Room after room they search for anything which may indicate Morcyth or the Star of Morcyth, but fail to find any. "I don't think we'll find anything here," Jiron says as they reach the furthest room from where they entered the temple.

"I'm sure there are others close by we can check before it gets light," states James.

"Most likely," replies Jiron.

As they make their way back toward the stairs, they hear from up ahead of them the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. James immediately extinguishes his light as they duck into a side room. Holding still, they listen as the footsteps reach the bottom and begin to come their way.

It sounds as if there are two people coming, the light from their torch beginning to illuminate the hallway outside the room where they wait. The ones approaching are talking amongst themselves and Jiron glances to James when they realize it's the speech of the Empire they're using.

In Jiron's hand, James sees the light from the approaching torch reflecting off the blade of a knife. He pulls a slug from his belt and then gives Jiron a nod as they ready themselves.

The footsteps continue to come closer but then suddenly turn into the room just prior to theirs. The torchlight greatly diminishes as the bearer pa.s.ses into the room. Jiron motions for James to wait while he goes and sees what they're doing in the other room.

He moves to the edge of the doorway and looks inside to find them going through the shattered remains of some priest's living quarters. They're tossing things out of drawers as well as the chest by the foot of the bed in their search for anything that may have been overlooked by previous looters.

Jiron comes back to James and whispers, "They're busy looting. We might be able to slip by without them noticing."

Nodding, James motions for him to lead the way.

Coming into the hallway, Jiron pauses a moment to check within the room where the Empire's soldiers are looting and then motions for James to follow him.

Moving quickly, they pa.s.s by the room and hurry down the hallway without being seen. Upon reaching the stairs, they glance back and see that the guards are still busy looting. They ascend the stairs and move on to the next building.

Coming back from their third night of seeking signs of Morcyth, they enter the home they've been using as a base of operations since the first night. Except for the slave work crew clearing the streets, this part of town has been relatively quiet. The majority of the soldiers and civilians from the Empire are congregated in what used to be the Government Quarter of the city.

Sitting down against the wall, Jiron looks to James and says, "I don't think we are going to find anything."

"We can't give up," he insists. Taking out a portion of his remaining rations, he takes a bite before continuing. "Somewhere in this town, there has to be something which will tell us where the priests went."

"Why?" Jiron asks. He's asked this same question daily since the first night turned up nothing. "Just because the last high priest was born here doesn't mean he came back here."

James just gives him a look of frustration, "There just does."

"We're running out of food," he tells him. "And I just hope no one discovers the bodies of those guards we left in that cellar, the hunt will be on for sure." Yesterday, while they were searching through an old building, three soldiers had stumbled upon them and were disposed of quickly. They stashed their bodies in the building's cellar and then stacked old boxes and crates around them to better hide them.

The morning light continues growing as the sun peeks over the horizon. Shortly the sound of the slave gang can be heard approaching as they come to continue working to clear the streets.

Today, the work gang comes to just in front of the building where James and Jiron are hiding. Jiron glances out the window and sees them beginning to clear the rubble away from where the wall from the building next to them has fallen out into the street. It had been one of the ones gutted when the fire had raged in this area.

They decide to move upstairs to avoid accidental detection should anyone wander into their building. Directly above them they find a room with a window which overlooks the area where the slaves are clearing away the debris.

Taking turns at watch, they settle in to await the coming of darkness when they can once more resume their search. As Jiron had taken the first watch yesterday, James takes it today.

There are times when it's hard to keep yourself awake when you have nothing to do, especially when you are unable to do anything for fear of being discovered. James sits near the window taking advantage of the slight breeze coming through. His mind wanders to a life which now seems so long ago.

He thinks of his grandfather and grandmother, both had always tried to do their best, but he was at that age when nothing anyone told him meant anything. Homesickness strikes him and he wonders if he'll ever go home.

Dave. Just what is Dave doing? He must be worried sick about him, as he supposes everyone who knew him is right now. If he ever does make it back, will role playing games ever mean the same to him again? After having lived it? He wishes that some day he'll get the chance to find out.

The sound of the men outside working continues to give him some added distraction, albeit not very much. There's only so much rock clearing you can watch at a time. Every once in awhile he can catch a snippet of what they're saying, for the slaves are the former citizens of Saragon and thus, he can understand them.

