Zayn awoke to a gust of cold, bitter Cleeve’s Landing air, crashing the window shutter against the brick wall over his head. The latch to his window had come undone, which was not uncommon in the late winter when the winds are high. What was uncommon was the lack of heat in his room, and the numbness of his limbs. A few more hours, and he would have been frozen solid. He peered over to the stove nestled in the corner of his tiny quarters. Not even a hint of a flame peeked through the grate. Zayn mustered up the courage to get out of bed and come to terms with the severity of the beating he took the night before

  He planted his feet on the floor and stood up, feeling a sharp pain in both sets of ribs as he stood up and straightened. He surveyed the rest of his body and found the usual bruises, aches, and cuts that one would expect from getting their ass-kicked by trained knights in chainmail, with only leather armor to protect themselves.

  Zayn limped over to the stove, every step causing shockwaves of pain to shoot through his ribs, praying to Tera that they were merely bruised and not broken. The Duke’s knights really knew how to get in between them with their iron boots. Zayn opened the grate of the stove and found no coals, just ash. It appeared the night manager hadn’t refilled his stove during the night. He thought they likely had something to do with his window not being latched as well.

  He hoped the Duke would show some discretion and not draw any more attention to himself and the case that Zayn was working, but news spread quickly in Cleeve's Landing. Something that Zayn had used countless times to aid his contracts. One of the Duke's men must have swung by to "encourage" the night manager to expedite his departure from the Mermaid's Folly, which had been Zayn’s home for the last seven years.

  Zayn took inventory of his room. The only items not securely tucked away were his boots and bedroll. One of the first lessons that Cleeve’s Landing taught him, when he first arrived squatting in abandoned buildings, was to always be ready to make a run for it. Zayn grimaced as he bent over and rolled up his bedroll. He stuffed it into his messenger bag, pulled out a flask of mead, and clumsily undid the lid, his hands still shaking from the few licks he was able to get in during the fight last night.

  Removing the flask didn’t change the bag’s weight as it should, and there was no sign of the bedroll he placed in just before. Zayn took a moment to silently praise the Wizard of the Woods who paid Zayn with what he called a “bag of vastness” for saving the wizard’s life. A tale for another day.

  Zayn could stuff the bag with whatever he wanted, and the items would not affect the bag's weight. If someone besides him looked inside, they would be greeted with the bottom of the bag. When Zayn opened the bag with an idea of what he needed, the item would appear. The only limitations he found so far were that the objects must be able to fit in the messenger bag while it was closed, and living things would not disappear. He learned the latter with a mouse that decided to shack up with him in the Folly. The bag quickly became his most prized possession and arguably the only thing he owned with real value besides his bow.

  Zayn took a swig of the mead in an attempt at dulling some of his pains before he bent over to put on his boots. It took more will than he thought he had left not to scream out when the pain in his sides blazed. He managed to get on and lace up his boots without too many screams of pain and counted the fact that no one burst through the door thinking there was a damsel in distress on the other side a success. The thought of them finding a disheveled man with blood dried in his beard behind the door did give him a chuckle though. The chuckle was short-lived, as his ribs reminded him why he was laughing in the first place. It was already turning into a long day for Zayn. He took one more inventory of his room, gave it a silent farewell, and headed to the innkeeper to settle up.

  As he walked towards the stairwell, Zayn had a moment to reflect. He hadn’t intended to accuse the Duke when he went to his manor the night before. The purpose of his visit was to see if the Duke had any information on the contract he was working. The Duke hosted a private party at the establishment where the girl Zayn was tasked with finding worked. With the duke owing Zayn more than one favor, he figured the Duke would spill some names of other folks at the party in exchange for clearing the books. However, when Zayn brought the girl, Trina, up, there was a mood shift, among the Duke and the guests he was entertaining and he became certain that the Duke had something to do with the smith’s daughter going missing.

  Zayn knew the Duke liked women on the younger side and enjoyed the occasional seedy establishment. That was the reason why the Duke requested his services to steal embarrassing evidence collected from a rival family. Zayn was too naive to mistake the man for having limits, though, and it never crossed his mind that he had it in him to go that young. Zayn knew the only reason he got out of his manor alive was the Duke’s assumption that his death would lead to his “network” releasing unsavory details about him from his past escapades. The Duke was right to assume.

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  Zayn made his way down the stairwell and entered the tavern. The place still reeked with the stale sweat and spilled mead left over from the patrons the previous night. He could see where the night manager poorly mopped up the blood Zayn tracked across the floor as he stumbled up to his room last night. From the look of it, some of the blood had seeped into the wood. Zayn was pleased to see that the Mermaid’s Folly would have difficulty getting rid of him for good.

