Although the inn was almost full, Klane was able to secure a small room on the wing of the building opposite the stables. He took Lyr to a rented stall and ensured that the horse had been properly rubbed down, fed and watered before attending to his own comfort. By the time he had washed and changed and made his way through to the bar, darkness had drawn in. There was a mixed crowd in the common room. Some were Ironhope locals but there were more than a few Rider nobles and major and minor ceremonial officials concerned with the organisation of the Great Burning and all the associated festival events. When Klane enquired he was told that the man in charge was the one appointed as Master of the Flame, a stout and hearty Rider by the name of Verindu who was holding court perched on a stool by the bar. "He makes enough noise", one of the locals observed wryly to Klane, for at that moment Verindu had burst into a spluttering fit of loud laugher at some jest made by one of his crony's, "but he's not the real boss in this game. They are the ones you have to pay attention to", and he nodded darkly in the direction of the second fireplace. Klane said nothing. He was finishing a supper which consisted of ham and fried potatoes but he took a long swallow of ruby rich Ironhope ale and indicated his interest with a raised eyebrow which was sufficient encouragement for the speaker to continue. "The one on the right is Thorawn. He's the supervisor sent from..." His voice dropped to a staged whisper ".. them". Klane knew that this was as close as the superstitious Riders would go towards naming the seldom seen agents of the Conclave. Only an event as important as a Great Burning ever brought Conclave and Rider together. "He's the one that appointed Verindu and he can revoke that if he doesn't like the way things are run. The one on the left with the beer in his hand is Muttu. I don't like him. He's some lordling with the Southern Pralannians and they've been giving themselves a lot of airs and graces recently. Muttu's a nasty piece of work if you ask me; surly and rude and throws his weight around. Thorawn seems to get on with him, though, and that scares the others. Muttu's his right hand man." A few minutes later when Klane pushed away his plate he was approached by a serving maid who told him that the gentleman by the fire would like to speak to him. Soon Klane was face to face with Thorawn and Muttu.