Iroden woke early and noticed Mudd trying to stay awake for the second night in a row while Drakecutter slept. The human distrusted the dwarf with such an intensity it made Iroden's skin crawl. There was something dangerous about the dwarf that Mudd had not bothered to tell him.

   Though Drakecutter had grumbled in complaint, he'd let Iroden have the bed again, because Hiera insisted. He lay there with the warm covers wrapped around him and his stomach full from dinner the night before. He'd been afraid he would never eat again, but E'li had led them to these people who alone seemed to care about him whether he was an elf or not. He was sure Hiera believed him, but she was young, even for a human. Mudd and Drakecutter figured him for the kender he looked like.

   Kirak slept by the back wall, beneath the window. He'd casually opened it and looked outside before bedding down, and just as casually left it open. He moved like a Wildrunner elf of House Protector, not with elvish fluid grace, but with the same stance and awareness of those who had seen battle and expected an attack at any moment. He would not sleep without securing an escape route out of the room. But the drop from the window to the ally below was further than Iroden would have wanted to make.

   Mudd sat beside the door with his head against the wall, blinking and shaking his head to stay awake. In his hands he held a small gnomish puzzle game. He'd worked at it all afternoon the day before and all night without solving it.

   Drakecutter slept in the center of the room, his ax clutched in his hands. Every so often he'd grumble a curse at the red dragon in his sleep.

   Iroden slipped out of bed, and pulled on the new clothes Hiera had bought for him. He'd wanted white robes as was fitting a cleric of E'li, but Hiera had insisted on something more practical. Since she was paying, Iroden couldn't argue.

   He slipped into a tiny pair of brown trousers and a forest green shirt. A heavy leather vest fit overtop, keeping him warm, and giving him some protection in battle, or so Hiera said. She had even bought him a sturdy pair of boots that fit his little kender feet and a set of daggers that went into small sheaths inside the boots.

   For some reason, she seemed to like him. Iroden couldn't explain why. Kender were one of the lowest races on Krynn, equal with gnomes and not far above the brainless gully dwarves. She had not laughed when Iroden told her the story of being changed into a kender.

   Iroden picked up his cloak from the foot of the bed and held it a moment, trying to make up his mind.

   "What are you doing?" Mudd whispered.

   Iroden jumped. For a moment he'd forgotten about Mudd, struggling to stay awake by the door.

   "I wanted to go to the temple to pray for E'li's blessing on our journey. But I'm not sure they'll let me back in there."

   "Of course they won't." Mudd slid the puzzle back into this pocket and rubbed his eyes. "You stole their holy relic thing."

   "I didn't steal it. At least not on purpose. I was just looking at it, and then it accidently stayed in my hand when I left."

   Mudd gave him a fond smile. "Of course. But I promised to look after you until we get out of the city. I'm afraid I can't let you go back to the temple. You can pray here if you like. I won't interrupt you."

   Iroden wrapped his fingers around the warm platinum dragon pendant. "I guess that will have to do." He longed to see the unadorned beauty of the temple again, but Mudd was right.

   "There are still a few hours until dawn," Iroden said as he lowered himself to his knees. One thing about being a kender, his knees were much closer to the ground. "Why don't you get some sleep while I pray? I'll keep an eye on the dwarf and shout if he so much as twitches an eyeball."

   Mudd hesitated for a moment, then lay down in front of the door. He dropped into a deep sleep the moment his eyes closed.

   "Holy E'li," Iroden began his prayers. A shout from the streets outside interrupted him.

   "Come back here you blasted kender!"

   Iroden jumped and looked around. His companions still slept. Whoever had yelled, could not have been yelling at him. He leaned across Kirak and looked out the window.

   A small shadow darted into the ally and stood panting. It was a kender with a loaf of bread in his hand. The bread's warm smell wafted up to Iroden.

   "I don't know what all the fuss is about. I left the money on the baker's counter," the kender said. He bit off a piece of bread, chewed and swallowed.

   "He went down the ally," the voice who had shouted before said.

   "Good. Birch is already on the other side. We'll catch him between us. Come on." Another voice answered.

   Iroden's heart raced. He snatched a coil of rope from Kirak's supplies and tossed one end out the window.

   "Climb up," he hissed to the kender below. The kender stuffed the bread in his pocket, grabbed the rope and scrambled up.

   Iroden braced himself to hold the kender's weight, but the rope slipped through his hands. Without opening his eyes, Kirak reached up and grabbed the end.

   The kender climbed into the room and pulled the rope up. "Thank you," he said, panting.

   "My pleasure," Iroden said.

   Kirak groaned and rolled over. "Keep it down will you. I'm trying to sleep."

   Iroden glanced at Mudd. The noise and commotion hadn't stirred him or Drakecutter.

   The kender sat down on the floor, tore his loaf of bread in two, and offered half to Iroden.

   Iroden waved it away. He was sure to get breakfast in a few hours. Hiera would never let him starve.

   "Suit yourself," the kender said and started eating. Drops of blood seeped from a jagged gash across his forehead.

   "What happened to your head?" Iroden said, squatting down to get a closer look at the wound.

   "The baker hit me with a frying pan. Can you believe it? All I wanted was to buy a little bread, but the front door was locked, so I let myself in through the back window. I wish I had a mirror. I've never been cut on my face before. I bet it will leave a wonderful scar."

   Iroden shook his head. "I don't think it has to. I'm a cleric of E'li. I can ask his blessing to heal it."

   The kender stopped eating for a moment. "A cleric, really? Who's E'li."

   "Paladine. Be quiet and let me pray." Iroden clutched his medallion with one hand and touched his fingertips to the wound.

   Though he was young, he'd been more successful than many of the other clerics in calling forth E'li's blessings. A black thought took him as he remembered the faithless clerics who during the light of day feigned allegiance to E'li and in the dead of night offered dark sacrifices to Hiddukel.

   As Iroden prayed, warmth spread from the medallion through his body and into his fingertips. The kender's skin knit back together and the swelling vanished. Iroden wetted a cloth in the wash basin and wiped away the blood.

   The kender probed his forehead looking for any remnant of the wound, but found none. "That's amazing," he said in awe.

   Iroden smiled and rubbed the medallion. The warmth lingered in him. As he stared at the kender in front of him, he felt a strange sense of brotherhood.

   Kirak spoke before Iroden could open his mouth and ask the kender if he wanted to stay for breakfast.

   "You better get rid of your little friend before Mudd wakes up. Back out the window please. The baker and his thugs have gone now." Kirak wrapped one end of the rope around his hand and threw the other out the window.

   The kender scrambled to his feet, shook Iroden's hand, and vanished out the window.