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who’s been gravely hurt. Once there was a healer who lived here, a woman who would never have turned away one in need. Has she vanished as well, like everything else of good in this city?”
    The halfling’s gaze took in the limp form of the Harper, and his wide-spaced brown eyes softened somewhat, though they remained resolute. “Come back in the morning.”
    “Gods, man, she may not have until morning!” Caledan bellowed in exasperation. He took an angry step forward. A half-dozen chairs scraped against the floor as an equal number of burly men stood, glaring at Caledan. He froze. It looked as if this was about to turn nasty. He crouched, ready to give his best before he was dragged down.
    Suddenly a halfling woman clad in a gray homespun dress entered the inn’s common room from the kitchen, a startled expression on her kindly face. “Jolle, what is it?”
    “Stay back, wife!” the halfling man told her, lifting his cudgel, but before he could swing it the halfing woman let out a cry and dashed forward, throwing herself at Caledan. Caledan nearly tumbled backward from the impact. Then he caught himself and returned her embrace.
    “By the Lady above, Caledan!” the halfling woman cried, caught between laughter and tears. “You’ve come home. You’ve come home!”
    Caledan cast a wry grin at the halfling man in answer to the fellow’s look of bewilderment. “It’s good to see you after all these years, Estah,” he said, hugging the halfling woman tightly. “Especially when so much has changed. But I’ve someone here who needs your attention more than I.”
    “Oh, by the Lady!” Estah said, letting go of Caledan and only just now seeing the still form of the Harper lying on the bench. Concern flooded her deep brown eyes and touched her broad, rosy-cheeked face. She laid a small hand gently on the Harper’s pale brow. “My pretty child,” she said, and then she assumed an air of briskness. “How like you, Caledan Caldorien, to drag a poor lass about when she’s hurt like this. Now don’t be in my way. I’ve work to do.”
    Estah promptly began running her hands over the unconscious Harper, expertly feeling for injury. Caledan looked at the halfling man—evidently Estah’s husband— and shrugged.
    “We’re old friends, Estah and I,” was all Caledan said.
    The halfling man whom Estah had called Jolle simply nodded and lowered his cudgel. “Then you’re welcome here, friend.”
    As if on cue, the room suddenly burst into action. “Coast’s clear!” a man keeping watch out the window called. With a swiftness and efficiency that suggested the movements were well rehearsed, the inn’s patrons proceeded to transform the common room. Bright cloths were spread across the tables, candles were lit, and a fire sprang to life on the hearth. The dirty cloths were snatched from the long wooden bar and quickly stowed away. The board bearing Lord Cutter’s Rules was turned around to reveal a notice that read: Ale, Two Silver Pieces. Stout mugs clinked together merrily as they were filled to the brim with foaming brew.
    “Welcome to the Dreaming Dragon, stranger,” a grizzled fellow said as he handed Caledan a tankard.
    The only answer Caledan could manage was an amazed smile. It looked as if some things hadn’t changed so much after all.
    It was well into the morning when Caledan awoke. Pale, golden sunlight streamed through the small round window of his third-story room — the same room that had been his when he had lived in the inn, in the days when he had been a Harper, and Estah had been his oldest and truest adventuring companion. He rose, washed his face in a tin basin, and scraped the dark stubble from his chin and cheeks with a straight razor he found in a drawer. He laughed, and the reflection in the mirror laughed silently back at him, green eyes dancing.
    Last night Estah had tended to the Harper woman, Mari, in her efficient, caring manner. Mari’s shoulder had been dislocated by the