They wound back through the Tower grounds and before they left, Katerin ducked aside, and cast the spell over herself, so she looked like Nessia once again. They left the Tower behind, and no one bothered them, as they sauntered  through busy, cobbled streets, towards the Boars Backstrap. Katerin was eager to see Spindle and Gracie. It had been a long time, and she was worried over their safety, as they hosted these strange resistance meetings.

Her pace quickened the closer they got to the tavern, so much so that Fykes gently tugged on her hand, and slowed her steps.

"You're rushing. Rushing draws attention."

Brazen nodded emphatically, though he had been the slowest of the group by far, gawking at the buildings. Though Katerin could not blame him. He had seen Itrea, and he had seen Alkyrindaun. And to put those two places side by side was like looking at burlap and silk, respectively. So she was not about to deny him all the joy that the sight of the city held.

She scoffed at Fykes, but conceded his point. It was not as if slowing her pace would harm her, but it had been a subconscious pull. Would the Tavern be the same? Would it still hold all its paintings, the smell of food, oiled wood and pipe smoke? Would there still be a stain on the far right table in the corner, where Kindra had split Mordai's eyebrow open on one rowdy night?

Her footsteps slowed to match Fykes, and she took his arm, fighting against that pull. The cobbled streets of the city sounded the same under her feet, and she took the time on their walk to glance around at the storefronts and the people, to see how it all had changed. There were fresh coats of paint and plaster in places, brighter colored clothes, but the city seemed much the same to Katerin, as it had when she had been an adolescent, only quieter.

When they entered the Tavern, they found it rather quiet. Only four other souls inhabited the space, and from the corner of Katerin's eye, she saw one of the patrons cast a judging glance her way. Must be extra security, she thought.

She was not sure if she believed Lugaria's words about the tavern yet, or not. Spindle and Gracie had always been soft-hearted, kind people. But she was not sure if she could understand them hiding and abetting a resistance. Her breath caught as she watched Spindle at the bar, his gray wispy hair seeming the same as it always had, the same the long wrinkles on his face there from years of laughter. Gracie emerged from the kitchen, dusting off her apron in her stern manner, and Katerin had to fight her urge to rush and hug them both. She squeezed Fykes' hand one final time, before releasing it and joining Arjiah and Brazen at their table on the right side of the room.

Brazen faced the door, and Arjiah's chair was askew, so she could keep a watchful eye over the room, and though both were trying to look absorbed in their food, they looked alert to Katerin.

"Should I talk to them now, or wait? Another hour and things will get crowded." Katerin could not tear her eyes away from Spindle and Gracie.

"Wait," Fykes said. "Crowds are good."

"How are you going to convince them?" Brazen asked. "You don't exactly look like you."

Before Katerin could answer, Gracie was at their table. "Newcomers, hmm? I recommend the stew, but I also have lamb, and a fresh store of rice just in from the traders."

The lack of recognition on Gracie's face tore at Katerin deeper than she would have thought, and in her mind Lodyne's voice came softly.

She won't care, Katerin. She's a business woman. She was never your friend.

Though Gracie had approached Katerin first, it was Fykes who spoke up in her silence, with a charming smile and a nudge to Katerin's leg under the table. "I'll have the stew," he said, with his charming smile. "And a mug of ale would be pleasing."

You're getting distracted, Katerin. Lodyne's voice was almost amused.

Gracie stared at Katerin for only a moment more, as she turned to Fykes with a nod. "How rich is your taste?"

"Oh, middling," Fykes said. "Nessia?" He looked to Katerin with telltale alarm in his eyes.

Katerin shook herself. "Apologies. You looked momentarily familiar. I'll have the same."

Gracie offered a polite smile. "Travel can be rough on the toughest of souls. I'll be back just shortly with your meal."

As Gracie left, three sets of eyes turned toward Katerin.

"What happened?" Fykes asked.

"Nothing... I...it startled me that she didn't recognize me." Katerin forced her breath to calm and suppressed her shiver of unease. She had told no one that Lodyne spoke to her during her waking hours.