From down below, he can hear one of the men sneeze. Such an occurrence has been common, what with all the dust being raised by the removal of the rubble.

"Gesundheit," he hears another of the slaves reply.

He continues to reminisce about home when his mind turns to Meliana. Oh, Meliana. The way he felt when she had held his arm while he walked her home is still strong. How she swayed while they danced, her laugh when he said something whimsical. She's been in his mind a lot lately, perhaps when he gets back to Cardri and all this Morcyth business is concluded, maybe he'll find a way to return to Corillian and find her. See if there's actually something between them.

Suddenly, his mind snaps back to the here and now. Gesundheit? Gesundheit? Did he hear that correctly? A chill runs through him at the realization that that is not a word native to here. Did he hear that correctly? A chill runs through him at the realization that that is not a word native to here. That's a word from home! That's a word from home! Since coming to this world he's not once heard that particular expression. Since coming to this world he's not once heard that particular expression.

Going to the window, he peers down and sees the same slave gang that he's seen the last few days since they arrived. A dozen men of varying ages, from early teens to even one old grandfatherly looking individual, none of which immediately stand out as the one who spoke.

He continues to watch them and after a half hour, the scene repeats itself. Someone sneezes and the grandfatherly individual says "Gesundheit." Excited, he keeps a close eye on the old guy. The other slaves near him help him out. He does less than everyone else due to his age, but the slaver must allow it for no recriminations are forthcoming from him.

Every once in awhile the old man sits down and takes a break while the others continue working. From what Miko had told him of his experiences with slavers, he was surprised the old guy is being allowed to rest. Guess different slavers work differently. Guess different slavers work differently.

Waking up Jiron, he tells him what's been happening and the significance of that old man saying the word he said.

"You think he's from your world?" he asks incredulously.

"Yes," he says with conviction. "I can't think of any other reason he would say that." When Jiron looks at him skeptically, he adds, "If I can be here, others can too."

"True," agrees Jiron. "But there's still no reason why he has to be from your world. He could've picked that word up anywhere. Or it could even be a different word that just sounds similar."

Shaking his head, James says, "No. He said it at just the right moment under just the right circ.u.mstances. Not once, but twice."

Jiron gives him a silent look for a moment before saying, "Okay, then. What do you plan to do?"

"Help him," he replies.

"How?" he asks. "If we take him with us, he'll just slow us down and then we'll all be either dead or on a slave gang." Going to the window, he glances down to the old man below who's still sitting on large piece of broken wall close to their building, wiping the sweat off his face with a rag. "Look! He can't even keep up with clearing away small rocks and wood. There's no way!"

"I know," concedes James. "But I have to at least talk to him. I've got to know for sure."

Jiron gives him another long look and then glances back down to the street. The old guy has once more joined his fellow slaves in removing the rubble. "Where he sat is near one of the windows on the bottom floor," he says. "Maybe he'll sit there again and you can whisper to him out the window."

"Good idea!" agrees James excitedly.

"Just be very quiet," he warns. "You don't want to attract the notice of the slavers."

"I know," James a.s.sures him.

Moving back downstairs, they position themselves by the window near where the old man had rested. They occasionally glance outside to see if the old man will sit back down near them. A half hour later, he pulls out his rag and once more goes to sit on the large piece of wall not three feet from the window where James waits.

Once the old man has sat down, James whispers out to him, "Don't make a sound. I'm in the building behind you." He sees the old man's shoulders stiffen a fraction as his words reach him. "Do you understand me?" he asks.

The old man nods his head as he wipes his face.

The slavers who're overseeing this group are over by the main party of slaves and are pretty much ignoring the old guy. James asks, "Are you from around here?"

He rubs his face with his rag and then turns his head toward the window where James is and replies just loud enough to be heard, "Born here."

That was definitely not the answer he was expecting. Glancing at Jiron, he sees him shrug. Turning back to the window, he whispers, "I heard you use the word 'gesundheit' when that other man sneezed."

Nodding, the old man asks, "Do you know what it means?" There seemed to be a slight tremor in his voice when he asked the question.

"It means, health, or good health," he replies, wondering why he would ask such a question.

The old man freezes for a second then again wipes his face with the rag. He sits there quietly for several minutes until James begins to think he might've forgotten about him.

"Why did you ask?" questions James.

