The air was muggy and the heat sweltering in the forest, but Sanesh hardly noticed.  His eyes darted left and right, absorbing the splendor of the forest and all its greenery.  It was very much different from his homeland of Kipoor, far to the south.  There, the trees were stunted, small things that hardly produced leaves at all, and most of the plants were small and prickly, tiny living fortresses closely guarding what moisture they could from the people and animals that would take it from them.
	Saneesh had become enamored with the lush forests of the north the first time he had been allowed to travel with the trade caravan his family took every year during Kipoor summer.  He had barely been old enough to brush down the droch team that pulled the wagons during his first trip, yet he had shirked what little responsibility he had been given to spend time wandering through the fields and trees, so transfixed was he by the plants.  While his father had been upset at Saneesh for failing to do his chores, he used some of the profit from the trip to buy his son a leather-bound tome about plants before they had returned to Kipoor.
	By the time for the trip the next year, Saneesh's blind fascination with plants and herbs had grown into a full, scientific understanding of the subject.  He derived a more complete happiness from his knowledge of herbology than he did from merely gawking, yet the first few days each year in the north country still left him breathless as he reacquainted himself with the lush wilds.
	However, even alone here in the middle of the forest, Saneesh had to try to keep his mind on the task at hand.  After finding a suitable place to set up camp for the night, Saneesh's father had asked him to go into the woods and forage for herbs.  Medicinal or edible, Sanesh would take either he could find.  His caravan had only recently arrived on the Menodos continent, and they had not yet had time to bolster their supplies.
	His quest was fruitful within minutes, as he came across a small patch of alith plants huddled near the base of a towering elm.  Alith was good for a variety of minor ailments of the skin.  He wasted little time collecting his small harvest, and placed them in his leather shoulder bag.  After acquiring the alith, Saneesh found a  narrow stream and followed it deeper into the forest, stopping occasionally to pluck leaves or dig roots.
	The ground began to take a slight upwards slope to it, and Saneesh looked up to see where the steam would take him.  A small hill stood in front of him, and there, rising in the distance beyond it was the mysterious tower.  
	He had long since exhausted his supply of curiosity over the tower.  It rose into the sky, an impossibly tall and unnerving structure.  It was gray on all sides, perfectly square, and even on a clear day a person could not see where the top was.  He had explored it with his brothers quite thoroughly when they were younger; there was little to be seen.  There was no entrance anywhere, and the wider base of the tower was over twenty feet tall - an insurmountable distance for three young boys.  Saneesh merely took it as part of the landscape now.  It was far less interesting to him than the plant life in any case.
	As he crested the top of a small ridge, the forest thinned some and Saneesh noticed how late it had gotten.  The sun was threatening to slip beyond the distant mountains at any time, and the sky was spilling pink from the eastern horizon.  Night would be on him soon, he knew, and he should be getting back to the caravan.  Yet, as he turned to follow the stream back through the woods, something caught his eye.
	The tower sat in the middle of a sunken valley, ringed on all sides by small hills like the one he stood on.  The forest stopped abruptly on those hill tops, giving a clear, unobstructed view to the top of the base of the tower.  Saneesh was certain he had seen something moving on that base.  Something big.  He stood still for a moment in the shadow of a tree, and focused his eyes on the tower.  There, coming around from the other side of the tower!  A man-shaped shadow lurched out from behind the walls and stumbled towards the edge of the platform.  It tottered for a moment, then pitched forward off of the base to the ground below.  Saneesh watched with a sickening helplessness as the shadow bounced limply off the ground.
	Saneesh knew that whoever that was, they were most likely badly injured from the fall and would need help.  He cast his gaze around the empty valley and knew that help would come from no one but himself.  The shadows lengthened around him, further emphasizing the choice that had to be made.  Offer aide to a total stranger, or return to camp while the light still held?  There was little time to hesitate.
	In a surprising leap forward that nearly caused him to stumble, Saneesh began running down the slope into the valley, eating up the distance to the tower with long strides.  The tall summer grasses in the field whipped at his arms, and he disturbed more than one snake basking in the sun.  The tower slowly filled his vision as his loping gait brought him ever closer.
	The tall grasses thinned about twenty paces from the base of the structure, and the ground was instead covered in spongy green moss.  Slowing not one bit as he reached the structure, he rounded the corner to find the stranger lying face-down on the moss.
	Saneesh approached him and looked him over.  Whoever he was, he was breathing, which immediately perked Saneesh up.  He was afraid that the man might have broken his neck in the fall.  The man was thin, but appeared wiry and healthy.  He was dressed in a green short-sleeved tunic of an older Menodian fashion and leather pants and boots.  Beside him, a crimson red bundle tied up with a silver tasseled rope lay partially under one of his arms.  A mop of dark brown hair obscured his head and face.
	Kneeling, Saneesh gingerly touched the man's shoulder and spoke.
	"Are you alright?"
	Stupid question, he knew, but one that bore asking.  There was no response from the man.  He looked up at the sky; the sun was touching the tips of the western mountains.
	"Sit up if you can, we need to get back to camp before it's dark."  This time, Saneesh rocked the man gently, but still elicited no reply.
	More drastic measures were required.  Bending over the man, Saneesh scooped his hands underneath him and flipped him onto his back.  The face that he revealed was unlined and youthful; Saneesh decided that the man couldn't be much older than he was.  A purple bruise the size of a Kipooran gold coin stained the forehead of the man's thin face.  It was likely an indication of the blow that rendered him unconscious. 
	When the man did not move after Saneesh had flipped him over, he knew that he was going to have to carry the stranger back to the wagons.  He didn't look too heavy, but Saneesh had ranged more than two miles into the woods and dreaded covering the same uneven ground in the dark with the man on his back.  Still, hesitation only brought night on quicker, so with a grunt, Saneesh hefted the man up and onto his back.  He bent to retrieve the man's pack from the ground, but found that, even unconscious, his ward held tightly onto it.
	The valley that he had covered so quickly with his run seemed to inch by while burdened with the man.  The snakes he had bothered earlier did not reappear at least, and for that, he was grateful.  He bent his head and tried to hurry as much as he could, but the man lolled left and right, and Saneesh had to constantly stop to readjust him.  By the time he reached the lip of the valley, the sun had disappeared completely, and twilight held a very tenuous grip on the world.  There was no way he was making it back to camp before night fell.
	Fearing he would be lost until morning, he let despair slip into his mind.  Maybe he should leave the man where he was and come back for him with help.  Grimly, Saneesh shook his head.  That wasn't an option.  The man could be seriously hurt, and until his sister had looked the stranger over, Saneesh could not know for sure.  He might die if left exposed in the wilderness.
	As this dark train of thought ran through his head, he suddenly noticed a noise that he had been disregarding.  From not too far to his right, the tiny splashes of water came from some hidden source.
