"I wouldn't want to bathe in that fetid water," the strange figure suggested. "All of Gate's runoff drips down into he slums."

Garald began to understand the man's speech more clearly as moments passed. It was all coming back like a flood. But what was coming back? In the back of his mind, the noble's son was getting a glimpse at a shrouded past beyond history - beyond reckoning...a grand tapestry that he only knew was there but had never fully glimpsed.

"You one of Gork's horde?" the figure asked cryptically. "If so, you'll want to be hid before the top of the hour. Before noon, it is Thedr's rule, and he doesn't take kindly to soul dealers before then." Then, he added again, "You stink."