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yourself, any longer.”
    The gatekeeper was visibly disappointed. “Yes, Inquisitrix. I understand.” Dejectedly he turned to go.
    “How far can a canine run into a forest?” Pryce asked him in lieu of a good-bye.
    “Wha-what?” Matthaunin stuttered, then brightened. “Oh… oh, I see. A riddle! A dog… the woods? Let’s see… Oh, dear, I should know this____Curses! All right, how far?”
    “Halfway,” Pryce informed him with a grin.
    “Half… ? Oh, of course! For the other half, it’s running out of the forest! Yes, yes, that’s good. I’ll use that____” And then, shaking his head and smiling, Matthaunin Witterstaet disappeared back out the gate to his parchment, golem, and refugees.
    Pryce turned back to the inquisitrix, who was watching him with a strange expression on her face. “What is it?” he asked her directly.
    ‘You didn’t have to…” she began, then tried again. “Why did you… ?” And when that didn’t work either, she settled on a new observation. “You’re nothing like I expected, but somehow everything I expected.”
    Pryce thought about chastising her for holding any preconceptions at all, but then he let the saner half of his head prevail. ‘What exactly did you expect?” he asked with a bemused smile.
    His informality had the opposite effect of what he had intended. The inquisitrix cleared her throat and stood straight, her shoulders back. “Why, you, naturally, sir. I hope you will forgive
    me. I’m forgetting my responsibility. Of course we saw you through the Eye of the Inquisitor, and I was sent to make sure you are settled in comfortably. Will you follow me, sir?”
    She led him down the road into Lallor proper, and soon Pryce was torn between trying to figure out ways to elicit information from Lymwich about her relationship to Gamor and what, exactly, the late rascal had told everyone about him, and trying not to be overwhelmed by the seemingly endless delights of this small, luxurious city by the sea.
    Things were not simply built here, but tastefully designed, from street curbs to seemingly insignificant window displays. Incredibly most of the items offered for sale were hardly ostentatious. Rather, they were artful, even elegant, in their simplicity. Everything was clean, but hardly sterile. Individual character shone from each dwelling or shop they passed. Colorful decorations caught his eye everywhere he looked.
    The people they passed were far from effusive, but certainly not unfriendly. In their soft, tastefully flamboyant clothes and cloaks that swept the street, they looked discerningly from him to the inquisitrix, then nodded with something approaching approval. For all the tales he had heard of Lallorian paranoia about strangers, the only evidence he had seen so far was the stringent entrance exam. Perhaps that was all the wealthy, civilized residents needed to maintain control… that and the all-seeing eye at the main gate.
    An all-seeing eye that must have seen Gamor Turkal leave the city… and should know that he didn’t come back!
    The rest of their walk was mostly a blur to Covington. As much as he wanted to enjoy the glorious architecture and landscaping, it was becoming increasingly important for him to find out what everyone else seemed to know about him. So intent was he on figuring out some way to get this information from the tiny, tightly wound inquisitrix that he didn’t notice how full the vegetation had become around them and how dense the tall,
    thick-barked trees were in this part of the city. “Here you are, sir.”
    Covington looked up. “Excuse me?” They stood in a dark, cool cul-de-sac between the rest of Lallor and the inner wall of castles. They stood on rectangular stones of dark red. The dead-end road was shaped vaguely like a bulb, the walls of which circled Pryce on three sides and were totally covered by clinging, flowering vines. As he inspected the vines, he noticed that they grew wilder the higher they went,