	Of course!  The stream that he had followed for much of his hike had led to the ridge of the valley!  If he could follow the stream, he would be a good deal closer to his family and help.  With renewed vigor he hiked the man up on his back and took off down the slope.  In no time, he found himself standing at the head of the creek with the babbling water leading a trail off into the dark.  Smiling, he struck out to follow his makeshift path just as the last remnants of light dissipated from the sky.

***

	"Saneesh!" the cry echoed through the trees.
	Filled with relief that he had gone the right way, Saneesh collapsed to the ground, out of breath.  He unceremoniously dumped his human burden onto the forest floor beside him.
	"Saneesh!"
	His father's voice was easily recognizable as it cut through the night.  A cold, clear voice that both terrified and soothed him.  He gulped a large drink of air and replied.
	"Father!"
	There was no immediate response.  He called out again, the collapsed against the trunk of the tree behind him.
	Within minutes, Saneesh heard the snaps of twigs and rustles of leaves that meant his family was coming for him.  He closed his eyes for a moment until the noises were close.  When he opened them again, he saw his father and his twin brothers emerging from the scrub in front of him.
	His father was a lean and hard man with the small pointy beard that most Kipooran men wore.  The black color of his beard was not echoed on his bald pate.  He was still dressed in his traveling robes, with a long sleeveless overcoat of dull purple that hung to his knees.  With dark eyes like holes into hell itself he brandished his gaze down at his youngest son.  When he spoke, it was in his native Kipooran tongue.
	"Saneesh!  Where in Almeda's Beard have you been, boy?  It's been dark for over an hour!"  His father's eyes drifted to the form laying limp beside him, then widened in a start when he realized what it was.  "Who is that?"
	His father slowly calmed down as Saneesh related his tale.  Anger seemed to be replaced with concern for the strange young man.  When Saneesh was finished, his father asked the twins to bear the wounded man back to camp and to let their older sister examine him.  The two broad-shouldered men easily lifted the young man off the ground, and began to walk away in the direction they had come from.
	His father held out his hand and Saneesh grabbed it and stood up, brushing himself off.  The two trailed off after the twins, Saneesh stretching out his sore muscles and his father with his hands clasped behind his back in thought.  The road was not far away, and when they got there the fire from the camp was easily visible in a clearing up the road.  The smell of spicy food wafted in the night air, and Saneesh suddenly realized how hungry he was.  He was about to make a line for the food when his father suddenly stopped him.
	"Saneesh," he said, and let the name hang in the air a moment before he continued.  "We must be careful."
	So taken aback by the sudden and blunt announcement was he that no reply was able to form on his tongue.  He simply stood there with his mouth hanging open.
	"You did a good thing today, son.  Few would have even checked on the man, much less carried him on his back through the wilderness.  I cannot fault you for your actions.
	However, we cannot be certain yet if the charitable action was the correct one.  You likely saved his life, but whether he feels any appreciation is still unknown.  Why he was up on that tower, and how he got there is anyone's guess.  There are many foul stories surrounding that place, and I believe some people take its presence too lightly."
	The implied rebuke did not go unnoticed by Saneesh.  There were indeed many strang tales about the tower, even in his homeland of Kipoor.  The simple fact that he was used to the tower by now made it no less dangerous.  There was little reason for an honest man to be prowling around the tower.  The man he assisted had probably been up to no good before Saneesh encountered him.  Saneesh dropped his head and began to realize he had likely made a big mistake.  Getting involved with some lawless treasure hunter was the last thing their caravan needed.
	Seeming to sense his growing self-doubt, Saneesh's father interjected.  "In all likelihood, though, the stranger is probably just some curious youth, off the farm for the first time and seeing the world if it kills him.  You made sure that, for today at least, it didn't kill him.  That's a noble deed, son."
	Saneesh's own mind had already found more than one hole in his father's theory by the time he was done speaking.  However, at this late an hour, and feeling as tired as he was, he decided to begrudgingly accept the possibility until there were more facts to be had.
	By now, the rest of the family had noticed the two standing on the road, and one of Saneesh's aunts was calling to them to come get a plate of food.  Giving his father a weak grin, Saneesh breathed deeply the spicy aroma and walked back to camp.

***

	Dark birds whirled away into the distance of the blasted landscape.  No trees or plants were to be seen anywhere about.  Rocks, the color of fire and dried blood jutted at severe angles from the barren earth.  The sky echoed the colors of the ground, and far into the shimmery distance, it became difficult to separate them.  Thorn felt a sharp, throbbing pain on his forehead, yet when he reached his hand up to touch it, he found both his arms chained tightly to a figure beneath him.
	It was a lurching, dark thing roughly the shape of a man.  It carried him on its back, his hands bound near its waist.  Its naked skin was charred beyond recognition, flakes flapping and cracking off in the hot wind.  Oily black smoke coughed up through holes in the thing's surface.  Thorn tried not to breathe.
	His body was weak beyond movement and flopped about pitifully as the creature he rode navigated the ravaged landscape.  His mind felt trapped in his own body, bouncing furiously against the sides of his skull, trying to get out.  His eyes darted left and right, panic welling within him as he tried to understand his current predicament.  Something was wrong here.  He shouldn't be here at all.  He needed to be...somewhere else.  He tried to call out to the abomination below him, but ash caught in his throat and he could only cough.
	For a time, he lapsed into a silent acquiescence of his predicament, deciding to conserve and restore his strength until it was needed.  He slumped his head against the walking creature's shoulder and gazed into the distance.  Low rolling hills, cracked and scarred were the only features of this desolate place.  Thorn concluded that something had happened to cause this destruction and that no place could naturally be this sterile.
	Time wore on and Thorn knew that his body should be cramping from being in the same position, but it was not. The dry heat of the place had settled into his core, but he did not feel thirsty.  Likewise, his strength had not returned, and his head continued to hurt with the same intensity as it had before.  It was as if he was frozen in time somehow.  Could it be a dream?
	"Not exactly," spoke the creature in a voice that sounded like bones breaking, seemingly in response to his unvoiced thoughts.
	Thorn froze.  Slowly, he rotated his head to face the creature as much as possible.
	"What happened here?" he asked, wondering if a reply would come.
	It did not.  The creature grunted as it began to climb a steeply inclined hill, the largest he had seen in this place.  Pebbles and small sharp rocks skittered down the slope after each stride, tracing the ashy footsteps the creature left on the ground.  Thorn looked upward, and caught sight of what he thought was the top of the climb.  From beyond, a pulsing green rose from the unseen ground, casting hues of color that only made the landscape seem even more haunting.
	The creature stopped as it reached the lip of the rise, and threw Thorn to the ground.  The creature released the other end of the chain that bound his wrists, and it fell with a dull clink onto the ground.  Thorn managed to get himself upright, and took a moment to stretch, even though his body didn't feel like it needed it.  He was about to unwind the chain from around his wrists when the creature's hand darted out and caught his forearm.
	"Listen to what I have to say before you do that.  For when the Dream Chain is removed, you will leave this place."
