"I can''t believe they fell for that!" Urt shook his head in wonder as they made their way through the surprisingly long tunnel through the city wall. "Who can''t detect magical coinage?"

    "Shhh!" Reginald said. "They may hear you." He pointed up.

    Looking up, Urt noted hundreds of tiny holes in the ceiling of the carved passage.

    "What are they for?"

    "Pouring boiling oil down," the werewolf replied.

    "Oh." Urt looked down again, then: "Oh!" as the implications of this registered. "That''s cunning."

    "Just because people are stupid, doesn''t mean they aren''t dangerous," Reginald whispered.

    "I see. Something to consider for sure." Urt stroked his chin. He was beginning to grow stubble, and he wondered if he should attempt to grow a small goatee. Goatees, he felt, added to the general look of evil. If ever there was evil facial hair, it was the goatee.

    "Look, we''re here." Reginald interrupted his musings and pointed at light flooding into the passage from the other end.

    Urt checked Lucy. He''d pulled a hood low over her head, so no one could see her deceased status. Horace was in his backpack, where he''d gone after a rash of complaints.

    The small group entered the town, and Urt stopped dead.

    "Wow," he said, after a moment. "Finally, civilization."

    "Maybe." Reginald shrugged.

    Groan, or at least this part of if, consisted of tall, thin buildings. So tall and thin, in fact, that they seemed to sway in the breeze, an alarming sight to the travellers, but obviously it didn''t concern the residents, who ignored the phenomenon. The buildings, which appeared to be constructed mainly of wood, made strange wheezing noises as they swayed.

    "Hence the name." Urt nodded.

    "I''m never going to be able to catch a rabbit in here," lamented Reginald.

    "The rabbit can wait for now," Urt replied, looking left and right.

    "What are we looking for, exactly?" Reginald asked, after several minutes of aimless wandering.

    "I''m looking for a book," Urt replied. "A very specific book."

    "I see," Reginald said. "So. It will be dark soon, we have no money and only a couple of pebbles." He hefted said stones.

    Urt looked at the pebbles and shook his head. The guards were one thing, they wouldn''t be around when the coins turned back. An inn-keep would know where to find them. Turning around, his eye fell on a business across the street. "I think I know what to do," he said.

    ~ * ~

    "Inn keep!" Urt said, slapping the counter.

    "Sire?" said the well dressed man behind it.

    "Your finest suite for my friend and me," Urt leaned forward and smiled.

    "Delighted sir. That will be one Gold." A well manicured hand was held out. "Deposit."

    ~ * ~

    "Innkeep!" Urt shouted, slapping the rough wooden bar top.

    "Whadyawant?" snarled the gigantic form behind the counter.

    "How much for a room for my companion and myself?" Urt asked.

    "Shilling a night." The man leaned forward and thrust a bristly chin at the small group. "In advance."

    "Does that include dinner?" asked Reginald, stopping Urt from handing over one of the two Shillings they had made from the sale of the donkey.

    "No."

    ~ * ~

    "Inn-keep!"

    "Waddlitbe luv?" asked the woman, scratching an ample behind with a hand that surely hadn''t been washed in some days.

    "I wish to rent a modestly priced room for one, and possibly further nights. What are your rates?" he asked.

    "Lummé, rates is it?" She smiled, showing a mouth full of teeth severely in need of dental work. "Four Groats a night for you ''andsome." She winked. "Five Groats for an ''earty dinner and breakfast of finest meat."

    "Real meat is it?" Reginald asked.

    "To be sure lad," she replied. "Caught the rats me''self. Fat buggers they was too."

    "We''ll take it," Reginald stated, before Urt had a chance to speak. "It''s been ages since I had a good rat."

    ~ * ~

    "I think I''m getting seasick," Reginald said, holding his stomach as he sat on the edge of the single battered chair their room had.

    Another gust of wind caused further creaking, alarmingly loud, from the walls. Urt leaned slightly to one side to counter the sway of the building.

    "It seems that the top floor has certain disadvantages," he said.

    "I feel fine," Horace said. Urt had taken him out of his backpack once they were safely ensconced in their lodging, and he was now back in the arms of Lucy, who remained quiet and uncomplaining. "Zombies don''t get seasick," he carried on. "Part of our natural superiority."

