Patriotism. Devon rolled the word over in her mind as the others talked. What a lie. Though the girl in the blue velvet dress, too finely made to suggest that she was a commoner, had taken the word at face value and had believed her. Devon glanced at the girl. She was talking to the winged creature, whose delicate fairy features did not conceal her excitement. Another girl, covered with iridescent scales, watched as two men carried off the body of the man she had just slaughtered. Devon couldn't decipher the snake girl's expression. Calhan's eyes scanned the tavern, probably searching for the cat lady, the Myr'l so they were called, who had disappeared into the crowd.

How did I get into this mess? She supposed it was what the girl had said. Life itself is a fight against death. The one line that connected Devon with her godfather. How could be that the girl knew of it too?

"Excuse me," Calhan interrupted the little gathering. "Since you have all committed yourselves to this journey that will possibly cost you your lives, shouldn't you first get each other's names?"

"Right. I'm Devon."

"Doku," said the snake-like girl.

"My name's Damia. Ria and I already know each other," the fairy pointed to the dark-haired girl.

"There is hole in the plan," said Doku. "How do we do what you suggest? How do we go to Tyball?"

Devon thought. "Perhaps we can travel on horseback and cross the Faylinn forest. It will only take us a fortnight or two if we ride swiftly."

"No no no!" cried Damia. "Faylinn is my home I ran away from, and they would find me for sure if we went that way!"

Ria looked at a loss. "I think the Myr'l and her mercenaries would've known what to do."

Calhan had been chatting with other people in the tavern up to now, and at the mention of the mercenaries he returned his attention.

"I have an idea," he whispered to them.

"At dawn of the following day, the Tyballan merchant ship Karanene will sail from Achryn docks. The King is gathering his street armies, foreign mercenaries, and anyone else he can find to load on the Karanene. They will sail at dawn and launch a surprise attack on Tyball from the North."

"The King is doing all that?" Ria breathed, eyes wide.

Devon gaped at him. "How do you know this?"

Calhan smiled and casually shifted his eyes over to the fellows he had been just conversing with. Devon realized that they were Hans and Jerome, merchant lords of the black trade between Tyball and the Rogues.

"I know what you're thinking," noticed Calhan, "and I don't deny it. The usual…goods… will be on that ship. And it's about time too, according to Hans and Jerome. They've been severely backlogged with this war."

"What? What goods?" Ria was confused.

Calhan continued. "With all the risk of the transaction, they say that they probably will be on the ship to oversee it themselves."

"We board the Karanene then?" said Doku.

"Wait!" Ria shifted her eyes to Hans and Jerome. They grinned back at her. Jerome winked. Ria shuddered. "I don't like the sound of this. Those men…those men are up to no good."

"Come on, Ria. This is our best chance," insisted Devon.

"I refuse to be on the same ship with those two."

"I personally find Hans and Jerome very amusing fellows," said Calhan.

"And the mercenaries! Foreign savages! Who knows what else...assassins, Rogues, common thieves? If you think we could share living quarters with them for an entire ship's journey, you are sadly mistaken," Ria said to Calhan.

Calhan threw up his hands. "Fine, have it your way. I was only trying to help." He looked at Devon with an expression that seemed to say it all. Who does she think she is?

Doku spoke up. "We cannot come to an agreement, so maybe I return tomorrow. I have things to do."
"Fine, fine," Ria said faintly.

"Tomorrow then." Doku left.

Devon felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned to face a pasty-faced man whom she recognized as a lower-ranked Rogue.

"Devon, a brawl broke out at the Guildhall. Two are badly injured and need your attention straightaway," he said, out of breath.

Calhan smirked. "The party turned nasty, did it?"

The man looked Calhan up and down. "You may want to come too," he said, giving him a significant stare.

--

A cool breeze stirred the moonlit night. The sound of Devon, Calhan, and the Rogue's footfalls on the cobblestones echoed in the quiet streets. They hurried wordlessly towards the Guildhall.

Suddenly, Devon stopped and motioned for the others to do the same. They heard footsteps that were not their own. In a matter of seconds, Ria and Damia appeared out of the darkness and joined them.

"You were following us!" cried the pasty-faced Rogue.

Damia's fairy face glowed. "If you would be so kind as to let me and Ria stay at your home for the night, Devon. You see, I just remembered that we need a place to stay until we leave for Tyball…If we leave for Tyball."

