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    We reached Appertown, with its post office, dry goods store, and inn. The latter, which boasted a faded sign that had once been red and seemed to have a chicken's head painted on it, was almost deserted, but the three Teckla occupying a table in the back quickly looked away from Teldra while trying to glance at me covertly. If I had been wearing my Jhereg colors, instead of the nondescript leather I now affected, they wouldn't have dared to look at me, either.
    The hostess, a Teckla who was too thin to give me much confidence in the food, seemed a bit wary as she asked what we wanted.
    "Klava, if you have any," I said.
    "Klava?" she repeated as if she'd never heard the word before.
    "If not," said Teldra, "we should be glad of coffee."
    "We have a klava press somewhere," she said. "But—"
    "You must have eggshells," I said. "Have you any vanilla bean?"
    "Oh, I'm certain we have that. But I don't know how to make the filter."
    "I do," I said. "If you'll allow me into your kitchen—"
    "Vlad," said Teldra softly. "I think coffee would do, wouldn't it? As long as there is honey and cream."
    "Very well," I said. The hostess sent Teldra a look full of gratitude and scuttled off for coffee. She brought back two mugs, along with a pitcher of thick cream and a jar of honey. Teldra gave her a smile that our hostess probably valued more than the money we'd leave with her later. Along with the coffee, she brought us each a sample of the house bread - a small, round loaf with a hole in the middle, cut horizontally and lightly toasted. I tried it.
    "Not bad," I said. "This would be good with smoked pinkfish and buttercheese."
    "And a bit of onion," agreed Teldra.
    As I mixed the proper proportions of my coffee, Teldra said, "How do you brew klava?"
    "You don't know?"
    She smiled. "I can serve it with the best, but I've never needed to learn how to brew it."
    "You press coffee through a filter made of eggshells and wood chips with vanilla bean, then reheat it so it almost boils, then you pass it through a cloth to remove any oils brought out by the reheating."
    "Wood chips?"
    "Hickory works well, also fegra, cherrywood, and crocra. It's the wood, or combination of woods, that makes each version unique. Well, and how much vanilla you use. Also, some people add cinnamon, but I don't; cinnamon is just as good if you add it later. Everyone has his own recipe. Valabar's does it best, but they do everything best. I miss Valabar's."
    "Is that all you miss, Lord Taltos?"
    The expression on her face made it seem like light banter rather than an intrusive question, so I said, "Maybe one or two other things. And, even though we are enclosed by four walls, I still consider this the wilderness." She smiled. "Very well, Vlad."
    I took another sip of coffee and missed Valabar's. This inn was a single-story building, stretching back quite a ways from the road, and built of molded brick with what had once been very nice woodwork around the windows; but now the wood was old, scratched up, and showing signs of dry rot. There was no actual bar, such as Adrilankha's inns always had, but just various tables with glasses and bottles sitting on them. We sat near the front door; two doors led back, no doubt to various sleeping rooms, and another went back to the kitchen. I always notice the entrances and exits when I'm in a new place, although there haven't been many times in my life when noticing actually did me any good. It's just one of those things you do, like warming up your muscles before and after fencing practice. I once asked my grandfather, who taught me fencing, how, were I ever jumped by brigands, I could convince them to wait while I warmed up. He just rolled his eyes and gave me a flank strike, which I parried, causing the tip of his weapon to whip past my guard and leave a nasty welt on my forearm. After that 1 made my questions more serious.
    "Would you like to share your thoughts, Vlad?"
    "Have you ever had a practice