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Frank had several rooms upstairs. Evan picked one and went up to unpack and change his clothes. He was here to rest, so for the time being at least, he would put aside his responsibilities and try to be an average citizen. Evan thought about this and wished he had packed some non-priestly clothes so he could dress like the other folks in town.

"Guess, I'll have to go shopping", Evan thought.

Yet at the same time the thought raised concern in the priest's mind. He had not dressed as an average person since he became a demon hunter. To do so now was like a sheepdog wearing a ram's pelt and pretending to be part of the flock. On the other hand, these were his people. He had grown up here. He did not want to make them anxious or nervous because he wore the traditional garb of his order.

"Better to pose as one of them", he thought. "And who knows, maybe wearing something less formal will help Frank get past the fact that I'm a Michaeline priest."

Evan pushed open the door to his room and looked around with the skilled eye he had developed as a demon hunter. A large four-poster bed filled the center of the room. Pale green, cotton drapes covered the windows and a chest for storing quilts and blankets sat at the foot of the bed. A night table with a lamp on it had been placed to the right of the bed and to the left was a wide table next to a narrow fireplace.

Realizing that he was scanning the room for signs of evil, he stopped himself. "Frank runs a good inn he reminded himself. And I'm here to rest. I can't do that if I keep searching for evil."

Evan dropped his saddlebags just inside the door and flopped on the bed. It was soft. He thought about sleeping but aside from the fatigue of riding for the last several hours Evan was not overly tired. His stomach growled; he was hungry. He decided to eat first then shop for some clothes.

He sat up and went downstairs into the dining room. Ten tables were randomly placed. Heating the room was a double hearth on the far wall. An open area in front of the fireplace was covered in cobblestones forming a crude stage. A chandelier hung from a long iron chain in the center of the room. The iron chain was tied to a mounting plate on the back wall.

Evan saw no one on stage and only one or two tables occupied. As he sat down at an empty table, Frank came over.

"Frank, are you waiting tables?" said Evan.

"For the next few days, yes."

"Why? Where's your serving girl?"

"In the function room with my dishwasher, bard, and two old mages I hired to entertain my guests. They are guarding Tindolen's gem," the innkeeper said with resignation.

Evan shook his head to clear it. Something didn't make sense here. Tindolen was Clearbrook's elven jeweler and had been for over two hundred years. But why was Frank's staff guarding one of his gems?

"They're..." Evan stopped in disbelief. "But they aren't guardsmen. Why are they guarding it? Can't Tindolen afford his own guards?"

"It's a long story," Frank explained. "Mayor Bigsbee decided it was time to celebrate St.