	Thorn was about to take the chain off in any case, but the creature's eyes caught his own and he stopped.  They were a deep orange, much akin to the color of the land and sky.  He saw no malice in them, and a great deal of hurt.  He opened his hands and held them up to show he would do as the thing had asked.
	"Good, you will listen to reason then."  The creature released Thorn's arm, and turned to face outward off the hill.  Thorn turned as well.
	His gaze fell upon a deep depression, nearly a chasm.  It cut downward into the rocky ground, a savage rending of earth.  From its deepest recesses pulsed the brilliant green light, its intensity rising and falling rhythmically.
	"What is this place?" he whispered in a voice little more than a breath.
	"This is the epicenter of destruction.  This is where threads break, the future crumbles, and life ends.  This is your legacy."
	Thorn took a sharp intake of breath, and looked at the horrible being.  Its eyes reflected the strange pulsating light.  Questions, excuses, and bewilderment flooded into the boy's mind.  He couldn't have done this, and he was about to say as much, when the creature beside him held out his hand and pointed at the far end of the chain around his wrists.  It was crumbling to dust, the disintegration traveling along the chain toward the loops around his arms.
	"Your sleep ends, and the Dream Chain dissolves.  There was much more I needed to tell you.  When I can craft another chain, you and I shall meet again."
	Thorn thought he saw the thing's mouth continuing to move as it spoke, but sound and sight and all senses fell away as his body dissolved along with the chain, and the ashes were carried off by the wind.

***

	With a violent intake of breath, Thorn snapped his eyes open and jerked into a sitting position.  He was surprised to feel a blanket fall away as he did so and a softness like a bed underneath him.  His face screwed up in a look of perplex, he turned his head around quickly to see where he was.
	His gaze was met almost immediately by a face mere inches away from his own.  It startled him so in his current shape that he merely fell back down into a laying position onto what he was now sure was a bed.  He looked back up at the face, for the first time catching its details.
	Large almond eyes the color of honey looked down at him with interest.  They were framed by a tan face with smooth skin, and a youthful smile was growing wide below them.  It was clearly the face of a girl, a couple of years younger than he by the look of it.  Her lips split into a wider smile, and she turned her head, two long braids of thick black hair whipping around as she did so.
	"Minira, he's awake!" She called out in a strangely exotic accent.
	Thorn heard quick footsteps coming toward him, and another face appeared above that of the girl.  The features were similar to the first face in almost every way, but aged to womanhood.  Two intensely brown eyes peered down with little of the warmth Thorn felt from the first young woman.
	"So he is."  The older woman's carried but the smallest hint of the accent Thorn had caught in the other's voice.  She bent down and placed herself right in front of Thorn's face.  He was keenly aware of her body's heat.
	"Can you understand me?" She asked slowly, clearly attempting to erase any bit of accent upon her voice.
	Thorn blinked in surprise at this question and and struggled for a moment to speak.  "Uhm, yes."
	She rose back into a standing position.  "That's good at least."  The younger woman was now smiling even broader than ever, and Thorn noticed with a some dismay that she had propped her elbows on the edge of his bed and was staring at him with her head cupped in her hands.  He was suddenly taken by the urge to sit up again.
	He did so, and became suddenly dizzy.  His discomfort must have been apparent, because the older woman gently grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly made him lay back down.
	"Easy now.  There's no need to rush things.  Maybe we can introduce ourselves first and help you get your bearings."
	Thorn nodded meekly, not quite feeling steady yet.  "My name's Thorn."
	At this the older woman finally smiled and raised her eyebrows.  "Just Thorn?" she asked, "Well, that will do for now, I suppose.  I'm Minira," she laid a hand on the girl's head, "And this is my younger sister Jadira.  We're both from the Habeeni family."
	Thorn smiled and nodded.  He had suspected the two women were sisters.
	"It was our brother Saneesh that found you out there, and brought you back while you were unconcious." Jadira said, still smiling, "He told us what happened!  How did you get up on the Tower?"
	The Tower!  He had nearly forgotten in the aftermath of the dream!  With renewed interest, he sat up, and began eying the room for the bundle the Root Woman had given him.
	The room was small, and longer than wide.  It was made all of polished wood, and a multitude of mirror-backed candles lit the space to full illumination.  His bed was a narrow affair, and seemingly built right into the wall.  A visual cacophony of brightly colored drapes and bags hung on the walls, adding a lively air to the place. He noticed that the sisters were each wearing full length dresses that echoed the energetic color pattern of the room.  Each also had her hair tied back with a patterned bandanna.  His eyes cast about furtively, trying to distinguish the crimson pack from the rest of the brightly hued clutter.
	Almost seeming to read his mind, Minira pointed to the corner of the room, where the mysterious object leaned on the wall, wrapped in its red cloth.  "Are you looking for that?  No one has opened it."
	The brief burst of panic drained from Thorn, replaced by calm relief.  These people had found him injured, brought him back to their home, and nursed him to health.  He had nothing to lose besides his pack and his life, and they had taken neither when they had the chance.  He decided to trust them for now.
	"Jadira," he said to the younger sister, "You said you brother found me.  I would like to thank him if I could."
	Minira broke in before Jadira had a chance to say anything.  "He is outside at the fire, probably still eating if I know him.  If you're able, why don't you go out there and let him know you're alright?  He's a caring soul, and I know he's worried."
	Testing himself, Thorn swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to straighten up as much as possible.  His head still swam, but he managed to keep it in check well enough.  Slowly, he rose to his feet, and breathed deeply through his nose.  He was only slightly taller than Minira, which surprised him.  He had not realized how tall of a woman she was while he had been laying down.  Jadira stood up not long after he did, and he noticed the top of her head barely crested his shoulder.  The girl grabbed his hand and led him eagerly to the door at the end of the room.
	"I'll show you Saneesh," she said brightly, grasping the brass doorknob and pushing the door open.
	Thorn was somewhat taken aback as the door opened.  He was expecting a hall or another room, not a campsite.  Moonlight illuminated a large clearing surrounded by forest.  Ringed around a cooking fire were half a dozen or so wagons, built solidly of wood from top to bottom.  Most had their doors open, and Thorn glimpsed interiors similar to the room he had recently been in.  Glancing back as Jadira hurried him down the stairs, he noted that he had come out of a similar wagon.  In the dim light, Thorn saw it was as brightly painted on the outside as the drapery made it on the inside.  The occasional edge was gilded with either gold or brass, and reflected the dancing firelight into the darkness.  The heady aroma of spicy food filled the air, and Thorn's stomach growled loudly at him.  Jadira giggled.
	She led him to a form sitting on a log in front of the fire with its back to them.  Beside him stood a rakish man dressed in a long robe with a sharp beard.  She released his hand as they drew near.  The sitting figure turned around, revealing itself to be a young man with a worried look on his face.
	"You're awake!" the young man exclaimed, and dropped a plate of food he was eating on the ground in a scramble to stand up.
	Jadira motioned toward the young man.  "Thorn, this is Saneesh."
	Thorn stuck out his hand to shake, and Saneesh took it and pumped vigorously.  "So your name is Thorn is it?  Nice to finally meet you."