It would only raise more alarm, and there was nothing to be done about the goddess at the moment. This was about Hearth-Home and Mordai. Any other matters would only complicate her thoughts.

Brazen stared at her face for a long moment, and she could see a question beginning to form in his eyes, but Gracie in all her haste returned from the kitchen and Brazen's gaze was lost as he gave thanks.

As the evening fell, more patrons trickled into the tavern, and it surprised Katerin to find that she recognized very few. She watched several people speak to Gracie quietly. Some sat long enough to have a mug of ale or a shot of rum, before they trickled into the back room of the inn. Once there was loud chatter around them, Katerin and Fykes told Arjiah and Brazen of their conversation with Halemeda. And after some discussion, Katerin stood, glancing toward the bar.

"If I don't go now, I never will," she said. She kissed Fykes on the cheek. "I'll try and get them away from the crowd, so I can show them my face...." She held up a small piece of parchment, with ink scribbled across it in her straight yet messy hand. 'I am Katerin Moonshadow' it read.

"Not to be the cynical one," Brazen said. "But what if they want to turn you in?"

"Then we run. But I have to try."

"Just try not to be too rash and get the guards called," Arjiah said, with a smirk.

"I'll do my best." With that, Katerin approached the bar, finding a spot with a free stool, next to a woman who was snoring with her head in her hands. Katerin waited to catch Spindles attention, as he worked the bar and readied a myriad of drinks. Finally, when he approached her, it was with a wide smile.

"What might I get for the lady?"

"I'd like an anvil, please," Katerin said, and crossed her fingers. An anvil was a drink that had been of her fathers own concoction. A mixture of dark dwarven beer, with a shot of Cadaran whiskey floated atop it, and then a grating of bitter spices over the top of that.

Spindles eyes grew wide and incredulous as he looked at her. "Where'd you hear of such a thing?"

"An old acquaintance."

"You're not old enough for old acquaintances, if you'll pardon my saying so." Spindle kept his smile in place, and though his tone was frank, it was still cheery.

"I heard this place made a strange drink, and I'd like to try it." Katerin knew she was on thin ice, but she also knew she could not just out and say her name, unless she wanted trouble.

Spindle looked at her for a moment longer, before he shook his head. "I haven't made one in years, so please counter your expectations." He pulled a mug from a shelf above his head and began pouring the beer, while Katerin reached for her coin purse.

"How much?"

"Three silver should do," he answered hesitantly, as he pushed the drink towards her.

She pulled the coins free and layered the parchment beneath them, as she handed them over.

Spindle looked at the parchment with a quick glare, before he set it behind the counter, and moved on to his other patrons.

Katerin grimaced, now unsure of what to do. She could not convince the man of anything if he did not take the time to read the note, so she sat and sipped the drink she had requested. It was bitter, and strong, and held a flavor that she had both missed, and despised. It was not a drink that was drank for pleasure, despite the warming effect of the Cadaran whiskey.

Her father had no taste in alcohol, Imeiza had always said so, and now she could not help but to agree.

When spindle had another moment free, he approached her. "The drink?"

"Awful, though I think it's no fault of yours." She laughed, the sound of her illusioned voice strange in her own ears.

Spindle leaned forward, just over the bar. "Now, I know you're new, but we don't take kindly to secrets. I would... encourage you to state your business with your own mouth, so I might judge its honesty."

"I'm trying, Spindle. But if you read the note, it would help me. I promise you it's nothing sinister." Katerin caught a glance of Brazen from the corner of her eye, and he was seated rigidly, watching her conversation with the thin Barkeep.

Spindle leaned back on his heels, as if confused by her words, before he picked up her note and folded it open between his palms. He blinked several times and looked at Katerin, before he shook his head. "No, you aren't, and you ought to know better than to play games. Anywhere else in the city, and they might throw you in a cell for your games." His tone dropped to the most silent of whispers. "She's likely the most wanted soul in this city, at the moment, and it isn't a joke."

