He saw the tavern just in time. Alec was running and hiding for so long that he forgot how to feel rested. Another hour and he would have probably fallen down or, worse, his mind would have snapped and he would have taken the shields down.

So now he looked at the old and unpretentious tavern building as if it were paradise. A place to sit down, to eat, and people among whom he could hide. Perfect, absolutely perfect.

Alec stumbled inside and straightened with an effort of will, holding on to the wall. The inside was just as scruffy as the outside, but the tavern seemed popular — most of the tables were occupied. He was in no mood to socialize, though, and was glad to notice one free small table in the dark corner. It was probably unoccupied due to its location, but it suited Alec just fine. He did not like to be noticed, and this way he wouldn't even have to work at it.

Fifteen minutes later he felt warmer and took the jacket off, putting it on the bench nearby. Before him a mug of beer and a small bowl of garlic bread were standing. The waitress promised to bring him food as soon as possible. Alec leaned back on the wall beside his bench and closed his eyes, trying to relax.

The exhaustion of the previous days still drummed in his blood, in his brain, but there was nothing to be done about this. Alec knew that the respite was temporary. He'll have a dinner and then he'll have to go. He was in the middle of a war zone, even though most of the people surrounding him did not know it. Alec Burnside was good enough not to be found but not good enough to protect a territory by himself. Nobody was - and those who tried paid for their mistake too dearly.

Yes, this moment was short, but it stood to reason to use it to the full and not worry about things that could not be changed. Alec drank some beer and looked around. The people around were probably local, and most seemed content. Around him men and women talked about weather, football, jobs and children. Alec decided to take a risk and open his outer shields.

Immediately he breathed in, satisfied and even slightly revitalized. They felt good, those peaceful people intent on leading their ordinary lives. Not for the first time Alec wished he was one of them, that he was protected by the virtue of his ignorance. He shook his head, throwing a stubborn lock of hair off his face. The waitress was leaving the kitchen with his dinner, and he could have a rest.

Rest... Rest... For some reason the word continued buzzing in his head even when he started eating. Alec knew that usually he had a good control over his thoughts, so he caught this stray one and followed it across his mind.

The thought proved to be not his own - the strand of conversation repeating the word was too strengthened by the talkers' accompanying thoughts to go away unnoticed. Somebody here, unlike him, was going to have a rest. Alec decided to listen in.

It was a group of three men and two women who sat at a table closer to the bar drinking beer and talking with the ease of old friends. One of the men showed to the others an envelope and some object in a box. Apparently it was he who was going on vacation, and the things he showed were connected to it.

Curious, Alec probed deeper. The envelope was easy — it contained the plane tickets. But the box seemed to surprise the man himself. "You just have to show them this key, and bingo — you're in," he was saying.

"A key to paradise, Tim?" one of the women laughed. "I'm almost envious!"

"Well," Tim answered with a grin, "you already got the kind of paradise you wanted! Not my fault you're disappointed so soon."

"Hey, she's not disappointed!" the man next to the woman responded indignantly, and the whole company burst out laughing.

Alec never heard of the resorts that used keys as a means of identifying their clients. Soon he found that the man himself did not know much more than he said. Apparently, the tickets and a key were a present from some sort of a wealthy aunt.

He smiled, thanking the waitress who finally reached his table, and started eating, hot food warming him inside. It was even good — no wonder that the tavern was popular. Alec tried not to eat too quickly. He was amusing himself with thoughts of being in Tim's place. Having a rich aunt, even. He snorted and took another sip of beer.

What saved him in the end was the fact that his outer shields were down. When two men stepped inside the tavern, he frowned at them, reminded of the usual search pattern. If one of the men was a detector, he was already spotted, so it wouldn't hurt to check...

He checked. Instead of the usual cold blankness of a detector's mind, he found such a confused fury of craziness and deadly intent that it caused him to dive under the table first and recoil in psychic shock later. In a second the friendly buzz of the tavern was torn by gunfire.

"Not my fault," Alec whispered, cowering under the solid tabletop. "Not my fault, not my fault, they weren't after me..." Somehow this mantra didn't help much.

He sat there for several minutes, wrapped tightly into himself, shielding from cries of the wounded and dying, from frantic thoughts about both killer and his victims. Alec didn't know, didn't want to know what it was all about. It was enough to know that he did not bring death with him. The rest could wait.

Finally he got a grip on himself and searched again for the maelstrom of craziness in the killer's mind. Alec was almost thrown out again even though this time he was better prepared. So the madmen are truly invulnerable, he thought grimly, clinging to the deranged mind.

It was good that he managed that. Suddenly he noticed that it was almost quiet in the tavern. He heard weak moans, then a single shots and the sound of the steps coming closer. Then he saw feet stopping before his table.

You checked everything already, he thought. You did what you wanted to do. Now you're tired. You want to go home and have a rest. You have to go home now...

Apparently his desire to rest made his message very charged. The man paused, almost leaning on Alec's table, then sighed and went out.

Alec waited for the door to close behind him, then sighed too and started to crawl out. He thought he heard the sirens far away already. It wouldn't do to be caught in the official network. Too many eyes were watching for him — he needed the anonymity to stay safe.

Standing up, Alec surveyed the room in dismay. Bodies, blood, broken glass... Nobody alive, it seemed to him. Alec shivered, mourning his temporary safe haven. Even among ordinary people there was no safety. He hurried towards the door and suddenly almost stepped onto something.

Jumping aside, Alec looked down cautiously, fearing what he could find on the floor. Tim's dead face looked at him from the bench. The man probably slipped back from the table, dragging the tablecloth with him. The envelope and the box lay on the floor nearby. It was the box that got under Alec's foot.

