The Lonely Ogre was a dockside inn, albeit one of the better ones. He barely noticed as he followed Shanna and the dark elf Sam across the common room to the stairs at the back; he was too busy concentrating on staying upright. Sam stepped aside at the bottom of the staircase and motioned for him to keep following Shanna. "Are you sure you want to be under me if I fall?"
Sam just chuckled. "I could carry you up if you'd prefer, big boy."
Darvinin shook his head and started up the stairs, keeping one hand carefully on the rail.
"Besides," added Sam, "the view is better from back here."
Shanna glanced back and smiled, but Darvinin just shook his head.
They reached the top of the stairs and Darvinin stopped, half-afraid to let go of the railing even on flat ground. Sam took his arm and guided him along, taking his weight easily when he swayed into her. The hallway wasn't too narrow, at least. They followed Shanna to a door, where she knocked in a complicated pattern before lifting the latch. She swung the door open and stepped inside.
The room beyond turned out to be a suite: several bedrooms and a bathing-room set around a central area which contained two long couches and a table. There was a halfling sitting in a wooden chair at the table, and a forest cat curled up on one of the couches.
Another familiar voice said, "Did you have any luck?" and then Mistra stepped out of one of the bedrooms. She looked just as she had when they were guarding the king; she still wore the uniform of the King's Own.
Darvinin stopped cold, forced himself upright, closed his gaping mouth, and said: "Mistra?"
Then he threw up all over the floor.