Ria was resentful. "Well, it's not so bad as that, Damia. We could have stayed at the Iron Door tonight."

"And be abused by more drunkards? Are you crazy, Ri? Don't make me have to save your life a second time!"

"I have no objections to them staying with us. But I think Ria would have severe objections to us and our lodgings." Devon glanced at her gloomily.

"Try me," declared Ria.

As they walked further, the dilapidated wood-planked inn that was the Guildhall came into view.

"Welcome to our humble abode," said Calhan.

--

The doors of the inn opened onto a rowdy gathering in the dining hall. They were mostly Rogues, but travellers and others from town had joined in on the festivities. All the tables were full and barmaids were rushing to fill orders and tankards. Several men had joined in a bawdy drinking song at the bar. Others were noisily making bets around the huge stone fireplace. A music troupe squeezed out a lively dance tune. Coins clattered. Hounds barked. Laughter filled the din of voices. Big parties at the Guildhall usually coincided with big Rogue's Guild meetings. Devon saw Calhan discreetly slip away upstairs.

Ria looked around the room, an expression of disgusted horror on her face. "You live here? Just what exactly are you people?"

"We're Rogues. No better than common thieves to you, I'm afraid," said Devon. "The inn's bedchambers are upstairs. Shall I show you yours and Damia's?"

Ria looked indignant. "The Rogues' headquarters! Absolutely not. I mean, no offence to you Devon, but you must understand I am not used to such dirty crowded conditions such as these."

"Come on, Ria, let's make the best of it," soothed Damia. She cheerfully approached a group of men and women and asked if they would like to see a "magic trick." Ria, disgusted, went to a small table in the corner of the hall and regarded them haughtily.

Devon went to the two men lying behind the bar. One was barely conscious and the other had a broken nose and a black eye.

She groaned. "Darrel and Seth again. Don't you two ever keep your fists to themselves?"

" 'e darted dit." Darrel mumbled.

"Whatever. Keep quiet; I'm almost finished. I just have to run to my room to fetch some gauze."

The second story of the inn housed about a dozen bedchambers and several gathering rooms. As Devon walked down the hallway to her own chamber, she heard snippets of one side of a conversation in the largest gathering room, where presumably the Guild meeting was taking place.

"...Three years I've sent you out and all for nothing..."

"...Should've let them kill you off..."

"...Cowardly action..."

"...What about the other spies..."

"...What does she know about it? Get that girl in here."

The door to the gathering room opened abruptly and Devon was caught like a stunned deer.

"Well, well. Already knows more than she should. Come in and shut the door."

Clutching an armful of bandages and gauze, she entered upon the large assembly of men and women Rogues seated around the large round plank table and standing about the room. They were all too tired or too astonished to be talking amongst themselves, and thus were all paying careful attention to Elder Black's tirade upon Calhan. Devon could not read Calhan's expression. He seemed calm. The other three Elders, Green, Brown, and White, were seated next to Black and nodding complacently. Devon was surprised to see all four Elders present at a Guild meeting.

Black began the interrogation on his new subject. Devon gave all she knew of the Rogue deaths, the Myr'l Elira, the loose-tongued spies, and the details of Calhan's failed mission.

"How much did Calhan tell you?" he pressed on the last topic.

"I don't remember the details, but I do recall him saying that the espionage efforts were too passive. I was to understand that Tyball knows that our inaction is futile, and that we need to incur real damages in order to control Tyball's spread."

Black banged his fist on the table. "There! Why didn't the fool tell us that himself! That is what I have been saying all along. We need action, not spies!"

"We would have even fewer weapons and trained cavalry if it weren't for the information the mission gained. Action would be appropriate now, but three years ago direct assault would have bought Achryn a death sentence," said Calhan.

Elder White spoke up. "But what of the Karanene? They are setting sail not this dawn, but the next. Is it safe to deliver the shipment as usual?"

"It will be risky," said Hans, "but we will personally see to it that they land on Tyballan soil unscathed."

"There's seven full crates of pure dried root powder. It will fetch a handsome price," grinned Jerome.

"I've been thinking," interrupted Elder Brown. "Is it not rumoured that the King of Tyball is using dark magic to fuel his power?"

The contemplative silence that followed was broken by Elder Black.

"Alright Calhan. Listen closely. If you want to keep your job," said Black, "you will return to Tyball and finished what you started three years ago."