On the impulse Alec crouched down, touching the dead man's face. "Sorry about your vacation," he whispered, then straightened, picking up the envelope and the box. "I'll remember you," he added softly, hurrying out of the tavern.

Alec did not remember his sudden acquisition until next day. In that time he put as much distance between himself and that tavern as he could, hoping that nobody noticed and remembered him there.

He spent the night in a cheap motel and next morning, after eating his breakfast, bought a newspaper. The attack on tavern was on the front page. The killer was shot dead during arrest, but he was identified as a local man who lost his job that day. An unstable mind turning to violence, the cops said. Three survivors in the tavern, all heavily wounded, their lives still in danger.

Four survivors, Alec corrected the newspaper mentally. To think that yesterday he envied them — at least Alec had a warning... And then he remembered the man who had been going to have a vacation. Alec touched the heavy box in his pocket, then got up decisively and returned to the motel. He had the room until noon, and to open the box in the cafe seemed too careless.

Once in the room, Alec sat down on the bed and took out the envelope and the box. The envelope did, indeed, contain plane tickets. Both with no name specified, one for a plane leaving this evening from the nearby airport and flying to some place called Paradise Falls. Alec chuckled sadly, remebering yesterday's overheard conversation. Paradise, indeed...

The other plane ticket was for a return trip three weeks later. Also in the envelope was a laminated card which proclaimed in fancy fonts to be a "Key Holder's Ferry Card". Alec could not find Tim's, or anybody else's, name anywhere. And that was when the idea took hold of his mind.

Tim wasn't going to take his vacation. Why couldn't Alec use it instead? If anyone needed a vacation, it was him. To spend three weeks relaxing and being pampered suddenly seemed an immensely attractive prospect. And if he had to run... well, he could run from anywhere. God knew he had a vast practice in running and hiding.

Having already decided on going, Alec opened the box and for the first time saw the key clearly. It was large and ornate, and yet evidently crafted with precision, suggesting that it really was to be used as a key. Turning it in his hands, Alec noticed the inscription running on one side. He lifted the key to read the flowing letters better and found that the key simply announced its name to the world. A Scrying Key? Alec was intrigued. He guessed that there were keys for every client, all with different names, but why Scrying? What gave the key its name? Oh well, if he was going there, he'd find out for sure.

Alec spent the rest of the day very pleasantly. It was a very unexpected sensation to know how you were going to spend next day. He checked the contents of his bag. Not much there, but each item served him well and was just the way he liked it to be. Anyway, he intended to spend most of the vacation sleeping, so there was no sense in wasting money on clothes.

Reaching this wise decision, Alec went shopping anyway, though it was mostly window-shopping. He allowed himself the pleasure of buying a couple of T-shirts and spent almost an hour lingering over the toiletries. Alec hoped his room would have a big bath. Taking a bath was a luxury he missed the most — cheap lodgings he used usually only had shower cabins.

So in the evening he arrived at the airport feeling more like a casual traveller than like a tired fugitive. He showed his ticket and was led into a small but richly furnished plane. His fellow passengers, four men and one woman, also seemed to have only light luggage, so he probably did not stand out too much.

Alec ate the food he was offered, which was much better than the usual airplane fare, then lay back in his chair and started lightly scanning the passengers and crew. He wanted to relax, but that did not include going in blind.

He did not learn much; of course, he did not check too deep. This line mostly served the needs of the place he was apparently going to, the Palace of the Keys. Three of the male passengers seemed to have keys too, and the fourth man and the woman were going to do some sort of contract work. All were very pleased to deal with this Palace, not that it told Alec much. The most important information was the one he did not find. None of the people on board of the plane had any psychic abilities, nor did their minds show any traces of psychic intrusion. Satisfied, Alec put on the headphones and used the music to drown out even his own thoughts.

Once in the airport, Alec looked around to see where he had to go and soon noticed the sign for the Palace Ferry. The three key owners went there without hesitation and Alec followed them.

Showing his ferry ticket to a smartly dressed guard, Alec went aboard the ferry which was as elegant as the plane, and soon the four passengers were ushered into a grand building. It was getting dark already so Alec could not see the details, but somehow he was sure it was quite impressive too.

Once inside, they were met by four young men, all very good-looking. The one that came up to him smiled politely and said, "May I see your Key, sir?"

"Of course," Alec answered, smothering a yawn, and took the key box out of his pocket. He showed the key to the young man and said "How did it get its name?"

"Ah, sir," the young man smiled again, "the Scrying Key is a popular one, a good choice. As for its name... I'm sure its story will be told to you at an appropriate occasion. However you seem to be quite tired now, so if you'll follow me..."

Alec followed. He was not sure he remembered the details of the corridors he passed, which were all designed according to some theme. "Lovely place," he said vaguely.

"Thank you, sir," the young man answered. "Here's your room. Please use your Key to open the door."

Alec did so, wondering whether he'd meet the man again. It would be nice to have some fun... sometime later, after he slept a lot. At last the door opened, and Alec went in. "There's a bell inside, sir," the young man said as a farewell, "ring it if you need something."

"I will," Alec said, and the door closed.

The room he was in was big and airy, and there was some sort of winter garden further away, but the only item that caught Alec's attention now was the big bed.

He put his bag down and looked around for the bathroom. Finding one, he peeked in and wasn't disappointed. The bath was very big indeed. But Alec understood that to take a bath now would mean falling asleep and drowning. He avoided death too many times to be so careless, so he undressed quickly, throwing dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom, and went back. Alec climbed between the cool satiny sheets, sighing from pleasure, and in a second he was asleep.