[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Roa's threats of vengeance meant little to Snaveling, whose life had already taken him far beyond the care and report of any kin. The sudden appearance of the strident youth alarmed him, but to his relief the young Man missed him in the dark and the smoke. The first floor of the Inn was now crowded with people battling the blaze, which was almost entirely under control. Fortunately, they were still too busy to notice his stealthy flight up the stairs to the second floor.

Snaveling was patient this time, moving through room after room, disdaining to take any of the small trinkets that came under his hand, waiting instead for the prize that he was sure was his due after enduring the dangers and hardships that he had this day. In the fifth room he entered, he found what he was looking for. Beneath the mattress of the bed, his creeping hand found a heavy purse. Before he had even opened it, his practiced fingers had already told him the precise amount and quality of the gold and silver contained therein. Still, when he did draw the mouth of the purse open and gaze within, his head spun -- here were riches enough to make all his dreams come true: and for the first time in many years, Snaveling felt something that could almost pass for joy.

Shoving his gold beneath his tunic, Snaveling fled the room. The only way out of the Inn from the top floor was through the windows -- which was sure to attract attention -- or back down the stairs. He hoped that in the commotion below he could slip out of the Inn and make for the woods unmarked and unnoticed. But Snaveling's luck, for today at least, had finally run out. No sooner had he put his foot upon the fire-weakened stairs then they collapsed beneath his weight. For a moment he was suspended in the air, but then amid a shower of splinters and dying sparks he was dashed to the wooden floor below, and as his conscious mind fled, it gave to his dreams a single parting thought -- save the gold!