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a happier moment, when both our missions have met with success. May Sigmar watch over you.'
    'And you as well,' Alaric agreed, and Dietz echoed the sentiment. They mounted and rode across the plaza, with Kleiber watching them go.
    Then the street began again, and the plaza vanished into shadow behind them. Night had fallen and Geheimnistag had given way to Geheimnisnacht, the Night of Mystery, which was even worse in its excesses, as people felt more comfortable acting out their wildest notions under dark­ness than they had in broad daylight.
    A wave of people washed over them as they passed beyond the witch hunters' protection, and Alaric visibly wilted beneath the onslaught of sights, sounds, and smells. Dietz worried that his friend was having more strange visions, until he realised that Alaric's eyes were barely open at all. The noblemanhad slumped forward in his saddle, only half-conscious, and was staying on his horse as much by reflex as by conscious effort.
    'Alaric!' Dietz nudged his horse close again and reached out to grasp the younger man by the shoulder. He man­aged to grab him just before Alaric, jostled by a trio of giggling older women, began to slide off his horse. 'Wake up!'
    Alaric glanced around blearily, saw Dietz, and nodded. 'Sorry. I must have dozed off.' But his words were slurred, and Dietz could feel the heat rising from him even through his jacket. A quick check of his forehead confirmed it: Alaric was burning with a fever.
    'We need to find shelter for the night,' Dietz declared. He spotted an inn on the next street and urged his horse for­ward, keeping a firm grip on Alaric, and dragging him and his mount along in his wake. They pushed and shoved their way through the crowd, many of whom responded belligerently, but Dietz had no time to argue with drunk­ards and fools. He ignored all of them beyond a quick
    glare and a hand on his axe, which was enough to silence each one long enough for them to disappear back into the throng.
    Upon reaching the inn, however, Dietz discovered bad news. 'We're full up,' the innkeeper shouted up at him when he answered the door. 'Sorry. Try somewhere else.' Then he slammed the door shut, and refused to respond to Dietz's continued banging.
    The next inn was the same, and the next... and the next. Dietz tried the inn that Kleiber had recommended, but it was no better. The city was packed with visitors as well as locals, and all the inns were full. Many refused to answer their doors, and those who did greeted Dietz with weapons drawn and an absolute refusal to allow them in, not for any sum of money.
    Alaric was looking worse by the minute. He was almost unconscious, and Dietz had to pause long enough to tie the younger man to his horse, because he could no longer prop him up and navigate effectively.
    Finally, Dietz reined in against a building, with Alaric between him and the wall, and paused to think. He had tried almost a dozen inns, and all gave him the same answer. There was no reason to think the others in the city would be any different, but he had to get Alaric off the streets and find him some medical attention. Where could they go?
    They were too far into the city to turn around. It would take hours to reach the city gates with the crowds this thick, and he wasn't sure Alaric would survive that long without some form of rest and medical treatment. They were also too far from the warehouse district and the docks; if he remembered Altdorf s layout correctly, those were two places where he might have found shelter for them, even if it meant breaking into a warehouse for the night, but that was out.
    So what was left?
    Dietz glanced around, looking beyond the revellers and studying the city. The houses were getting bigger and nicer as they moved farther into the city. The palace would be at its centre, and beyond that the houses of...
    He stopped and glanced over at Alaric. It might work. It might be their only hope, but Alaric might never forgive