	Thorn could not help but smile at Saneesh's open enthusiasm.  "Likewise.  Your sisters told me that I have you to thank for carrying me back to civilization."
	Saneesh released Thorn's hand and waved dismissively.  "It was nothing.  Just a little walk in the woods."
	"Well, I still appreciate it Saneesh.  I'll pay you back somehow when I have the chance."
	Saneesh grinned.  "Don't worry about it.  I'm just glad to help."  He glanced over his shoulder at the pots bubbling over the fire.  "Are you hungry?  There's plenty to eat."
	"I hate to impose after all you all have done for me so far."
	"Silly!" Giggled Jadira, and gave him a playful shove.  "Eat!"
	"Yeah, it'll just go to waste if you don't." Saneesh urged him as well.
	Thorn knew the food probably wouldn't be wasted if he didn't eat it, but he was too tired, too confused, and above all, too hungry to argue.  He nodded in acquiescence, and Saneesh hurriedly began to throw a plate together.  Jadira made him sit down on the log Saneesh had abandoned, then excused herself back to the wagon.  The rakish man with a beard that had been standing over Saneesh studied him for a moment, then turned around and walked into the darkness.
	Saneesh handed the plate of food over to Thorn along with a cup of water.  There was a pile of rice and exotic looking vegetables mixed together with chunks of meat Thorn could not immediately identify.  The aroma of the dish excited his nostrils however, and he decided to eat the food rather than worry about the details.  He tore into the dish, and had it half devoured before he took his first drink of water.
	Saneesh watched him patiently as he ate, and did not speak until Thorn had sat the empty plate beside him with a satisfied sigh.  He had taken a seat on another log diagonal from Thorn's own, and the firelight cast strange dancing shadows across his figure.  Thorn felt uneasy in the quiet stare the other young man was giving him, and he decided to try and break the silence with a little conversation.
	"I would really like to find some way to repay you and your family for all you've done for me.  I don't think I can right now, though," Thorn cast his gaze away into the dark woods in mild embarrassment at his situation, "What you know about me is about as much as I know about me."
	"What do you mean?" Saneesh did not take his eyes off of him.
	"Saneesh," Thorn hesitated a brief moment, still not wanting to trust these people with everything that had happened to him.  He decided to relay a simplified version.  "Something bad has happened to me.  I don't know what it was, or exactly what it did to me.  What I do know is that I don't remember who I am.  It's practically a wonder I know my name is Thorn!  The very first thing I remember is being on that tower."
	"The bump to your head?  I've heard of that causing memory loss."
	"No, it wasn't that.  I remember being on the Tower and being confused about why I was there.  I remember getting dizzy and falling.  Then I was here.  That's it.  That's me as of right now.  So when I say there's no way for me to repay you, there really isn't.  All I have is that pack, and one of the few things I do know is that I've got to keep it."
	Saneesh sat quietly for a moment and Thorn let the silence from human voices fill his ears.  The song of night bugs competed against the sharp crackling of the fire during the lull of conversation.  Finally, Saneesh stood up and paced back and forth, his eyes lowered and his hand on his chin.  For a moment, he reminded Thorn of the older man with the beard from before.  He guessed that must have been Saneesh's father.
	He was lulled into a trance by the sounds of night, and when Saneesh spoke, it startled him.  "Firstly, there is no need to worry about repayment.  I did not carry you on my back through the woods expecting money."
	Thorn shuddered inwardly.  He was reminded by Saneesh's comments of the foul creature in the barren world that had also carried him on its back.
	"Secondly, you will stay with us until you are more prepared to find your own way."  Thorn began to protest, but Saneesh turned away and stared into the night without seeing him.  He continued to talk.  "Father may not like it, but it is my decision and he has to respect it.  I am a man this year, and it is time I began to assert myself."
	Thorn knew that Saneesh was no longer trying to convince him of his decision.  Instead, he appeared to be trying to convince himself.  After a few more moments spent in silence, Saneesh turned back to Thorn, apparently justified of his own decision.
	"It's settled then.  We will be back on the road tomorrow, and into our first business stop by the evening.  We'll leave at dawn, so I suggest you get some rest."  There was a grin on his face, apparently in revelry of convincing himself of this course of action.  Thorn felt there was little point in arguing.
	"Just show me where I sleep."
***
	Thorn awoke with a start to the sound of voices and movement, and bumped his head on the underside of the wagon he had slept under.  Saneesh had given him a bedroll and a blanket the night befoore and suggested that he sleep below his family's wagon incase it rained.  The night held no rain however, and Thorn had laid awake for most of the night, pondering his situation.  He watched the fire shrink as the night wore on, and eventually sputter out, leaving only faintly glowing embers that winked away not long after.  The balmy darkness of a strange summer's night surrounded him completely then, and he had eventually drifted off to sleep.
	Now, crawling out from under the wagon, rubbing his new bruise along with the one he had gained the previous day, Thorn seriously considered purchasing a helmet.  It was not long past daybreak, and while only a few people were already breaking the camp down, more emerged bleary-eyed from wagons each minute.  He spotted Saneesh and his father talking animatedly by a canvas covered cart near the fringes of the campsite, and started walking toward them.  It wasn't until both of them looked up to notice him at the same time that he considered they may have been talking about him.
	"Did you sleep well?" asked Saneesh, with a grin undiminished from the night before.
	"Yeah, thanks." Thorn smiled and looked around the camp, "Anything I can do to help?"
	"Sure is.  I was about to start hitching up the drochs to the wagons.  You can help me there."
	Not sure what a droch was, but still wanting to help, Thorn nodded.  "Alright."
	Saneesh took off across camp, and Thorn followed.  He cast a glance behind him and saw the other young man's father staring after them.  He picked up his pace and fell into step beside his benefactor.
	"I don't think your father likes me being here."
	Saneesh looked at him and shook his head.  "I don't think he dislikes you really.  You just worry him, and this trip is already worrying him enough."
	They broke into the trees, and began following a path toward another clearing Saneesh said was not too far away.
	"What does he worry about?"
	Saneesh sighed, and looked dismal.  "It's a complicated situation, and I should probably start at the beginning, especially if you're going to be with us for a while.  You say you lost your memory.  How much do you remember of what was going on before?"
	Thorn's memory was a blank.  He didn't even know the name of the country they were in, and he told Saneesh as much.
	"Well, over the winter, there was a shake up in the Gelic Church.  Their head priest, they call him the Geldor, died.  Some say it was natural, some say it was murder, but the fact is that he's dead.  The old Geldor was a good man, and kept the Church peaceful and friendly.  This new Geldor is a bit different.  He came from the northern mountains, and he's as hard and cold as they get.  He distrusts just about anybody that isn't from Menodos.  There's a lot of ant-Kipooran sentiment going around these days because of him."
	"Kipooran?"
	Saneesh looked at Thorn, eyes wide.  "You really don't remember anything do you?  Kipoor is the country where my family and I are from.  It's south of Menodos, and the only way to get there from here is by ship."
