When they got to the gate, there was no one there except the gate guard and the town crier, who was polishing his bell. “Oliver said it was only three miles or so,” Ven said, looking down the road. “We could walk.” “Let’s wait for a little while,” Char grumbled. “My feet hurt.” “Were you born in Kingston, Char?” Ven asked while they waited. Char shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve been passed around a lot. Only been here once that I remember. Never been to this inn before, but I hear it’s the place kids without parents go.” A few minutes later the crier began ringing his bell, announcing the morning’s news. The sleepy streets seemed to waken. Shopkeepers opened their doors, fish and flower sellers appeared with carts, and the children of the city hurried from door to door, laughing. “A merchant or farmer should show up soon, and then maybe we can catch a ride in his wagon,”
