Later, it was said the birl came from the north, from Ropers Gate. She came on foot. It was late afternoon and the ropers’, saddlers’ and tanners' stalls were already closed, the street empty. It was hot but the birl had a black coat thrown over her shoulders. She drew attention to herself.

She stopped in front of the Old Narakort Inn, stood there for a moment, and listened to the voices. It was full of people.

She did not enter the Old Narakort. She came farther down the street to another tavern, a smaller one, called The Fox.

The innkeeper raised her head above a barrel and measured the birl. The stranger, still in her coat, stood in front of the counter, motionless and silent.

“What will it be?”

“Beer,” said the stranger.

The innkeeper wiped her hands and filled a tankard.

The stranger’s hair was almost white. Beneath her coat she wore worn leather clothes laced up at the neck and shoulders.

As she took off her coat those around her noticed that she carried a sword.

The stranger did not sit at the table with the few other guests. She remained standing at the counter, piercing the innkeeper with her gaze. She drank from the tankard.

“I’m looking for a room for the night.”

“There's none,” the innkeeper said, looking at the guest's boots. “Ask at the Old Narakort.”

“I would rather stay here.”

“There is none.” The innkeeper recognized the stranger's accent. She was a Rivian.

“I’ll pay.” The outsider said.

Another birl got up and approached the counter. Two of her companions rose behind her.

“There's no room to be had, you Rivian,” the birl said, standing right next to the outsider. “We don't need people like you in Wyzim. This is a decent town!”

The outsider took her tankard and moved away. She glanced at the innkeeper, who avoided her eyes.

“All Rivians are thieves,” the birl went on. “Do you hear me, you bastard?”

“She can't hear you. Her ears are full of fuck,” one of the birls with her said, and the second birl laughed..

“Pay and leave!” the birl yelled.

Only now did the Rivian look at her.

“I’ll finish my beer.”

“We'll give you a hand,” the birl hissed. She knocked the tankard from the stranger's hand. She grabbed her by the shoulder. The outsider curled up on the spot, throwing the birl off balance. The sword hissed in its sheath and glistened in the dim light. The place seethed. There was a scream, and one of the few remaining customers tumbled toward the exit. A chair fell with a crash smacked against the floor. The innkeeper looked at the slashed face of the birl, who was sinking from sight by becoming a bunch of dust. The other two were lying on the floor, one motionless. A woman screamed.

The stranger retreated toward the wall. She held the sword in both hands, sweeping it through the air. No one moved.

Three guards rushed into the tavern. They drew their swords.

The Rivian pressed her back against the wall and pulled a dagger from her boot.

“Throw that down!” one of the guards yelled with a trembling voice. “Throw that down, you thug! You're coming with us!”

The second guard kicked aside the table between herself and the Rivian.

“Go get the birls, Treska!” She shouted to the third guard, who had stayed closer to the door.

“No need,” the stranger said, lowering her sword. “I’ll come by myself.”

“You'll go, you child of a bitch, on the end of a rope!” the trembling guard said. “Throw that sword down or I’ll smash your head in!”

The Rivian straightened. She pinned her blade. She drew a sign in the air.

The guards drew back, shielding their faces with their arms. One of the customers sprang up while another ran to the door. The woman screamed again.

“I’ll come by myself,” the stranger said. “And the three of you will go in front of me. Take me to the castellan. I don't know the way.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, dropping her head. She went toward the exit, looking around. The other two guards followed her out backward. The stranger followed in their tracks, sheathing her sword and dagger.