“That bastard!” Markel spit. “How dare he trick us in this fashion.” He threw the worthless stones as far away from him as he could. “I am going back there and demand that he pay us!”

The wizard stood and put a strong hand on Markel’s arm to stop him from charging back to the city. “Hold on, my friend,” he said calmly. “Have you forgotten how we came by those dragon scales which you sold to the prince of Gar?”

Markel stopped and rubbed a hand over his face. “By the gods,” he said. “Indeed, I did forget.” He looked up at Fallon and smiled. “I suppose we should be getting as far away from here as possible, eh?”

Fallon nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “I feel Gar will be a place we should not be near for quite some time.” He turned and gazed back toward the city. “The spell I put on those pieces of sheet metal will also have worn off at sunrise, and I fear that Prince Snowden will be sorely angry when he discovers that his dragon scales are but mere iron.”

“Vinra is quite nice this time of year,” Markel said after a moment of deep thought, “and I have not been home for some time.”

“That sounds as good a place as any to lay low for a while,” Fallon said. They both turned and began to walk toward the sunrise and away from the city of Gar.

“Do we have anything with which to break our fast?” Markel asked as his stomach rumbled.

“Not a thing,” Fallon replied, “but I am sure something will present itself. It always does.”

“Aye, that it does,” Markel said and took another swallow of wine, then handed the skin to his friend.

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