"Spindle," she pleaded, her hands clenching. "It's me. Get Gracie and meet me in the back room. I can prove it." The drunken woman to Katerin's side stirred, and she leaned away from the bar, grasping her drink.

Spindle sighed, eyeing her with distrust. "Go back to your table and leave your games."

She gave him the best look of pleading she could conjure up on a face that was not her own, but moved back to the table and sat next to Fykes with a pinched expression. "I don't think he bought it."

"You could just drop the disguise," Brazen said.

Katerin shook her head. "Do you know how many people would fight over a reward from the... king? This isn't Itrea. These people value coin and their own skin more than the face of a woman they don't know."

Fykes nodded. "Even if they didn't challenge you themselves, they would tell the guards for a single coin."

"We should just wait," Arjiah reasoned. "You said your family was close to them. Maybe he'll change his mind."

Katerin grimaced and took another sip of the dark and bitter drink.

"What in the name of the gods is that?" Arjiah asked, looking at the almost black color and swirls of spices.

"This is an anvil. My father's favorite drink."

Arjiah held out a hand, and after her, both Fykes and Brazen tried it, too. Arjiah seemed appalled, Fykes appeared respectful, but Brazen grinned.

"This is amazing." He took another drink and did not offer the mug back.

Katerin could not decide if his enjoyment of it appalled her, or overjoyed her. She shrugged, relieved that she did not have to drink anymore of the concoction, and laughed. "You can keep it."

As Brazen finished the drink, Spindle approached their table, one hand tugging on his clean apron. "Come on, then. If it is you, you already know we don't like tricks."

Katerin rose and her companions followed, before Spindle held up a hand. "Only her. There're no weapons in this tavern, and I don't need trouble. So if you could kindly wait," he said, eyeing them all, but especially Fykes and Brazen with suspicion.

Katerin watched unease cross Brazen's face. "It's fine," she promised. "I'll be right back."

She followed the short and wispy man through the crowded room, and into the flickering torchlight of the storage room. It smelled of must, and wood, and fermentation. Gracie stood in the middle of the room, clutching a broom as though it was a weapon. As soon as the door shut, Gracie turned a wrinkled stare onto Katerin.

"If you aren't who you say you are, I'll beat you out of my tavern and never let you back."

Katerin held up her hands, though she could not help but smile at Gracie's sternness. "And if I am who I say I am?"

Both only stared at her, waiting, with apprehensive expressions. Stubborn old coots, she thought, as her heart picked up pace. She spoke under her breath, and the magic of her false appearance faded away.

She took a relieving breath, as she felt the magic dissipate. The spell to change her appearance was almost like wearing a corset. It was uncomfortable, but at a level that was unnoticeable, until she removed herself of it.

Gracie blinked and Spindle began grinning like a loon. He took two steps forward before Gracie grabbed his arm.

"You look like our girl, though, the tattoos don't match."

"Ah," Katerin glanced at the faintly glowing blue lines on her arms. "A recent acquisition, and not one that was fully my choice."

Spindle stepped back, noticing his wife's suspicions. "How do we know you can't just change your appearance?"

"The drink choice wasn't proof enough?"

"Not these days," Gracie's tone was almost apologetic.

Katerin sighed. "When I was fourteen, I had just discovered I could climb the top of the Tower, and my father forbade me from it. When I slipped and cut my arm open, you sewed it up for me, Spindle." She turned to Gracie. "You always let me have a sip of rum on festival days, from the flask you keep in your coat. Mordai tried to steal it once, after I told him about it. You caught us, made us clean the entire kitchen after the harvest celebration. And you still told my father."

Her words drew laughter from both of them, and the tension eased.

Spindle grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Did you get taller or did I get shorter?"

"You got shorter, dear," Gracie said. "What about the tattoos? And those people with you?"

"They aren't tattoos, but that's a lengthy story. The people with me are my... friends."