The old man shakes his head as one of the slavers looks over in their direction. Getting up, the old man returns to help the other slaves in removing the rubble.

"What was that about?" asks Jiron when James moves away from the window.

"I don't know," he replies. "But when I told him what it meant, he reacted to it." Sitting down against the wall under the window, he adds, "Something's going on here."

Jiron munches on some of his rations as he watches James mull over what happened. "I have to find out what."

He waits by the window the rest of the morning and afternoon. Though the old man takes several rest breaks in that time, he doesn't do it near their window. James catches him casting looks over toward the window from time to time as he works. Finally, when the sun is getting low in the sky, he comes and sits back down by the window and asks, "You here tomorrow?"

James whispers back, "Yes."

The old man nods as the slavers holler for the slaves to gather together for the return to the slave compound. As the old man gets up off the piece of wall, he points to it and then points to a spot closer to the wall before going to join the others.

James watches as the old man shuffles along with the others back down the street. When they've moved out of sight, he turns to Jiron and says, "We need to move that section of wall closer to the window."

"Why?" he asks.

"The old guy indicated we should," he replies. "It may enable us to communicate better tomorrow. Less chance of being overheard."

"No. I mean why bother talking to him?" Jiron corrects.

"When I told him what it meant, he seemed surprised that I knew," he clarifies. "He also asked if I was to be here tomorrow. Why would he say that?"

"To tell the soldiers and have us arrested," suggests Jiron.

Shaking his head, James says, "He could've done that any time today. No, he wants to tell me something."

"You may be reading more into this than there is," Jiron insists. "He could just be a lonely old man who wants to talk with someone who's either not a slave or a slaver."

"Maybe," James skeptically admits. "Only one way to find out though. If he is just a lonely old guy, I'll say no more about it."

"Okay," he agrees.

They wait until it gets dark and then make their way out onto the street to where the section of wall the old man had sat on lies. Struggling with all their strength, they're able to move it over to where it almost touches the wall beneath the window. "That should be close enough," Jiron says after the section of wall is in position. They use their feet to eradicate the marks on the ground they made when moving the slab of wall.

Nodding, James adds, "We should be able to hear each other well without having to speak too loudly."

"Are you planning on searching other buildings tonight?" he asks him.

Shaking his head, he says, "No, I'm too exhausted."

"Then go ahead and get some sleep while I keep watch," he volunteers.

"Thanks." They return into the building where James lies down and falls right to sleep. Jiron doesn't wake him all night, and even manages to get a few hours of sleep as well. True, he was taking an awful chance having no one on watch, but they've been there several days now and no one has yet to come by except for the slave gang.

The next morning, the sound of the slave gang approaching awakens James. He moves to the window where Jiron is already looking out at their approach. "Do you see the old guy?" he asks.

"Yeah," he replies. "He's in there with the others."

They watch as the slaves and slavers approach and then begin working in the same area, clearing the rubble. It's an hour or so after their arrival when the old guy makes his way over to the now much closer section of fallen wall. Sitting down with his back to the window, he produces the same dirty, stained rag to wipe the sweat off his face and neck.

"You there?" James hears him whisper.

"Yeah," he whispers back.

"How did you know what that word meant?" he asked.

"It's used a lot where I come from?" replies James. "Why?"

"You're the first one ever to know," he explains. One of the slavers glances over in his direction, but then after a moment resumes the conversation he's having with another.

"Does that mean something to you?" James asks.

"Yes," replies the old man. "As far as I know, my family has been the only ones to have used it. Have been for hundreds of years."

"Oh?" prompts James.

He glances over to the slavers to make sure they're not watching before continuing. "Seems one of my great-great- I don't know how many grandfathers had been told that someone would come who would know the meaning of it. That we needed to be aware and ready."

"Ready for what?" he asks.

Just then a slaver looks in the old guy's direction and he gets up to join the others in picking up rubble.

James almost screams in impatience. Knowing he's got a while to wait, he sits anxiously next to Jiron under the window. What the man said keeps running through his mind.

The time seems to pa.s.s excruciatingly slow before the slave gang takes their noon meal. When the sound of them clearing away the rubble ceases, James peers out to see the slaves lining up to get their food and water. After receiving his share, the old guy comes back over to take his place on the section of wall by the window.

"You there?" he whispers just after he sits down.