    "You don''t have a working stomach, of course you can''t get sick," said Reginald.

    "Well don''t spew inside," Urt instructed, slightly alarmed at the lad''s expression.

    "You''re all heart you are." Reginald slid off the seat and curled up on the floor. "I''m going to sleep. Wake me when it''s morning or I''m dead, whichever comes first."

    "If only I could," muttered Urt, but to himself. He sat on the narrow bunk and considered his forces. They weren''t impressive to look at he had to admit. Perhaps he could do something about that, magically.

    He lay down on the bed thinking what spells he could use, and still hadn''t thought of what to do when he fell asleep.

    ~ * ~

    "Any food left?" asked Reginald. "I''m hungry."

    "You only ate yesterday!" Urt replied.

    "A mangy couple of fruit! Hardly the diet of kings."

    Urt scowled and finished pulling on his boots. The night had past peacefully enough. The rocking was actually quite soothing once you became used to it. Now though, another day awaited their attention, and the wolf did have a point. Urt was hungry too.

    "Well there''s your tasty rat breakfast," he said, not wanting to squander the little money that remained. He now realized that he''d probably been cheated on the donkey deal, and wondered if he should go back and turn the horse trader into something nasty. Of course, it could just be that donkey''s weren''t very valuable here.

    "Come on then," Reginald said, moving towards the door.

    "Hold on." Urt put the complaining Horace back in his pack and told Lucy to wait for them, before following the lad downstairs into the dining area.

    "Ere''s they is!" said the same large woman they''d spoken to the evening before. "Comes for your real meat breakfast has you?"

    "Yes, please," Reginald said, plucking a spoon and a wooden bowl from a stack that had been set up on a nearby table. "It smells wonderful," he added, approaching the large pot just beyond.

    "Ooh, I likes you I does," cackled the inn-keep. "An extra big spoonful for you!"

    "You too!" she said, repeating the action with Urt. He thanked her and took a seat next to Reginald, who was busy shovelling the stuff into his mouth as fast as possible.

    "Take it easy," Urt said. "You''ll choke."

    "Mmffff," replied Reginald, dribbling gravy down his chin.

    Shaking his head, Urt spooned a mouthful into his own mouth and chewed carefully. Overall, he decided, it wasn''t as bad as he''d expected it to be. He ate some more.

    Rat stew was obviously popular in this part of Groan. Before they''d finished the dining hall, empty when they''d first come in, was full of patrons enjoying their breakfast. Urt purchased a cheap goblet of thin wine for himself and, after some consideration, Reginald, and by the time they were done both were stuffed full.

    "Ahh, that''s the finest meal I''ve ever had," the werewolf said, leaning back and patting his stomach. "I don''t think I''ve ever been this full!"

    "You obviously aren''t the best hunter then," Urt said. "I''m beginning to think I''ll never see that rabbit I''m owed."

    Reginald took the criticism in his stride, no doubt buoyed up by the fine cuisine. "Never fear!" he said, slapping him on the shoulder. "I''ll pay my way, you see if I don''t."

    "Mmm," Urt said. He wasn''t going to complain though, it was nice to have someone living to talk to.

    "So," Reginald said, ???k?n? the bottom of his already clean bowl. "Why are we going to so much trouble for this book? Coming thousands of leagues for a bit of reading seems unusual."

    "It''s hardly been thousands of leagues," Urt corrected. "I''d be surprised if it was ten. And I made a promise."

    "But you''re evil! A dark mage being who lies, steals and murders! What''s a promise to you?" Reginald quite reasonably pointed out.

    "I appreciate the compliments," Urt replied, "but I feel strangely compelled to follow this one." The image of a shapely leg ran through his head, and he shuddered slightly.

    "You have a cunning plan don''t you?" Reginald said, nodding wisely. "I get it. Say no more." He tapped the side of his nose.

    Rolling his eyes, Urt gave up on the conversation, filing the shapely leg image away for perusal at a more convenient time, he stood up. "Come on. Go and get the Lucy, I''m going to ask around."