"You look comfortable with the one," Spindle said, mischief flickering in his dark blue eyes.

"I am," Katerin said, smiling.

"Go get them and introduce us," he insisted.

Katerin looked down to her clothes with a sigh.

"Ill get them," Gracie said. "We need to catch up, and there might be no reason for you to go back with the magic on."

"What?"

"There's some people you should meet," Gracie said, before she was through the door again.

Katerin sighed as Gracie shut the door. All I'm asking for is answers, she thought.

Spindle looked at her with a slight smile that flickered between the worry in his eyes. "Did you... did you help Mordai into all of this?"

"No." Katerin wanted to say many things, but all that came out was the simplest of answers. "I came here to fix it."

"I heard you've found some measure of success on your trip. Imeiza said in her last letter that you were a lady... did you find your mother?"

Katerin let a smile slip through her unease. "I did. She is... a brave woman."

"Your father had excellent taste in people." Spindle stepped forward. "I still miss him."

Katerin fought back the catch in her breath. "I do, too... Spindle? Who are the people I'm supposed to meet? Does it have anything to do with all the... activity you are keeping here?"

Spindle's eyes widened. "You know about that?"

Katerin nodded. "I will say I'm surprised."

The man shrugged. "It seems like the thing to do, considering recent events. Mordai was always trouble, and forgive me for thinking it, but he is no king of mine."

"Nor mine," Katerin said. Before she could ask any further questions, Gracie opened the door, with Fykes, Arjiah, and Brazen following her.

Introductions were made, and Gracie finally smiled, turning to Katerin. "Getting out of the city was good for you, I see."

"It had its difficulties. Gracie, Spindle told me who you want me to meet, but... from what I know, they're looking for me too."

"They want your help," Gracie said. "They know you used to be close with our.... current ruler."

Katerin chewed on her lip. "You know that several members are of the Syndicate, right? I... I've never enjoyed the thought of working beside them."

"Aye, we know there's some from the Syndicate, some from the castle, and some from the slums," Spindle said. "But they want this chaos to end."

"In a favorable way for them, or for the good of the people?"

Gracie's jaw flexed, but she sighed. "You're always cautious at the wrong times, Katerin."

"Maybe, but that's worked out alright for me."

Fykes let out a soft chuckle at her words, and Arjiah was standing forward, always waiting for the right moment to introduce logic and calm thinking into a conversation.

Spindle sighed. "Do you think we would welcome anyone who wished the city harm? We both have lived and worked here our whole lives. This tavern is all we have."

"I'm not saying they're in the wrong," Katerin held up one hand. "I'm saying that I know for a fact my name was mentioned in a Syndicate meeting. I'm only here to check in on you, gather some of my stepmothers belongings, and find Kindra."

Gracie hugged her without warning, and as soon as the hug began, Gracie released her and stepped away, flattening her apron. "After that?"

Katerin sighed, glancing at her companions. "After that, I'll try and figure out this mess. You will not lose your home. I could never let that happen."

"I don't know what he's playing at," Spindle began. "But Mordai lost any kind of conscience he used to hold."

Katerin stiffened, her thoughts swirling in confusion towards Mordai. "It'll be alright... But for now I need your help. Do you know where Kindra is?"

Spindle shook his head. "Last I saw her was months ago, and she said she was heading north, for some kind of work."

"In the Elderdrake forest?"

Spindle nodded.

"She hasn't come back yet?" Brazen spoke up, suddenly concerned.

"No," Spindle said. "Though, with her that's not a surprise. She's never been one for complex plans."

Gracie chuckled, and Katerin snorted. "No, she hasn't. But if she's in the Elderdrake, I might find her."

"Do you have a place to stay? You know our door is always—"

"You have enough attention. We can find an inn without too much trouble," Katerin told her.

Katerin spent another hour, in the back room, reacquainting herself with the tavern keepers. She had not realized how dearly she had missed them, and seeing their faces was a relief. They were older, now. but they were the same.