Dawn had scarcely chased the revelers back to more private quarters when Kylun heard the rap at his door. Too foggy with sleep to be either excited or annoyed he trudged from his simple cot to answer the insistent knocking. Even the dim light of morning filtering through the heights of city buildings caused him to squint painfully.

Silently he swore himself off mead for at least a week.

“You will come with me,” came a quiet but firm voice out of the glare.

“Scuse me?” Kylun croaked, then cleared his throat and tried to make out the face of his visitor. At first he delighted at the fair features and soft, auburn hair that draped gracefully about delicately sloping shoulders. The emblem across the modest chest turned his mood considerably more sour.

The Apolsi Crest. So, she was a Messenger. This couldn’t be good, as far as he was concerned.

“You will come with me,” she repeated, sweet but stern.

Kylun could only sigh and acquiesce, “Let me get my sandals…and some pants.”