softened by her beauty, Adon tried to console her. ”I know this assignment will be difficult for you,“ he said. ”But it requires someone with an independent spirit. That's why I chose you.“ Corene did not answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the far edge of the veranda. Adon turned to see what had captured her attention. There, standing just inside the cafe's entrance, was a handsome newcomer. The man had striking features, with high cheekbones, a dark brow, and a roguish mop of auburn hair that hung down to his collar. His figure was trim and solid, with broad shoulders covered by a fur-lined cape and a narrow waist entwined by a cummerbund of the finest purple silk. Ignoring Aden's presence, the fellow flashed a scoundrel's smile at Corene. The newcomer moved toward the back of the veranda. At the same moment, Sarafina stepped out of the kitchen with a covered basket. As soon as her eyes fell on the stranger, the basket slipped from her hands, spilling slices of dark bread over the floor. She backed toward the door, yelling, ”Father, come quickly!“ ”What's wrong?“ Adon asked, rising to his feet. ”Do you need help?“ The stranger paused to sneer at him. ”If you know what's good for you, traveler, you'll tend to your own business.“ Myron came bustling out of the kitchen and placed his brawny form between his daughter and the stranger. ”Tell your master no, Broka,“ said the innkeeper. ”The answer was no yesterday, and tomorrow it'll still be no.“ ”I must hear that from your daughter's lips,“ said Broka. He bent down and began gathering up the bread Sarafina had dropped. ”Why don't you take this to your guests? I'm aware that you've a shortage of customers these days, and it wouldn't do to let these go hungry.“ ”We've no complaints,“ said Adon. He moved toward the handsome stranger, intentionally leaving his mace behind. If it became necessary to intervene on behalf of Sarafina, there were more effective ways to do it than by resorting to weapons. Myron raised his hand. ”Stay out of this,“ he said. ”I can protect my own daughter.“ Broka returned to his feet and shoved the refilled basket toward Myron. ”Protect her from whom?“ he asked. ”I've only come to ask a question of fair Sarafina.“ ”Then ask and be gone," Myron said. He slammed the basket onto the table
next to him. Broka smiled wickedly at Sarafina, “Are you ready to return the love of my master?” “No!” she yelled. “I'll never be ready-even if he turns me into a harpy!” “Are you sure?” Broka asked. He stepped past Myron, at the same time reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small mirror. “Have a look at yourself, and remember that all the women of Tegea share your fate.” He reached for Sarafina's veil, but Myron shoved him away. As Broka fell to the floor, the mirror flew out of his hand and shattered against a chair. “How dare you touch me!” Broka leaped to his feet, a dagger in his hand. As Broka stepped toward Myron, Adon smiled. The lout was providing him with a perfect opportunity to prove his power. Calling upon the magic of his goddess, the patriarch cast a spell that would make the dagger too hot to hold. Nothing happened. Adon stared at his hand in dumbfounded shock. Something was terribly wrong. Broka grabbed Myron and pressed the blade to the innkeeper's throat. “Perhaps you'd remember your place if you looked more like your daughter,” he hissed. “Do something!” whispered Corene, stepping to Adon's side. Following her patriarch's lead, she had left her weapon on the table. “He'll be killed!” Desperate to save the innkeeper, Adon attempted another spell. This time, a ray of green radiance sizzled from his fingertip, leaving a streak of white vapor in its wake. When the beam hit the blade, a high-pitched chime rang across the veranda. The knife shattered into a dozen shards. Broka cried out in surprise, then tossed his useless hilt aside and stepped out of Myron's reach. “Before you leave, I suggest you apologize to Sarafina and her father,” Adon said. Broka whirled around to face the cleric. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded. “A bullyboy who torments