"You want me to station myself on the Karanene." It was more a statement than a question.

"Precisely, Calhan. I want you and your spies to finish what you started. Go to Tyball. Find the source of the King's power. Get it. Destroy it. And then," breathed Elder Black, "we may save Achryn from fall."

This was received with commotion among the non-patriots.

"What's bloody Achryn done for us lately?"

"Whose side are we on anyway?"

"We've got to help ourselves, never mind helping King Nathon!"

"Rogues don't kiss arse, and this sounds like arse-kissin'!"

"Quiet!" Devon's voice pierced through the din. "Don't you get it? This door behind me is Achryn. The table you're sitting at is Achryn." She went to the window and gestured past the open shutters. "The trees, the soil, this Guildhall is Achryn! This is the place where your fathers died and your children born. If Achryn is lost, do you think we will remain? How can we help ourselves if we are lost to Tyball? Helping Achryn is not something to be ashamed of. Helping Achryn is helping ourselves!"

A brief silence followed. Calhan met Devon's eyes, conveying all his feelings in one look.

"I hope, Calhan, that you are not too attached," said Elder Green pointedly, "to Achryn. If you fail, you may never return to see it in its present splendour."

"If he fails, no one will ever see it the same way again," said Devon. Then she quietly left the room.

As she passed through the doorway, Elder Green had gotten up to whisper after her, "I hope you are not too attached either, my dear; it was not in your job description!"

Devon bounded down the hall, feeling extremely perturbed, only to bump into Ria at the top of the stairs.

"You have been eavesdropping all along? I could…" threatened Devon.

"Yes," declared Ria, "I heard it all. I heard what you said about helping Achryn and helping ourselves." She smiled. "I am impressed by your patriotism."

"As am I," muttered Devon, embarrassed. As they descended the stairs together, a man seated at the bar glanced up towards them and caught Ria's eye. He seemed confused, as if he would recognize her under different circumstances. Devon felt Ria's steps falter.

In the dining hall, Damia was laughing, surrounded by a crowd of appreciative onlookers. One man had apparently just sprouted green whiskers.

"Ria!" She shouted gleefully and beckoned them from the base of the stairs. "Come here, it is the most funny joke!" Ria ran to her and hushed her quickly. Devon saw her throw a pair of panic-stricken eyes upon the man at the bar. He was now watching Ria closely.

"Do you know that man at the bar?" Devon asked her.

"I wish I didn't," she hissed. "Devon, when does the Karanene set off? We have to leave now."

--

The following day passed uneventfully. Ria and Damia stayed hidden in Ria's bedchamber at Ria's insistence. Devon tended to ill Rogues in her room. They would be the last patients she would have for a long time. How to tell the Elders that she would request to leave her post as official Rogue healer? How to tell them that she was possibly never coming back to reclaim it?

"They'll learn to look after themselves," said Damia.

--

That night they met Doku. When they told her the plans, she merely nodded and patted her already-packed satchel. Devon distributed black hooded cloaks that she had obtained.

The sun would not rise for a few hours yet. The air as they neared the sea was tinged with the odour of fish and brine. The dock was full of soldiers and mercenaries near the boarding entrances. It attracted attention for a small merchant ship like the Karanene. The red and black Tyballan flag atop the mast flapped ominously in the moonless night.

"There's a Rogues' entrance near the cargo hold," whispered Devon to the others.

Several cloaked figures were gathered near the cargo hold. Some were loading crates into the bowels of the ship. Devon noticed Doku take careful notice of the crates. Devon and the others approached the loading ramp, where two Rogues were keeping guard.

"Is there room for a few more?" Devon addressed one of the cloaked Rogues.

He looked up. The hood fell to reveal Calhan's face. He had a look of surprise and amusement, hope mixed with desperation.

"Right this way." He led them through the loading entrance and through a hallway to their cargo hold that was to be their sleeping quarters. The room was gloomy and dank, the wall sconces casting eerie shadows on the travel-worn mercenaries who had started to fill in. Ria sniffed disdainfully and settled in a quiet corner. Doku warily eyed Hans, Jerome, Calhan, and two of his spies who surrounded them in protection.

"You would've boarded this ship without saying goodbye?" Devon asked Calhan.

"Well, there's no longer a need to say it," he laughed. "We're all in the same boat now."