Alex was a silent guide, which I suppose I was getting used to. Orwyn's willingness to chat about anything seemed to be an anomaly in my life.

  Our route did not lead us far from the Beorne garrison. Just a few blocks away, deep in the rich inner city, Alex gestured us in to an inn with a fancy magical sign writing out "Reverie" repeatedly in cursive. It was a large inn, eight stories tall, with magical supports to reduce the effects of gravity on the frame.

  Inside was a lavishly furnished lobby, with crimson carpets and plush couches to wait on. Bellhops scurried about on their assigned tasks, every one of them in a panic to keep their guests happy. No art was hung on the walls; rather, each wall was covered in a plaster etched and carved into a series of forest friezes. Some were simple nature, some added a lonely woman or stoic man, some carvings tucked into less frequented hallways even showed forests engulfed in fire or disease. It was an extravagant hotel, to say the least.

  Alex led us to the counter and asked for the government room. The receptionist seemingly recognized Alex as he immediately set about getting us room access and escorts, all while rattling off scheduling around local restaurants, in-room service, sporadic help, and quiet hours.

  Alex handed us two synth cards while we waited for a bellhop to arrive. "This are enchanted IDs that flag you for entry and exit from the inner city. They should imprint on your magical signature in a few minutes." He also handed me a folded note, saying "This is a small list of places I recommend checking out while you're in town. Restaurants, shops, events, so on. It shouldn't take too long to get your money from the Regency but you'll have at least a day to kill."

  I took the note. "I've never been in the inner city before, so this will help me orient myself a bit, thanks."

  A bellhop was hustling across the lobby towards us, so I said goodbye to Alex and he assured me I could contact him at the garrison whenever.

  It seemed that the bellhops were discouraged from introducing themselves, or chatting, or even thinking in this establishment. Some people prefer their help lobotomized, I suppose. For me, it made the trek up to the seventh floor a tad awkward. Every question was met with "sorry, I shouldn't say" as a response.

  The bellhop led us to an elevated platform with a small console in the middle of the building. He pressed a button on the console, causing magical circuits to glow around us, and then we found ourselves on an identical platform in another room. A sign indicated we were on the seventh floor, and a waiting area similar to the inn's lobby surrounded us.

  After years in the rural and poor parts of the north it was a bit of a shock. I had nearly forgotten magitech like this existed; even in the prestigious Docet Barrington this sort of elevator was little better than a rumor.

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  We were led down a short hallway to our room. The bellhop unlocked the door by pressing a square synth token to it, then he handed Drifter and I identical tokens. "These are your door keys. If you lose them please let the receptionist on duty know right away." He showed us an imprint on the back of the token and said "if you need service from the hotel, press your thumb here and it will connect you to reception."

  I had never even heard of this sort of magitech before, and in such a small format, to boot. The inn was proving itself to be further and further beyond the reach of my normal social class by the moment.

  Our suite was immense, at least compared to where I normally stayed. A small entrance hall had closets and other storage, and it led to a large living space with private bathing and toilet rooms on the side. There were three bedrooms down a short hallway, each one the size of a room I would normally share with Drifter at a normal inn, and each one fully furnished with a large bed, a desk, and seating for relaxation.

  Every room on the seventh floor was like this, apparently, to say nothing of the full-floor penthouse on the eighth floor currently occupied by the Duke of Grecia and his party.

  We each picked a bedroom and put our stuff down, then we retreated to the living room to chat. Both of us sat on large four-person couches - with a third couch and several chairs and recliners to spare.

  I looked around the room, noting a plethora of landscape paintings on the walls and carefully embroidered curtains rimming the large windows. I was stunned by the extravagance all around us, so it took me a few extra moments to collect my thoughts. "This all feels a bit suspicious, doesn't it?"

  Drifter nodded. "This is a diplomat's room."

  "It makes no sense to put a couple of bounty hunters in here," I agreed, "but they also didn't have the bounty ready, and it's going to be a significant chunk of time before we get paid, and we also are being treated as VIPs far beyond what a guard captain should have the power to do. It's hard to say why, but it feels like a set-up."

  A few moments passed in silence, my brain churning away at the possibilities, until Drifter told me "They seemed to purposefully ignore me to interact with you."

  Drifter was quiet, and his presence often sunk into the background, but most people talked to both of us even if the conversation was primarily between me and them. I hadn't noticed at the time, but he was right; Even had hardly acknowledged Drifter, and the conversation was hurried, as if to get us out as soon as possible.

  I looked over the list of places Alex had provided me. They were primarily in the inner city, but a bit away from the markets and the main roads, and the ones outside the inner city had notes about reservations and long lines. A paranoid analysis might suggest that it was a subtle method of keeping us nearby and out of trouble.

  And we were feeling paranoid.

  "I think, for starters, that we should visit Orwyn at the Heron." I pulled out one of the synth cards we were handed, slowly twirling it in my fingers and staring at the iridescent lines forming as it read my magical signature. "These cards probably track us, if not directly then by virtue of letting them know when we come and go. He may be able to help us leave quietly if we're in a pinch." Drifter nodded in agreement. "Beyond that... if we want to be paid then we're stuck waiting to see what happens. But we aren't currently being explicitly restricted, so we can technically leave whenever."

  Drifter shrugged. "We can get out if needed."

  Knowing what he meant, I sighed.