	Thorn squirreled the information away inside his brain.  "Menodos is the country we're in right now?"
	"Well, yes and no.  We are in Menodos right now, but it's not one country.  It's a large continent split into as many little countries and duchies as there are powerful men to hold them.  The Menodian people are all of one heritage, however, and a lot of outsiders fail to see the minor political differences that separate the continent."
	"So what country are we in then?"
	"We're in Hanton, one of the oldest kingdoms in Menodos.  It stretches from the coast to the Talwart mountains to the north.  It's run by an old duchess that just refuses to die, apparently.  She's as tough as they come, but she keeps the ports safe and taxes fairly, so Father always likes to put in here when we bring the caravan north.  She's a business woman, and I think he respects that."
	Thorn nodded, thinking he understood why Saneesh's father liked dealing with the hard-line duchess.
	"Back to why Father is worried, though.  As I said, the Kipooran people have been demonized by this new Geldor.  A lot of people won't change their minds about us so quickly, but some will.  The fractured nature of the Menodian political landscape means that it's sometimes very difficult to predict how people from different parts of the continent are going to act.  A lot of people would take the advice of their local priest over that of the Geldor any day.  In any case, we've got to be careful, and I guess picking up a stranger from the Tower that can't even remember his last name is not my father's idea of careful."
	Thorn stared at his feet, and knew what Saneesh was saying was true.  He was intruding here, and possibly endangering an entire family.
	Saneesh must have sensed Thorn's drop of mood, because he hastily added, "But having you along might be a good thing.  You look Menodian, and having a native son traveling with us might lend us an air of respectability that we would have otherwise been missing."
	The words did not sound completely hollow, and Thorn took some comfort from that.  Perhaps Saneesh had used that very argument to persuade his father to allow him to stay.  If Saneesh's father had agreed, then there must have been some credence to it.
	They walked in silence for a time, the soft rustle of their booted feet on the leaf-laden forest floor the only sound.  The dew still clung to leaves, and when Thorn's bare arm brushed against the occasional low hanging limb, cool beads of water cascaded over his exposed skin.  Inexplicably, he felt happy.  Even though he had no memories or possesions, and was relying solely on the charity of someone he had met only yesterday, Thorn still felt it was a great day to be alive.
	A couple of minutes of easy walking later they emerged into the clearing, and found neat rows of jet black horses tied to posts.
	"So these are drochs?" Thorn asked.
	"Yeah, they are.  We camp here every year during the caravan and decided a couple of summers back to set up these posts for them."
	Saneesh waved at the tree-line toward something Thorn could not see.  There was a hint of movement, and Thorn saw a hand emerge from the foliage and wave back.
	"We have to keep a watch on the drochs at all times.  They fetch a ransom on the black market here, enough so that a lot of people are willing to steal them."
	Thorn was perplexed.  He had decided that droch was just another name for horse, but now he was lost again.
	Saneesh walked to the nearest line, and untied one, handing it's reins to Thorn.  He moved down the line and took another one for himself, and the two began leading them back to the camp.  The droch followed obediently, keeping a good pace with him.  The sun was fast climbing into the sky, and by the time they returned to the camp, it was practically buzzing with people scurrying around, getting ready to leave.  Thorn spotted Jadira at the fire, adding some spices to a large bubbling pot cooking over it.  She straightened up and waved, grinning broadly.  Thorn waved back, as did Saneesh.
	They took the drochs to the front of Saneesh's family's wagon.  Thorn was expecting to spend some time wrestling them into position, but he had barely begun to move toward the spot he thought the droch needed to stand when the big animal trotted in front of him and stood perfectly still in the exact spot Thorn had planned on placing it.  He looked wide-eyed at the beast, who in turn stared blankly forward.
	Testing to see how docile the steed actually was, Thorn slowly relaxed his grip on the reins, and let them slide out of his hands to the ground.  The droch continued to stand still.  Not letting his eyes off the frozen creature, he crept back to the wagon and hefted one of the heavy collars there to place on the droch.  Slowly, he inched back to the animal, and finally, with one swift motion, he slung the collar over its neck.
	The droch stood perfectly still.
	Thorn looked over his shoulder and saw that Saneesh was having as equally easy of a time.  His droch also stood still as he placed the collar on it and began to fasten the rest of the straps.  Thorn turned back around and busied himself with the same.
	When he decided the animal was secure, he walked around to the front of it and spoke soothing words of thanks to it while rubbing its nose.  The beast tossed its head in apparent appreciation, sending its black mane streaming in the air.  When it brought its face down to be rubbed again, Thorn was startled at what he saw.  Previously hidden under a frock of the creature's hair, and sitting right in the middle of its head, was a large, unblinking, third eye.  It was almond shaped, with a golden iris floating in its exact center.  Thorn could only stare.
	"Saneesh?" He called hesitantly.  His friend hurried over from where he was checking on something back at the wagon.   "What is that?" he said pointing at the offending eye.
	"Oh, you don't remember that either?  That's the droch's third eye, obviously."
	"I didn't know drochs had third eyes."
	"Yeah," Saneesh said smiling, "that's what makes them special."  He reached up and mussed the mane back down over the eye.  "We usually like to keep it hidden, on account that people aren't certain whether they're drochs until they see the eye."
	Thorn nodded, still transfixed by the eye.  If they were a valuable species, it would be best to keep them hidden.
	"The legend of the droch centers around their third eye.  The droch never stumbles or spooks, and always seems to do exactly what you want it to.  The legend, and many people believe it, says that the droch's third eye allows it to see into the future, and is always ready for what comes next." Saneesh rubbed the side of the animal's face.  "It could be so.  Of course, it could also just be a smart horse with a weird eye.  Who knows?"
	"Come on," Saneesh slapped him on the back, "I think breakfast is about ready and then we'll take out."
	The two walked back to the fire, where Jadira and two other women Thorn had not met were handing out  mugs full of a hot, tart liquid from the pot and a round bread roll filled with spicy meat.  He and Saneesh helped themselves, and then vacated back to the wagon to sit on the steps and eat.  Thorn found the meal delicious, and asked what the drink was.
	"It's called goma juice, or just goma.  It's brewed up from mixing a few common fruits and beans from Kipoor, and then boiling them with water.  A lot of Kipoorans drink it in the morning, because it gives you energy."
	Thorn took a large swallow of goma and felt the warmth seep through him.  "It's really good.  I think I'd like to visit Kipoor, if everything there tastes so good."
	Saneesh cast a dark gaze out to the forest.  "It's not so great."
	The boys finished their breakfast quickly.  Thorn stood up, ready to get back to work, but Saneesh asked him to wait a moment, and darted inside the wagon.  He emerged holding a shoulder bag, two large sacks, and Thorn's bright red bundle.  He handed Thorn his bundle and one of the bags.  Thorn slung his pack over his shoulder and tucked the bag through his belt.
	"We're ready to leave?" he asked, glancing around that camp at the work still being done.  "We're not helping?"
