(Pol's POV)

Pol berated himself all the way back to the World's End that evening. Fair enough to be startled when a vicious dog lunged at him, but there had been no need to panic when he felt that hand on his shoulder. He should have simply turned round and made some light rejoinder.

Instead... he winced in retrospect at the way he had lashed out. Pathetic. And then, to end up flat on his back with his pack digging into his shoulders with the stranger on top of him. How humiliating. And the man had been heavy, heavy and powerful. Pol had felt the hard muscles of his thighs, pressing down on him through his trousers.

Pol swallowed.

And that face! Like something out of a nightmare. At least he'd had the sense to pretend to faint. That trick had allowed him to escape. But, instead of staying to confront the other man and find out who he was, he'd fled, like a child afraid of the bogeyman. Not his finest hour.

Presumably, the man was some kind of watchman for the Hall, probably with some kind of injury to his face. Or maybe a scary mask to frighten off random intruders. Not a bogeyman or a monster.

Pol sighed, rolled his shoulders to try and shake off the mood, and plastered a benign expression on his face as he entered the inn.

"Over here, Flynt," Pedlar was beckoning him across to his table on the other side of the room. Pol gave him a genuine smile. That had been a stroke of luck, finding a friendly man happy to allow a trundle bed in his room. And as far as he could tell, Pedlar was exactly what he seemed. A travelling merchant, who enjoyed meeting people and making only enough money to get by.

"What can I get you, sir?" asked the server, as soon as Pol seated himself. "We have fowl and noodles or roast mutton with potatoes."

"The mutton, please."

"Good choice," approved the server automatically, before disappearing behind the bar.

"Did you find the Hall?" asked Pedlar, mopping up his gravy with a hunk of bread.

"Yes, thanks. Big place, isn't it?"

"Reminds me too much of the haunted mansion in The Tales of Spooky Hollow," Pedlar answered with a deprecating laugh. "You wouldn't catch me going up there after dark. I'm quite happy for the servants to come down and see me here, if I'm honest."

He lowered his voice, "Don't look now, but the third member of that other party has just come in. Bit of a strange one, all right."

Pol peered sideways under his lashes, while continuing to eat. A tall man, dressed in grey trousers and jacket, and carrying a cane entered the inn. His hair was dark, almost black and long enough to tie behind him in a knot. His face was tanned, and one of the most handsome Pol had seen for a long while. And, unless he was mistaken, he'd taken one look at Pol and was heading straight for him.

Moments later, Pol had his third shock for the night. The right side of the newcomer's face was perfect, beautiful even, but the left... The stuff of nightmares.

A kaleidoscope of mixed reactions spun round inside his head, horror, pity, and then... recognition. This was the man from the forest. And, Pedlar had said, one of the three travellers, seeking an interview with Maybury. He too, was after the gold.

Abruptly, Pol regained his composure. He threw off his first emotional reaction and looked again at the man beyond the mask. Strong and powerful had been his assessment when lying underneath him on the ground. Now, he added intelligent, and he thought, suspicious.

A worthy opponent. Pol smiled in anticipation.

He put down his knife and fork, and held out his hand.

"Pol Flynt. How can I help you?"

They shook hands. "Jareth Coppersmith."

Coppersmith smiled, with an element of satisfaction evident on the human side of his face, and Pol knew that somehow, the other man was on to him.

Straight away, Coppersmith lay down the gauntlet.

"Perhaps we can talk later?"

And Pol accepted.

"Of course. I look forward to it."

The challenge was on.

Pol watched as Coppersmith made his way across the room to the other travellers and ordered dinner. He wondered how much he actually needed that cane. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from his rival for a moment to study his companions.

The other male looked like a typical senior bureaucrat, self-confident and a touch pompous. The sole female was harder to quantify. At first, he had thought she was bureaucrat's wife, but their behaviour soon changed his mind. The man paid her no special attention, leaving the table as soon as he'd finished eating without waiting for her, and she in turn, seemed more interested in talking to Coppersmith.

Then she turned her head and stared right at him.

Pol gave her a cheeky wink in return, then dropped his gaze and finished his dinner.

He pushed his empty plate to one side. Pedlar had waited politely for him to finish and they went upstairs together, Pol already plotting how he was going to discover more about his three rivals.

He really hoped he wouldn't have to dispose of all three of them.