When consciousness crept back to him, he was lying on a floor, still in owl-shape and loosely wrapped with a blanket. The arrow still impaled his left wing, but the haft had been broken off, and the wound loosely wrapped. For a moment Roland forgot his discovery and panicked retreat, and knew only he wanted to be relieved of the pain in his arm. With infinite care, he shifted back into man-form, grabbed what was left of the arrow's haft, grit his teeth, and pulled.

The initial pain was horrible, but he muted his cry against it. He had known worse, and would heal--already his wounds from the nightwalker's claws had mended, and his arm would be whole by morning. Already the pain was fading.

Remembering the nightwalker led him to remember everything else, and he looked around. He was in someone's kitchen, sitting by the hearth, where a small fire burned and warmed a little kettle. The floor was wood, as were the walls, and the couple windows Roland could see had their little curtains drawn across them. There was a little stove, a table for preparing food, and another to sit at and eat, with low benches flanking it.

Upon one of these benches, he discovered the man who was either his rescuer or his captor, and gave a little start of surprise. Roland rarely forgot a face, and the wiry, dark-haired man was Tavarez, the foreigner from the Dancing Duchess. He had black eyes that twinkled amiably in the fire's light.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

With a little grunt, Roland flicked the arrow-tip at the fire. The wooden head and fragment of haft were quick to ignite. "Are you genuinely concerned, or biding time for the mob?" Roland asked in turn, tiredly, but not bitterly. He could hold no ill will towards the fellow men that had become his enemies.

"Genuinely concerned. I have no intention of seeing you staked or burned or buried with poppy seeds, or any of those things you told us about. In fact, you may recall that I caught you out of the air after you took your nasty fall...."

Roland sighed, fingering what remained of his clothing. "I remember.... Thank you. You've done yourself no favors, if the rest of the townsfolk find out, but you've done me one no other man would do, so...thank you."

Tavarez leaned on his little table, propping his chin in his hand. "I honestly can't imagine I'm the only one that would help you. Alright, maybe in this town, judging from that mob, but certainly not in the whole world. You're a fine man, Roland. Far more a paladin than a daywalker."

The hapless paladin gave his rescuer a sad smile. "You are from faraway lands indeed, to have so open a mind. Perhaps I should flee to your homelands, when my business is settled here."

Tavarez thought for only a moment. "The other owl?"

"Clever man," Roland nodded, though his face fell with shame. "It was not the nightwalker that sired that one, but me. I cannot escape the need to feed on human blood, though usually I am able to perform the rites that keep a body from turning. But not with that one. The nightwatch interrupted me, and now...." He buried his face in his hands. "I have to find him and put him to rest."

"And he is a daywalker, like you."

"Yes," Roland agreed, lifting his head again. "And I...have never faced another daywalker before. The one that turned me was the first I'd ever known, and he did not stay around once he was sure his great irony had been a success. I do not know if I could win, but I cannot lose, either."

"You sound like a man who needs help."

"And who would help me?" Roland asked with another sorrowful smile. "You?"

Tavarez spread his hands helplessly. "I am just an explorer, I'm afraid. Catching falling owls, I can do. Outrunning mobs, I can do that too. But hunting a daywalker...."

"You have already done more for me than any other man," Roland stated, shrugging off the blanket around him and carefully standing, "I will leave you, then, and trouble you no more."

Roland turned to look for a door, but Tavarez caught him by the sleeve--or by what was left of it, anyhow. "Now hold on a minute. Maybe I can't directly help, myself, but I think I might know a place where you could find someone who can. Not to mention I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you leave without helping you at least get some new clothes...."

The paladin eyed Tavarez with doubt that warred with the desire to be able to believe. "Where?"

Tavarez motioned for Roland to be seated again, and Roland obeyed, easing himself down on the other bench, unknowingly settling in for what would be a very long and interesting conversation.

"Tell me," Tavarez began, "do you know what a dragon is?"