	"They can manage this without us.  You and I have some other work to do."
	Thorn was satisfied to be helping in any way possible, so he said nothing and merely followed Saneesh back towards the trail that led to the field where the drochs were tied.  As they reached the edge of the camp, however, Saneesh's father emerged from the trees leading two of the large ebony beasts behind him.  Saneesh stopped and waved.
	"There you are.  Here, I went ahead and brought your mounts."
	Thorn realized it was the first time he had heard the man speak, and was amazed at how little of the strange accent there was tinting his words.  Saneesh and his sisters were perfectly understandable, but there voices were clearly exotic.  Had he not be listening to Saneesh speak for the last two days, Thorn doubted he would have been able to distinguish an accent there at all.
	"Thank you, Father."  Saneesh accepted the reins of the two horses and passed one off to Thorn.
	"We will meet you at the Parched Quail Inn in Stranhome at sundown.  Be careful out there, and do try not to bring any more strays home with you."  With that, the man strode easily off back toward camp without a second glance.
	Saneesh glowered after his father, long after he had disappeared into the bustle of camp.  Thorn stared down at his feet.
	"That man..." Saneesh began, screwing up his face, "He has no right to talk to you or I like that."
	Thorn said nothing, but merely watched in silence as his friend fumed after his father.  After a time, the other boy turned back to him, a look of determination on his face.
	"Can you ride?"
	It took a moment for the question to sink in, and Thorn found himself struggling to play catch up.  "Uh, yeah...I think so."
	Saneesh hoisted himself up into his droch's saddle.  Thorn stepped into the stirrup of his animal and pulled himself up as well.  The two moved their mounts into a slow walk and skirted the edge of the camp, emerging on the hard-packed road that headed north.
	The sun was well into the eastern sky, and as the lively sounds of the camp faded behind them, Thorn was suddenly aware of how beautiful a day it was.  All manner of insects droned their songs from the branches ahead and brightly colored birds darted from limb to limb in brilliant flashes of movement.  Saneesh seemed as enamored as he was with the the forest, and would sometimes twist around backwards in his saddle with a dull screech of leather to catch a last parting glimpse of something as the two rode on.  The anxiety over his intrusion into Saneesh's family's lives, his inability to remember his past, it all fell away amongst the gentle onslaught of natural splendor, and he was able for a while to forget his strange situation.
	"Let me tell you about what we're doing, Thorn." said Saneesh suddenly, snapping Thorn out of his reverie.
	"Go ahead." he replied, deciding he'd like to know what their mission for the day was.
	"So as you know, my family is on a trade caravan right now.  Everyone back there is related to me in some way or another, but it's my father who runs things."
	Thorn nodded.  He had gathered as much.
	"We leave home at the beginning of Kipooran summer and sail north to Menodos.  We bring all kinds of Kipooran goods that can't be found here in Menodos.  Silks, dyes, spices, and the like all fetch a hefty price.  Once we arrive in Menodos, we keep a very strict schedule, down to the day.  There is a festival here, celebrated all over the continent, that marks the beginning of summer - most people just call it the Sun Festival.  The people gauge when the celebration will be by the first blooming of the hycenth tree.  This tree blooms later the farther north one travels.  Father devised a route that allows for the caravan to be in more than a dozen Sun Festivals in different towns, all along the eastern half of the Menodos continent.  We accomplish this merely be traveling north at a certain pace on certain roads.  We'll be in the town for our first stop tommorow."
	It made good business sense, Thorn had to admit.  People had a tendency to spend more during festival times, and a Kipooran trade caravan bringing rare and exotic items that people might otherwise consider frivolous any other day of their lives could expect to do brisk business during such an event.
	Thorn twisted in saddle to stretch his back.  "That still doesn't explain what we're doing out by ourselves."
	"Ah," said Saneesh, brightening up, "I was getting to that.  Not everything we sell as rare Kipooran goods are actually from Kipoor.  In fact, a few of our more profitable herbs and spices come from right here on Menodos.
	I've discovered that some of the rather common plants that grow here have medicinal and culinary properties that few of the locals know about.  It is therefore my job, and this year, yours as well, to gather these plants to sale when we set up shop at the Sun Festival."
	The drochs continued to plod down the hard packed trail until they reached a small wooden bridge over a stream that gurgled pleasantly as it skipped through its rocky bed.
	Saneesh as much as jumped off his mount's back, plopping down hard on the dusty trail.  "This looks like a good place," he announced cheerily.
	Thorn followed his lead and dismounted as well.  The two lead their drochs by the reins down the the slope beside the bridge and into the creek.  Thorn felt the cold water seep through the leather of his boots and swirl around his ankles as Saneesh led them into the woods, splashing along, and watching the sides of the bank intently.
	They disturbed all manner of wildlife as they sloshed unceremoniously down their liquid path.  Bird took flight, turtles dove under water for cover, and frogs silenced up at the sight of the young men.  Thorn had considered that Saneesh might use the presence of certain animals to discern where some of the plants might be growing, but his friend paid little attention to the fleeing animals.  When he finally did come to a stop, Thorn could not discern anything special about their immediate surroundings.
	Saneesh told him to leave his droch in the water and the two of them scrambled up the left side of the creek to dry land.  Saneesh pulled the leather book Thorn had seen him with earlier out of his long jacket and sat down on the ground.  Thorn followed, sitting cross legged, and watched his friend flip through the yellowing pages.  Finally he sat it down open in between them and turned the book so Thorn could see it.  On the page was a drawing of a plant in black ink with notes in a spidery hand that marched in neat rows across the paper.  Crammed into the margins and between lines was further writings, these in blue ink, of a decidedly less neat manner.
	"This is alith," Saneesh explained, "and I want you to look for it.  There's nothing else that you could mistake it for.  It usually grows near the base of trees.  Pick as much of it as you can if you find some.  It sells well, and usually brings in a good profit, so you'll want to get a lot.  I convinced father to let you keep a portion of any money we make off of herb sells that you help collect." Thorn began to protest, but Saneesh held up his hand, "It's only fair you're reimbursed for your help.  We'll keep some of the gold, but you will get the rest.  Besides, the caravan won't be in Menodos forever, and if you haven't found your home by the time we leave, you're going to need money."
	Thorn was a bit surprised that Saneesh's father would allow a single coin to leave his grip, and decided that Saneesh was either a very persuasive debater, or that his father was a kinder person than he appeared.
	"There's another plant I'm going to look for on the other side, because I think I remember finding some over there the last time we passed this way."  Saneesh picked up the book and  placed it reverentially into Thorn's hands.  "You take the book since it may help you.  I've pretty much got it all up here at this point." He tapped at his head.
	The two split and Saneesh disappeared into the trees on the other side of the creek.  Thorn looked intently at the picture of the alith, memorizing its shape, and then stood up to begin his search.  Almost immediately he was back down on his knees again, laughing to himself.  Saneesh had sat down right beside a patch of the small herbs, probably an attempt at a joke.  Thorn ripped them up from the base and began stuffing his bag with his harvest.
