"Madam?" The confused manager stared at Sabriel and Touchstone. The pair deserved to be stared at. Sabriel's clothing was torn halfway across her body, her sword was poking out of its sheath and covered in blood, and there was the ever-present bandolier of bells that proclaimed her as either Abhorsen or a necromancer. Touchstone was, if it was possible, dirtier than Sabriel. His sleeves were falling off his shirt, his arms were covered in a multitude of gashes, and his entire body was slathered in mud.

"I am the Abhorsen, Sabriel." Sabriel explained. "This is my traveling companion, Touchstone." The manager nodded.

"I am Roane, the manager of this inn. We were expecting you, Abhorsen." He held out his hand, but not to shake Sabriel's. Sabriel sluggishly lifted a few coins to Roane's waiting palm. Touchstone, equally tired, shambled after her as Roane led them to the rooms they had paid for. Roane bowed to Sabriel and opened her door, then scurried away, shooting a sidelong glance at Touchstone.

"Meet me for dinner," Sabriel ordered Touchstone. Touchstone nodded. She was still Abhorsen, he could not disobey her.

Sabriel's room was lavishly decorated with rich curtains and velvet bedding. A soft bed sat at one end of the large room while a nightstand and a gold-leaf mirror stood at the other end.

Touchstone hit his head on the doorway as he entered his cramped room. The walls were lamely whitewashed and the bed was nothing more than a cot with a few extra blankets and a moldy quilt on top.

Deciding that a bath would be the best thing right then, Sabriel examined the huge copper tub and the buckets of fresh hot water. It must have taken a long time to heat the many buckets. Sabriel poured a couple buckets into the the tub and slipped in. The scent of lavender and sandalwood rose from the water.

After lots of rearranging and many ill-willed oaths, Touchstone managed to cram himself into the tiny bath. His legs flopped over the side and the water was cold. He shivered a little and wondered if they were treating Sabriel this badly. An image flashed into his mind of Sabriel standing in a little room just like his, freezing and shivering as he was, and it made him angry.

"Lucky us." Sabriel whispered to herself. "Touchstone must be living like the prince he really is." She slipped out of the tub, wrapped herself in one of the soft blankets they had provided for her, and hopped into the large bed. Her eyes closed and she was asleep.

Touchstone finally pulled himself out of the tub. He pulled on his mud-streaked pants, the management having conveniently forgotten to leave out some blankets, and plopped down on the rigid cot.

Stretching in a satisfied way, Sabriel pulled open the wardrobe to find a small array of clothes. She smiled and pulled out a plain dress. It was only dinner with Touchstone, and she hoped he would not dress up.

Touchstone heard his back nearly snap as he stood. It was dinner time, if they would let him eat. He did not have any clothes except for the ones he had been wearing, and there was no sign that the management left him any, so he pulled on his muddy shirt and left his horrible room.

Sabriel was already waiting for Touchstone when he arrived and a plate was set out for him. He grimaced as he sat, the cot being severely uncomfortable and the bath having frozen up his joints.

"How was your room?" Sabriel asked him cheerfully.

"Not exactly proper treatment for a prince." Touchstone frowned. "But how was yours?"

"Mine was certainly proper treatment for an Abhorsen."