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stench.
    Nearra stepped carefully as she walked, and clamped a hand over her mouth and nose to shut out the smell. But Sindri inhaled deeply and grinned.
    “What a stink! Every time I come here, it smells worse!”
    A pack of grubby dwarves walked by. They huddled close together, not speaking, and they cast furtive glances about as they walked, as if constantly alert to the possibility of attack.
    “Is it safe here?” Nearra asked, trying not to sound as worried as she felt.
    “It is as long as I am at your side,” Catriona said.
    “Of course it’s safe,” Sindri said, sounding surprised anyone could think otherwise. “I’ve never had any trouble here.”
    “Just like you didn’t have trouble with the minotaur, eh?” Davyn said.
    Sindri gave the ranger a dirty look but didn’t say anything.
    Near the end of the street, they came to an especially rickety-looking building. Nearra saw a sign hanging over the door. On it was a faded, lopsided painting of a bird that might or might not have been a goose. A black blindfold covered the bird’s eyes.
    Nearra pointed. “Is that it?”
    Davyn opened his mouth, but then he quickly closed it.
    Sindri said, “Yes, that’s the Blind Goose. Let’s go!” The kender started running toward the tavern, but Catriona grabbed a handful of his cape and stopped him.
    “Let’s go slowly,” she said. “We don’t want to draw any more attention to ourselves than necessary. Especially in a place like that,” she added under her breath.
    As they approached the tavern entrance, the window shutters burst into splinters and a man came flying out headfirst. He landed in the street muck with a loud gasp as the air was knocked out of his lungs. The man lay still for a moment, then rose shakily to his feet, groaning with the effort. He staggered down the street, seemingly none the worse for wear.
    Catriona looked anxiously at Nearra. “Perhaps you should wait out here while Davyn and I go in and look for a guide.” From the tone of her voice, it sounded as if she would rather not go in at all. “Sindri will watch over you.”
    “Do I have to?” the kender whined.
    Nearra felt a sudden surge of anger. “What are you saying? That I can’t handle myself in a dangerous situation?” Nearra was at a loss to explain her anger. She knew that Catriona was only looking out for her, but for some reason the idea that the warrior thought she was helpless infuriated Nearra.
    “Since awakening in the forest, I’ve encountered goblins, a dragon, and a minotaur, and the day is only half over. If I can deal with all that, surely I can deal with some drunken thugs in a seedy tavern.” Nearra was surprised to hear herself say these things. It was almost as if the words weren’t hers but someone else’s.
    “I do not mean to criticize you,” Catriona said, “but in each of those situations you had help. And given your condition, in many ways, you are like an infant that has only been born this morning. Perhaps you can handle yourself in a dangerous situation, but do you know for certain if you can? From what you’ve told us, you had no weapons when you first woke in the forest. Do you remember if you’ve been trained to use any kind of weapon?”
    Nearra thought hard, but she could not recall ever having been trained to do
anything
, let alone fight. She didn’t speak. Her silence was enough of an answer.
    Catriona nodded. “It’s settled, then. Sindri, stay here with Nearra while Davyn and I go into the tavern.”
    Nearra felt her anger building, rising near the boiling point. She balled her hands into fists and they began to tingle and grow warm.
    How dare she speak like that to me!
The thought echoed through Nearra’s mind, but it felt alien, as though it belonged to someone else. A woman with a cruel edge to her voice …
    Nearra fixed her gaze on Catriona and began to raise her hands …
    But then Davyn was standing next to her, gently but firmly pushing her hands back