	Before long the alith was gone, and Thorn sat off to find more.  Behind the first tree he checked, he found another group of the plants, crawling up and over its roots.  Another short time spent crawling on the damp ground and he found his bag even more full.  Saneesh had given him too easy of a task, to be sure.  Almost without fail, every tree he checked had a tiny forest of alith plants spread under its limbs.  Pulling them out of the ground and throwing them in his bag over and over, Thorn wondered if alith was generally this easy to find, and how it could be worth anything if it was.
	When the alith finally filled the bag, Thorn tied the top and walked back to the stream.   The two drochs stood stoically in the middle, but Saneesh was nowhere to be seen.  He had probably ranged out too far searching for the plants he wanted.  Thorn plopped down on the creek's bank, placing his burdens beside him.  Pulling off his boots, he let his feet dangle in the water, the current gently massaging them.  After a moment, he pulled his own mysterious pack into his lap.
	He ran his fingers along the soft red fabric, feeling the ambiguous hardness hidden beneath.  Try as he might, he could not discern the identity of the object wrapped up inside the bundle.  The Root Woman had told him not to open the pack until there was no other choice, but he briefly toyed with the idea.  Toying with the knotted rope, he let out a sigh and sat it aside.  There was another choice, at least right now.  He could read Saneesh's book on plants.
	It turned out to be pretty dry, but Thorn managed to enjoy it none-the-less.  The interaction between the main text and the comments added in the messier hand proved to be quite entertaining.  He guessed the scrawled edits were Saneesh's notes on each plant as he discovered them.  Only a few pages did not have his friend's mark on them, the rest were nearly covered.  Sometimes the Kipooran had gone as far as marking out whole paragraphs of text and replacing them with contradictory information.  As the original writer of the text was not around to defend themself, Saneesh's messy comments stood, seemingly defiant of the neat hand of the author.
	Eventually his feet got cold and clammy from being in the water, so he pulled them out and dug them back down in his boots.  He began to wonder afterwards if the drochs were getting cold as well.  He didn't know a lot about equines, drochs in particular, and wondered if they would move if they got uncomfortable.  He had just decided to lead them out onto the bank when Saneesh reappeared over the crest of the hill across the steam.   He waved to Thorn, who waved back at him, and jogged down the slope.
	He held up a bulging bag from the other bank to show Thorn.  "Made some good finds!  Found three different kinds of plants I was looking for and about filled up my sack.  How about you?"
	Thorn scooped up his own bag and presented it proudly.  "All filled up!"
	Thorn could see Saneesh's jaw drop.  "You filled up?  With alith?"
	"Yeah!"
	Thorn got showered with cold water as Saneesh splashed quickly across the stream and hopped up on his side.  He took the bag from Thorn and jerked it open.  After he had inspected the contents he laughed sharply and thrust the bag back into Thorn's hands.
	"You really did!  That's amazing!  Alith is really rare around these parts, I usually don't find much until we get into the mountains.  When we sell this - and believe me, we will - you're going to have a good bit of coin in your pocket."
	Thorn pointed towards the last patch he had found.  "I didn't quite harvest all of the last patch, since my bag got full.  There's more over there."
	Saneesh decided to top off his bag with what was left, promising Thorn the profits would go to him since he made the find.  While he was scrambling around on the ground harvesting it, Thorn spoke up.
	"So you didn't sit next to a patch of it on purpose when we got here?"
	Saneesh looked up.  "Did I?  Wow, I didn't even notice.  I must be slipping."  he barked a laugh and went back to pulling up plants.
	Thorn chuckled a bit to himself, and turned away from his friend to look back across the forest.  The silence, broken only by the sounds of snapping roots as Saneesh worked, suddenly made him very uneasy.  He cast his mind about for the source of his trepidation, but found no answers.  He glanced at the drochs, remembering Saneesh had said they might be able to see the future.  If there was anything wrong, they would probably be reacting somehow.
	They stood as still as ever.
	Never the less, he felt inclined to speak up.  "Saneesh, why don't we move on?  I'm getting a bad feeling about this place."
	His friend was already standing up, brushing his robe off.  "Sure, I'm done.  But why?  Did you see something?"
	Thorn scanned the area, realizing the dense green foliage could hide any number of things.  But no, he had not seen anything.  There was just something strange in his head.
	"Not really, but the sooner we get moving, the sooner I'll feel better."
	Suddenly serious, Saneesh nodded.  "Alright, let's go then.  We're full up anyway.  Next stop, the Parched Quail."

***

	The road became more and more crowded the closer the two got to town.  Saneesh explained to Thorn that the town's name was Ristledown, and that it served as a hub for the various smaller rural communities scattered throughout the region.  The road slowly widened and became rutted, and the forest fell away to its sides, making way for vast expanses of farm land.
	Their fellow travelers brimmed with excitement, often throwing them a friendly wave, or calling greetings.  Thorn responded amiably, enjoying the atmosphere.  Saneesh was polite, if not outspoken, and seemed happy enough to let Thorn be the outward face of their little group.  The two steered through the ever-increasing crowd, their stoic mounts weaving a steady path in the hustle.  Astride the tall drochs, the majority of unmounted people stood barely as high as Thorn's knees, and he felt as if he were but a piece of flotsam, being swirled along the rapids of some wild mountain stream.
	They were in Ristledown before Thorn knew it, as no walls or markers declared its outer limits.  Suddenly there were squat stone houses fencing the road, whitewashed with red tile roofs.  Small businesses appeared, their doors open and hawkers calling for the flow of visitors to come inside and have a cool drink, to buy their pretty lady a new dress, or perhaps to rent a room while they were in town.  The din was incredible.  Saneesh pointed out the intertwining steeples of the local Gelic church, rising out of the forest just outside of town.
	The Parched Quail was a tall building, rising three stories above the hustle of town, and matched by few enough buildings that it stood out from its neighbors.  It's lower story was the same kind of stone block structure as most of the other houses in Ristledown.  The two stories that sat on top were wooden and painted a friendly green color.  They hung out over the edge of the bottom floor and shaded a wide porch that encircled the entire building.  A sign bearing the name of the establishment swung lazily from a pole protruding from the side of the building over the main entrance, and featured an image of a bird that Thorn thought looked more dead than thirsty.
	Upon seeing the two stop, a small boy bolted from the porch where he was playing a game with another child, and offered to take the reins of the drochs.  Thorn hesitated, but Saneesh dismounted and told him to do the same.   Thorn warily handed his steed over to the boy, who, upon closer inspection, seemed out to be Kipooran.  The stableboy bobbed a slight bow, and led their mounts behind the building.  Thorn watched them go.
	Saneesh clapped him on the shoulders.  "Don't worry, the family that runs the Quail are personal friends of ours.  They're Kipooran, in case you didn't guess, and they never let anyone know we use drochs to pull our wagons."
	Thorn nodded.  "Glad to hear it."
