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have some taverns and inns and even an elf that runs a store. Barek likes to go to taverns. And he’s big enough that maybe they’d remember him.”
                  Y’Dürkie nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a good place to start, if nothink else. They have a good month’s head start on us, but ve can move faster. Ve might be able to pick up horses there, too. A rest in a proper bed vill do us good as vell.” Arwenna could hear the thinly veiled concern for her in Y’Dürkie’s voice.
                  Arwenna’s back straightened. This town of Lexi’s sounded good. “We will need to take precautions. We wouldn’t want to be recognized. I’m sure our descriptions will get there before we do.”
                  Y’Dürkie looked around the campsite at the various plants and bushes. “There is stuff here ve can gather and use right before ve get into the town. I can change your hair color, Arvenna. You as vell, Lexi. That should keep us from beink recognized, for a vhile anyway.”
                  Arwenna reached over her shoulder and fingered her braided black hair. Before anyone could react, she unsheathed a belt knife and began to cut through the thick plait. “There,” she said, shaking out her new shorter hair, “it’ll be even harder now. They’ll be looking for someone with long hair, not short.”  She shuddered involuntarily, remembering it was one of the things that had made it easier for Bohrs to restrain her.
                  She was aware of Lexi’s eyes on her, but she could only sit there and hold her cast off hair. That was hard for her to do, almost a death of sorts. Silently, a pair of young hands took the braid out of her hands and put it off to the side. Arwenna leaned forward into Lexi’s arms, and the tears started to flow as the stresses of the last weeks finally came spilling out. She sobbed for what seemed like hours, finally collapsing on her blankets as the mental and physical exhaustion overcame her will to stay awake. She could feel blankets being placed over her as sleep claimed her.
                  Arwenna looked down at her patient, hoping he could pull through, but uncertain if he had the strength. It had been a long time since she’d seen one of her own kind. The scars on his bare torso were raw and fresh. She shuddered involuntarily over the knowledge of what Father Morgyn had to do to keep him alive.
                  He stirred as she dabbed a cool rag against his face in an attempt to reduce the fever ravaging his body. His eyes opened and focused on her. “Am I dead?” he asked in a breaking voice. This was the first time he’d used it in days.
                  “No, you aren’t dead. You’re in an infirmary. My name’s Arwenna. I’m a cleric of Silas. We’ve been taking care of you for several days now.” Arwenna turned slightly to rinse out the cloth in a bowl beside the bed.
                  “You’re not an angel, then?” He almost sounded disappointed.
                  Arwenna smiled and laughed slightly. “No, I’m no angel. I’m just someone who wants to help.” She helped him raise his head enough to sip some water.
                  “What happened?” he asked as she helped him rest back on the pillow.
                  “You don’t remember anything?” Father Morgyn told her to be careful about what she told him. If she triggered a wrong memory, it could destroy his mind.
                  “No, nothing. I don’t think I even know my own name.” He looked at the ceiling, his eyes moved as if searching for something.
                  “Well, some of the Order have taken to calling you Senyan Dakar. Would that sit well with you, at least until we can discover the right name?” She smiled at him, hoping this would help him somewhat.
                  “Senyan, huh? I