As the drow vomited what little food she had been given from her time in jail, Malcador looked up at the sky and deduced they had landed on the eastern side of the city. He recognized the minarets, and not for the first time did he feel the irony of being locked up in a city known for its independent values and it's freedom of trade and philosophy. He guessed there was a reason the biggest cities were full of rogues and pirates. He supposed he was one, now, in a certain way of thinking. 

Malcador was tired, hungry, swathed in rags and undeniably irritable. However, he did have to move or be locked up again. He was used to teleportation, at least enough not to vomit. However, it was still never easy, and his stomach still smarted from the knee to it. Not to mention the smoke and cuts from the whole ordeal. It was just the beginning, however, and he rallied himself, pulling himself up to his feet and running his hands through his dark brown hair. He loosed his hair out of the small loop behind his head, letting his mane fall freely as he approached Serphia. 

"Let me see that," He said more gently, getting down on one knee tentatively. He was still wary around her, but he was starting to believe she wasn't playing a game with him. She had the perfect chance to kill him right when they landed, even nauseated. "Remove your hand, I'll cauterize it. It'll have to do until we can get a real bandage on that." 

To his surprise, she reluctantly allowed him to aid her. When her slim hand moved, he summoned the weave again. It was fortunate he had recently perfected a few flame spells, however he needed to be careful. The smallest flame would do, and he did not wish to hurt her, surprisingly. He liked to think it was because of his sense of loyalty to a partner, and it partially was that, but it was also because seeing her in the light, he was even more attracted than he thought he might be. [i]Shut up, you idiot. Don't even think it[/i], he scolded himself. He banished the thoughts away as he began to incant the spell, and within moments his hands were as hot as cinders. They emanated a soft glow, simultaneously darkening like coals. 

Gingery he pressing his hand against her wound, and the blood turned to steam as he pressed into her skin for two heartbeats, before pulling his hand away as swiftly as he could. "Sorry," he remarked. He gave her a few seconds to recover, and glanced at Arloke before taking a deep breathe. They needed to move. "The bastards don't know what side of the city we left, or even if we're out of the city, so we have a head start. We need to go. If we hurry, we can make it to the next village in the middle of the night, find a barn and maybe some new clothes." 

Malcador was surprised at how correct he was. 

They moved through the brush, keeping away from the road as much as they could, even when out of sight of Thentia. As the minutes turned to hours, the wizard imagined once or twice he could hear pursuit. The neighing of horses and the words of men carried on the wind, but he never saw anyone. If the assassin heard, she gave no sign. Before Malcador knew it, night had fallen, and only as the moon rose and the sun dipped past the sea did they finally see lights in the distance. A village! 

They both knelt behind the brush at the edge of the treeline, watching the quaint little town he believed was called Thenton. There was a single watchtower, but from their position it looked unmanned. The village lacked walls, being so close to Thentia to get regular patrols and commerce. Even if they had money, they couldn't stay at an inn. It had to be at a farmhouse, and with the drow's keen vision, they spotted a suitable location. The two circled around town to a farm on the northern edge of the Thenton, slipping past the lights inside the occupied farmhouse. Malcador nearly tripped into a wire, but ducked and realized it was laundry. He and the drow nabbed a few items of clothing, and then trekked to the barn near the outskirts, past grazing cattle. With an effort, he opened the vast front door open and let his companion slip in with her spider, before he shut it. 

With a word of power, he summoned a wan light source to float into the center of the two story barn. Bales of hay and collections of tools were splayed out, and more of the same were likely up the ladder. 

"Well, it's not exactly Castle Never, but we'll have to get used to that for a bit." He said with barely contained frustration. He was tired and hungry, and the last water he had was when he had dunked his head in a small stream a few miles out of town.  

"I'll need a spellbook and some food, or I might as well be cursed with anti-magic like in the jail. I believe my light spell is the final in my repertoire until those needs are met. How are you? Holding up well?"