  “I see you are off then, eh, ranger?” The innkeeper called from across the room, doing a poor job of hiding his lack of surprise. He was prepping the breakfast for the morning crowd that would likely start showing up soon.

  “Mac, we’ve known each other for three years, and I can read you like a book,” Zayn replied. “So don’t bullshit me. How much did I step in it this time?”

  “Enough to where you can’t trust your neck will survive another night in this establishment. Or any in Cleeve’s Landing, for that matter.” Mac lit the flames of the stove. After sleeping in the cold, Zayn’s body craved the heat, and the smell of bone broth and cooked onions replaced the smell of booze and sweat. “What I’ve heard is you got until sundown before the Duke’s grace runs out and he sicks his men on you.”

  “And I’m assuming the night manager is the one having a go at my neck if I overstay my welcome here?” Zayn asked.

  “From the blue in your lips, I’d say he already had a go. That would be Thomas. He’s a vet from the Duke’s army and my latest hire. He lost a kneecap to an arrow, and they kicked him out. I’d assume one of the knights came by and filled him in so he could win the Duke’s favor and get a cushy job back at the castle. You know how the vets take care of their own.” Mac began stirring the soup as it started to boil, “He’s honestly not that bad of a guy. He’s just a bit desperate to get back to a sense of duty. I’m sure you can relate.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he and I would get along just fine if given the time,” Zayn said sarcastically, adding him to the list of folks he needed to avoid if he wanted to make it out of the city alive. “Can I still count on you to leave the package with the crier if someone decides to get a little hasty and ignore the duke’s grace, as your night manager was so bold to do?” Zayn asked. Mac was one of the few allies he had in the city, and even then, he knew that Mac would cave if someone offered a substantial amount of coin. The Mermaid’s Folly was about a decade past needing a renovation.

  “If you knew what he did, you would-”, Zayn started, but Mac cut him off.

  “I don’t want to know what you think he did!”

  Zayn knew Mac’s angry yell well. It usually came out when he broke up a fight that threatened to damage any of the furniture that still remained intact. That yell was new to Zayn, though. That yell came from fear.

  “I haven’t gotten to the age of fifty without wits,” Mac said, gaining his composure. Zayn suppressed the surprise on his face. He looked seventy, at least. He had lived a harder life than Zayn had given him credit for.

  Mac continued, “And I know when the tides are turning. Our deal stands until midnight. After that, I’m washing my hands of you. I like you, ranger, but not enough to go up against the royals. I never agreed to put my neck on the line.”

  “I’m sure an honest man like you won’t dare cash my coin after going back on our deal.”

  Mac rolled his eyes and gestured over to the bar. There, Zayn saw the sack containing the ten gold coins he gave Mac to hold onto as part of his insurance policy. Zayn felt like an ass.

  “Mac, I can’t—” he started, but Mac raised a hand to silence him.

  “I know you can’t, but you're right. I was dumb to think you’d never actually go head-to-head with the Duke when I drunkenly made that deal, and I should have never taken that coin. I also know that you have a reputation for being bad at collecting payments from the folks you help.” He picked up the coin and forced it into Zayn’s hand. “Just take it. If it makes you feel any better, I lied about them increasing my taxes when I jacked up your rent. We’ll call it even.”

  Zayn could see the look of pity in his eyes. He knew Zayn had no coin. Otherwise, he would have paid his outstanding rent for the month. Everything he had was riding on the case, and he had invested what little coin he had into paying leads to get closer to finding the smith’s daughter. Zayn began to think he should have cut his losses when signs started pointing at the Duke. But that wasn’t him. All the messes he found himself in were from not knowing when to quit.

  “I appreciate it, Mac,” Zayn replied, “More than you know.”

  A few patrons started to filter in. Based on their appearance, Zayn figured they sought nourishment before working the fields the rest of the day. Their faces told a different story. Zayn could practically see gold coins replacing their eyes as they sneered and whispered to each other, sneaking glances in his direction. Zayn had no doubt they were planning what they would do with his bounty once they caught up with him after the Duke’s grace wore off. It was going to be a long day getting out of the city.

  “I’ll be going. Maybe I’ll see you around, Mac,” Zayn said as he stowed the coin in his bag.

  Mac handed him a food pouch, likely filled with dried fruits and meat that would last a few days outside a cold chest, and he bagged it as well. Mac looked at it suspiciously. Zayn expected him to take his last chance to ask about the bag's magic, which always seemed to catch his attention, but he was ready for me Zayn to be gone. “I don’t expect you will. May Tera watch over you, Ranger.”

  With that, Zayn took his leave of the Mermaid’s Folly for the last time.