	"Well, here we are in any case.  I wonder if the rest of the caravan has made it yet?"
	The two walked up the small set of stairs to the porch and through the double doors that were thrown wide open.  The common area was huge, and looked like it took up the better part of the bottom floor.  The windows were wide open, letting in light and air, and the hearth was cold on this summer day.  Although Thorn did not think it was any sort of time for people to be spending time in some inn's bar, there were quite a few people around, eating, drinking, and talking merrily.  He stood just inside the threshold for a moment, blinking his eyes to adjust to the relative shade.
	Before long, someone had spotted them, and a shrill cry split the air.
	"Saneesh!"  There was a barreling movement toward them, the blur of a colorful dress, and Saneesh was suddenly born up into the arms of a large, round faced woman.  She seemed inclined to crush his friend with her hug, but Saneesh was hugging back with a smile on his face.
	When she finally sat his friend down, a little ragged for the wear, but happy enough, she stepped back to stand beside a thin man that Thorn had not noticed before.  They were both Kipooran, but they shared little enough beyond that.  She was a hand-span taller than he, well rounded and flush in the face, and wore the bright garb Thorn had come to associate with the Kipooran people.  He was smaller, thin and dark, and reminded Thorn of Saneesh's father apart from the wide grin splitting his face.
	"Glad to see you, Saneesh," the man said, shaking the young man's hand, "It's always a happy time when the Habeeni caravan comes through town.  You'll be wanting the usual block of rooms, I assume?"
	"Oh, Wanee, always with the business.  Can't you see the lads need a good meal in them?" The woman glared at the shorter man.
	"Of course, excuse me.  You're not quite your father, are you Saneesh?" He said good-naturedly.  Thorn could see the shadow flicker across Saneesh's face.
	"If they've not arrived yet, I don't mind setting up the arrangements." He smiled and nodded at the woman, "Though I'm sure we would both like something to eat, Meera."
	"Good, good.  But just who is your companion?  I don't believe we've met before."
	"Oh, I'm sorry.  This is Thorn." Saneesh gestured toward Thorn, "He's traveling with us this year."
	Thorn nodded and said "Hello," to the couple, but they wouldn't leave it at that.  Meera had to bear hug him, and Wanee had to give his hand a good shake before they let them sit down at an empty table.  Wanee went off to fill some drinks at the bar, and Meera disappeared into the steaming kitchen behind it, where Thorn could hear her calling out for some food to be made quickly.
	Saneesh smiled after them a moment, "Nice couple, aren't they?  We stay here every year as we pass through."
	Thorn had to admit they were likable.  Good nature permeated the air around the Parched Quail, a good nature that he was sure Meera and Wanee worked very hard to maintain.  Absentmindedly, he ran his hands over the smoothed surface of the wood table.
	In a few minutes, Meera returned and personally served them each a plate and a large mug of ale.  Saneesh got an odd smelling concoction of strange vegetables Thorn learned was called "tosh", and he got a hearty stew with bread and a cheese wedge.  She laughed as she sat it in front of him.
	"Thought it might be more to your liking.  Few enough Menodians like Kipooran food, let alone tosh."  Thorn thanked her and did not mention that every meal he could remember eating had been Kipooran cuisine.
	After she went back to the kitchen, the two dug in.  The food was good and filling, the ale cool and refreshing.  During the course of the meal, Saneesh explained between bites of tosh that they stayed here for two nights and rented enough rooms for half the caravan's number to sleep in.  They rotated the occupants between nights so everyone would have a chance to get a good night's sleep outside of the wagons and use the baths at the inn.  The next part of their journey had to be completed quickly to arrive in time for the next festival and they did not stop often during it.
	After they finished their foods and the plates were cleared away, Wanee appeared at the table to see if Saneesh was ready to set down the arrangements of their stay.  Saneesh told Thorn he might be a while, as Kipooran business negotiations tended to be long and convoluted.  Thorn took the hint and scooped up his mug, still half full, and walked out to the front porch.  There were a number of ladder-backed chairs scattered around the porch, and Thorn took one and propped his feet up on the banister.  The stableboy had returned and he and the other boy had resumed their game, which appeared to be a strange mixture of marbles and dice.
	The crowd surged by in the road, like cows being herded.  Thorn assumed many would stay with relatives, or camp out where they could find space, but many would surely find their way into one inn or another.  The town was only so big, and he couldn't see it supporting many inns, especially as large as the Quail.  Yet, as the people milled about, rushing their separate ways, very few seemed to make their way into the open doors to the common room.  He took a long sip of ale and pondered.  Did anti-Kipooran sentiment truly run so deep in the hearts of the Menodian people?
	Yet as he thought, a figure peeled off from the crowd and approached the inn, almost in direct opposition to his internal dialogue.  It wasn't until the figure had entered into the shade of the porch that he recognized it as Saneesh's father.  Sweat beaded on his face, and road dust  clung to him in a fine layer.  He cast a quick glance down at Thorn, who suddenly felt very self-aware of being kicked back with a beer in the shade, and rearranged himself quickly into sitting straight up.
	"My son is inside?" It held no malice, but no hint of warmth either.
	"Uh, yes, Mr. Habeeni.  He's working out the details of renting rooms with Mr. Wanee."
	"I'll bet he is." His voice was an angry growl.  Trailing dust and the hem of his long coat snapping behind him, he plunged through the double doors and into the darkness within.
	Thorn found himself sitting beside a sour-faced Saneesh moments later, who seemed to have been forcibly removed from the business inside.  Saneesh clutched his mug with both hands, staring into it with an unwavering intensity.
	"What happened?" Thorn ventured, not sure if he should be speaking at all.
	"Oh, Father is worried I was too inexperienced at negotiations to get us a fair price on the rooms.  Even among friends, the process of haggling for prices is observed to its fullest extent, though I don't think Wanee would have ripped us off even if I was a terrible negotiator."
	There was silence for a moment.
	"Which I'm not."
	"Of course," was all that Thorn could think to say.

***

	It was late before the last of Saneesh's family wandered out of the common room, either to one of the rooms upstairs and a nice bed, or back to the familiar surroundings of the wagons.  Saneesh sat with Thorn at a table by an open window, absentmindedly playing a game of warstones and listening to the quiet of the night.  Occasionally the sounds of a party not quite over drifted in with the breeze, but after such a busy day, the relative silence was bliss.  Stabling the drochs, getting the tents set up for the next day's festival, dealing with his father, and everything else that had come up since getting to town had not given him time to stop until well after the sun had settled behind the western hills.
	He glanced back down at the game board, and knew it was over.  Thorn's army had grown to nearly twice his own, and had just captured a square that would allow him to attack three spaces forward at once his next turn.  His mysterious friend had beaten him three times in a row, and Saneesh thought that for a man with no memories of his own, Thorn certainly knew more than a thing or two about warstones.  Not that he had been focused on the game enough to offer up any sort of competition, but Saneesh could tell by the way he studied the board for long moments before declaring each attack that his friend was weighing each move with all seriousness.