When nothing remained but ashes, she went to the pile of her clothes which still lay where she had thrown it the night before, pulled her trousers from it and put them on. Then she bound her chest and went on searching for her shirt. She forwent her boots and armour; she would get them after a good breakfast. With the image of the unknown city, she left her room and knocked on the door opposite hers. Thorgest opened her, his beard already neatly braided, the very image of order. His head was clean-shaven, the blue waistcoat over the white shirt fitted neatly, even if it was a little tight around the belly, his boots clean and a smile on his lips. The dwarf looked more like he should be staying in one of the inns up in the city proper rather than down here.

“Good morning”, he greeted her, then “Oh–”, when he noticed her hair. “I've put so much effort into it.”

“You may thank Älyan for that”, Giræsea said sotto voce, but then added: “No, Thor, seriously, I got a new one.” She raised the drawing to draw his attention to it and his face darkened. “... oh…” – “Yes.” He stroked his beard while he thought about it and then finally looked up at her again. “Come. Let’s have breakfast first. I don’t want to discuss any bad news on an empty stomach.”

She had no objection and so she followed him along the corridor and up the stairs into the tap room. Unlike when she'd returned last night, it was now well attended. It was mainly humans who had gathered here to have breakfast - or lunch? Was it already that late? - to find something to eat for a small coin. How long have I been sleeping?

The smell of fat, spices and beer hit Giræsea. At least that would lift her spirits a little. While Thorgest went to the innkeeper at the counter and ordered for them, Giræsea looked for an empty table and sat down. When he joined her and placed a mug of thin beer in front of her, she asked: “Do you know where Älyan is? Has she told you anything?”

He took a big draught before answering. “Oh, you know her. On the hunt again. She mentioned something about taking a trip beyond the inner wall, somewhere up the Thuurith.” He seemed far less concerned than Giræsea when he told her Älyan's destination. An elf in Merun was dicey enough, but in the upper city?

“She should be more careful.”

“Aye”, Thorgest sighed. “But you know as well as I: it’s her curse. Once it’s taken root inside her head, we can’t stop her. And you know she can look out for herself.”

“I’d rather she didn’t have to. It’s enough for her to carry that round, she shouldn’t wake it.” How could he be so old and yet be so careless about it? She had better bring a good story for what Giræsea's heart had gone through. 

Thorgest waved it off. “She’ll be back. Trust.” He took another sip and then became serious; his bushy brows drawing together. He pointed at the turned over sheet of parchment on the table. “May I?” She slid him the sketch.

As he was looking at it, she began: “I don’t know where that is, but I think I’ve been there before. Somewhere in the Sea of Sands. Probably an Asin judging by the walls. I was standing there, in front of the gate, and there in the distance were no longer the rolling hills of sand, no longer the fine dust listening in the wind, no horizon, there was only this wall rolling inexorably towards it.”

He pointed at a spot in the sand storm. “Do you know what that is?” She denied. She didn’t know exactly what she had seen. Yes, there had been shapes in the uniform yellow-brown, but she didn’t know what they meant. But they had also rolled relentlessly towards the city.

“Gods, this cannot be any good sign.”

“Do you know the place”, she asked him.

“No, but give me some time. My memory isn’t the best anymore.” He didn’t look up from the drawing. “How clear was the dream.”

She pointed to the parchment. “As clear as you see it here.”

“That’s not good. That’s not good at all.” He handed her back the drawing. “It is too clear. Too precise.” He ran his hand over his bald head, visibly agitated. “I– I don’t know what city that is. The only thing I know for sure…” He trailed off; continued more quietly. “... is that we can’t do anything. It will happen. Probably soon. Maybe it already happened and you’re only seeing it now. There is only the question why you’re seeing it. The Dreammother seems to deem it important.”

“She could express herself a little more precisely”, Giræsea complained. “We're groping in the dark here, while I just keep dreaming about how everything is going to the dogs.”

“Enjoy your breakfast first and then we'll see. Somehow we'll manage.”