and asked, "Is he always like this?"

Eriel retorted hotly with, "I could ask the same of your whole race!"

Whatever fragile peace the two of them had had on the way down from Lok Giran was deteriorating quickly, and Aegan was getting exasperated.  He stared at the three candles in the middle of the table, and sighed.

As he stood up, the other two both turned to stare at him.  He ignored them, and walked towards the small stage where the minstrel was performing.

Anna asked, "What is he up to?  I could hear his stomach growling over the hippotauns."

"You're one to talk.  You're almost as big as he is," sniped Eriel.

"What is your problem, elf bitch?"  Anna Helldove's eyes flashed dangerously, and both women assessed one another at some gut level, deciding that a fight would benefit only the human woman that weighed half-again as much as the elf.

Eriel buried her flash of anger -- and fear -- and reassessed herself and the situation.  Her purple eyes softened, and she said quietly, "I heard about what happened to you -- and that your family was threatened.  You have my sympathy, there.  Doom Rex has been a thorn in our side for a long time."

Anna, suspicious, asked, "Who told you about that?"

The dark elven servant returned, and set down their plates and drinks, all of which had been easily balanced on her strong arms.  The dark elf smiled at Anna and Eriel, and handed each of them clean eating utensils.  She set the empty place for Aegan, and moved off towards the stage to tell him his meal was set, a fork and a steak knife in her seemingly-delicate hand.

Anna, once the dark elf had moved on, asked, "Who?"

Eriel's anger flashed in her eyes for a moment.  "I'm an illusionist, you tw-" and she bit off an insult.  "It doesn't matter who or how.  We have bigger things to worry about, like fulfilling the Prophecy.  And keeping that barbarian from getting himself killed."

They both looked to him, where he was in conversation with the minstrel.  The minstrel, a human with lustrous blond hair bound back behind his head and bright green eyes, was still playing his guittern with as much ease and grace as though it had been born to his hands.  The minstrel's eyes danced with merriment as he and Aegan talked for a moment, before the two parted.

Aegan returned to the table, and sat down to tear into his meal.

Eriel, picking at her inturiel kevask, asked, "What was that all about?"

The smith drank half his flagon of dark beer before answering.  He said quickly, "Tram may know who the Stolen Thief is."  

Aegan's brown eyes had a hint of laughter to them that made Eriel instantly wary.  She asked, "Who's Tram?  The minstrel?"

Aegan nodded, and continued after swallowing a piece of steak with a low moan of pleasure.  "Ve figured that the Stolen Thief vould be a thief, but ve vere mistaken."

Anna blinked, mentally digesting the statement.  "So who is this 'Stolen Thief'?"

Eriel growled, "He'll tell us when he's good and ready, and not a moment before."  She sipped at her wine, served in a thin, fluted glass of frosted green.

Aegan stabbed a bit of bread with his fork on the wooden platter, and said, "I'm not yet completely certain, so I'm vaiting for Tram to confirm it for me.  He and his vife vill let us know by morning."

Anna turned in her chair to look back towards the stage, where the minstrel was still strumming his guittern, and talking with a sylvan half-elven woman nearly as powerful built as herself.  The half-elf had the hilt of a hand-and-a-half sword sticking up over her shoulder, and her raven hair and huge green eyes made Anna sighed in jealousy at the woman's sword, or so she told herself.

Eriel looked at Aegan with speculative eyes.  She finally asked, "Where did you learn to fight, Aegan?"

The smith paused, a bite of steak half-way to his mouth.  "Fight?"

"Yes.  Where did you learn to use a sword like that?"

Anna turned her attention back to the conversation, and listened intently.

Aegan shifted uncomfortably under Eriel's purple gaze.  "I...  alvays vanted to be a paladin, vhen I vas growing up."

Eriel merely raised one delicate eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

The smith shifted uncomfortably.  "I used to practice vith tvin swords, like the paladins of Yatindar do, vhen I vasn't apprenticing as a smith.  My mastersmith vas...  But he had lost one hand against the Amarans, so..."

The elf was silent for a moment, as she delicately nibbled on an olive.  "Well?  Did your master indicate you had any skill?  Did he offer to train you as an initiate for the paladinhood?"

Aegan's face turned red in the candle-light, as shame filled him.  He idly pushed around a bit of potato on his plate, and sighed.  "No.  He said that my faith was too weak, and I did not follow the Justice God..."  He shrugged, and put his fork down to pick up his flagon and finish draining it.  "So, I stayed a smith."

Eriel said after a long moment, "And so you practiced in secret."

The smith snorted, unstung by the comment, because it wasn't true.  "No.  Master Mendelvich trained me vith the longswords.  He said I might need them, to protect myself some day, but he had only the one hand vith vhich to try to train me."

Anna interrupted.  "You mean to tell me that you were trained in sword-play by a 'retired' paladin of Yatindar?"

Aegan tried to speak, mumbling, "Vell, aye."

Eriel pressed the issue, trying to crack him. "That's forbidden, Aegan -- for a paladin to pass along the Thriblade style.  And paladins don't retire to become smiths -- they become priests, but not smiths."

Anger flickered within his eyes, as he rose to the defense of his old master.  "He vas a paladin!  He vas retired!  And he could not-"

The illusionist pressed on, "To pass along the Thriblade to a non-initiate is to be a Black Guard."  The Black Guard served the Dark God and his successor, most being good, solid paladins of virtue that had been corrupted and debased to something unholy.

Eriel realized she had pressed too far when she saw green flaring in Aegan's eyes.  He hammered a smith's fist into the table, toppling all three candles and rattling everything else on the table.  Anna jumped back, as Aegan roared in Vridaran, "Hargan Toothvael nae chul!"  More quietly he hissed, "He vas not Black Guard!"

He glanced around the room, his glare turning aside stares as easily as a shield.

He stood up and left the table, heading outside.  Two dwarves rose from their table and followed him, after staring incuriously at Eriel and Anna.

Eriel sighed, and put her chin in her palm.  "Well...  Now I know who really raised Aegan."

Anna said nothing, and the elf maid glanced at her, to see the human's gaze locked on the table where Aegan had been sitting.  Eriel glance at the platter Aegan had been eating off of, to see the whole of that side of the table coated in a clear layer of ice.  Even his chair had half-and-inch-deep black ice coating it.