"May I take your rags sir?" the thin man said to Reginald.

    "Take them where?" the were-sheep asked.

    "I think I know a deep hole that would suit," the manservant replied, picking up the remains of Reginald''s clothes with the very tips of his fingers. Holding them at arms length, he turned and moved serenely out of the door.

    The urchin, who had been left sitting outside, had led them to some kind of bathhouse for the gentry, which Urt had insisted they were. Apparently they would able to have a good cleanse here, and order new clothes to boot.

    He was now shucking off his own clothes, as Reginald slipped into some robe the bathhouse had provided, which appeared to be made of parchment.

    Urt had removed the candlestick that had remained with him from Bethany the Blue''s house, and given it and, with some reluctance, the purse of loot to the front desk, who had ?ssured him that it would be kept safe in their vault during their visit. Now he slipped off his robes which, being of fairly good quality, and simply dirty and battered, he decided to keep. He could give them back to the Hag perhaps. He paused for a moment, thinking of the witch, and then decided that wasn''t a good idea whilst standing n?k?d and exposed.

    He was folding the robe up when something fell out of the pocket. The letter, from the large girl''s room in Mudrut! He''d forgotten about it in all the recent underground excitement.

    Picking it up, he placed his robes off to one side, and donned the paper robe.

    "What''s that?" Reginald asked, wandering up.

    "A letter," Urt said, breaking the seal and unfolded the thick parchment that was within. On it, written in familiar script, was a note addressed to him.

    "Well come on then, don''t just stand there looking constipated, read it," the weresheep said.

    "I''m not looking constipated," Urt replied testily. Even so, he read it out loud, mainly to stop Reginald from rubbing up against him whilst peering over his shoulder.

    "Urt," he read. "If you''re reading this then I''m gone, or you''ve killed me. In which case, congratulations, killing your master is an age old tradition in the necromantic trade. If not, well never mind, there''s always next time."

    "If I''ve left, then I''ve judged you ready to take on your destiny."

    "Ooh, you have a destiny. Cool." Reginald interjected.

    "Hush." Urt carried on, fascinated.

    "I''m not going to tell you what it is, because that''s just not how these things work, you''ll find out one way or another. Besides, I don''t like to make things that easy, where''s the fun in that? However, I will say that it''s a biggie."

    "Either way, it''s time you left that miserable swamp we''ve been hiding in and seek..." Urt paused, trying to read the text, which had been smudged beyond recognition, no doubt during their subterranean misadventures. "Damn it, can''t make out what it says."

    "Never mind for now," Reg said. "Carry on."

    Urt did. "...in Banesville and collect..." Urt squinted. "Something. Maybe sword?"

    "Looks like ''school'' to me," Reginald said.

    "How would it be school?" Urt scoffed. "Go to Banesville and collect a school? How does that make any sense?"

    "Okay okay, just trying to help. What else does it say?"

    Urt carried on. "You''ve been a good student all told, perhaps a bit too obedient, but that will pass as your power and arrogance grows. Maybe we''ll meet again someday, and have that traditional battle to the death thing."

    "Your mentor, Mangle." Urt lowered the sheet.

    "Ah, well that''s lovely," Reginald said.

    "It certainly answers some questions," Urt said, thoughtfully, folding the letter up again and putting it back in the envelope.

    "Well then," Reginald said cheerfully, seeing the thin manservant approach. "Shall we bathe m''lord?"

    ~ * ~

    "I want him found!" Reckless stood surrounded by bodies and screamed. "I want him found at once and brought to me! Alive!" She looked at her remaining companions and guards, who were only to cowering from her wrath. "Well?" she screamed. "What are you waiting for?"

    Needing no further encouragement, they left, fighting with each other to get out of the door, leaving only her closest companion and adviser, Bon, behind.

    As usual, Bon stood calmly. He was used to dealing with her rages, although this one had been a doozy. It was a good job there had been plenty of these rat people around for her to focus her... Focus on. He looked at the scattered bodies and wrinkled his nose. Who would have thought all of this was down here? If the castle under-mage hadn''t tracked the escaped were-beast using magic, they would have never found it at all.

    Sensing that the worst had passed, Bon approached Reckless.

    "Who is he?" he asked, simply.

    "I don''t know."

    Bon raised an eyebrow.

    "I don''t!" she declared. "Well, he''s..." She paused and looked uncertain, which was an alien expression on her face. "He''s been in my dreams," she went on, quietly now, almost to herself. "I''ve seen his face all of my life, but recently more and more. When I saw him in the hall..." She shook her head, making her blonde mane swirl around her. "When I saw him, I thought he was just another vision. And then I realised, he was actually there! And the power he has." She looked at Bon. "I want him found!" she repeated.

    "I will arrange search parties immediately," he replied.

    "Do so. Do so," she said, looking around her again. "And get this mess cleaned up."

    Bon nodded once more as she whirled about and stormed out of the were-rat den. He took a deep breath, regretted it, and then turned to follow her. This needed some thinking about.

    ~ * ~

    "Well, I have to say this is much better," Reginald said, as they stepped out onto the street.

    Urt agreed, unconsciously stroking his new robes.

    After their much needed wash, in a fine private pool filled with hot water drawn from some natural springs underground, they had moved on to another room, where a tailor had been summoned from a nearby establishment. After some intense haggling, which Reginald mostly did, showing a surprising knack for it, they had procured some new threads.

    Feeling he had to keep with traditional, Urt had kept his garments mostly black, but had added a deep red lining to his waistcoat, which he thought added a touch of rebellion to the whole outfit. He''d retained the cloak the Hag had given him, once it had been washed and dried, feeling that the quality was good enough, and prudently trying to restrict his still reasonable, but limited, finances.

    He''d bought Reginald a whole set of clothes though, as the old ones had been, he''d been ?ssured, disposed of permanently. For him, Urt had agreed on a sensible outfit of good, hard wearing brown material, with special catches to enable speedy undressing if needed. There was also a degree of elasticity built into the trousers. The one new addition had been a wide brimmed hat which the were-sheep had taken a fancy to.

    Suitably attired, they had recovered their valuables, with the treasure pouch somewhat lighter - although less than it would have been if Reginald hadn''t traded the candlestick in as part of the deal - and were ushered outside.

    "Wow, how long were we in there?" Reginald asked, looking up at the night sky.

    "Too long," Urt replied, slightly annoyed at himself for getting so distracted with the whole affair. "Come on, we need to get to our room. Hopefully Lucy and Horace made it back there."

    With directions taken from the bath house staff, the two trotted back double-time, only getting slightly lost once along the way.