"Were you planning on starting that tonight."

"Uhhhhhhhhh . . ?"

“I wanna go to an inn.”

"Well by all means."

Kamin is present again and that means he can be scooped and that means they don’t have to walk. Such a convenient boyfriend he has. Scoop. Hop onto a nearby roof, hop to another, etc etc etc.

Ex-corpse really does not feel like physically moving parts of her body in order to keep up with that, but luckily she doesn't have to; she floats along at a reasonable distance.  Flying is the best.

The birds do have to work in order to fly, but they might agree with her on the last part anyway.

And so they eventually reach an inn - a fairly snazzy one, even, advertising running water and personal baths and limited psionic wards and other small alchemical conveniences - and it transpires that they have three rooms available.

“Zeke and I can take one, Morgan can take the other, and, um - I’m sorry, I don’t think you mentioned your name?”

"Correct."

This person is probably still objectively much friendlier towards strangers than his boyfriend or his headmate. He turns to the innkeeper, an amused looking elf with a dapper mustache.

”Um! We’ll just take the three rooms and sort out the details ourselves. How much will that cost?”

”Eighteen silver,” says the innkeeper. 

He plucks a gold coin out of his purse and hands it over; the innkeeper makes an appreciative surprised noise, carefully hands him three keys and a little chocolate delicacy, and bids them adieu. He distributes the keys appropriately.

"You're allowed to ask for my name.  I just hadn't said it before."  She hands Kamin six silver.

He resists the urge to hand it back and instead pockets it. Fighting over checks is often very tempting and also often very unpleasant for everyone involved.

”I - assumed from that response that you’d rather we didn’t know? Which would be fine.”

She nods.  That was also not asking.

He... doesn’t immediately say anything! That seems easy.

“... what’s your name?”

"Jace."

“Cool.”

He grabs Kamin by the hand and fails to actually drag him upstairs only by dint of his enthusiastic cooperation.

The birds go up to their fancy room that they didn't have to pay for.

Well.  She'll go sequester herself as well.

And while Kamin and Zeke... do things... Jade detaches himself from their body’s senses and retreats into his mindscape. 

It was the very first thing he’d found, when he’d been just sixteen and just starting to feel an inkling of power. A metaphor, in his brain; a little seedling of structure. He’d pruned and polished it into a ballroom carved from marble, and then a sprawling catacomb of crisp stone, and everything he was had been carefully carved into the delicate patterns on the walls. And in one of the rooms he had discovered someone else, some lost prince from a kingdom that had never existed, bound and shackled by the stone, and in some rooms he had discovered the patterns that belonged to other people, watchtowers carved by his curious subconscious.

And in one of the rooms he has a metaphorical bed, and there he can dream.

... and then he’s on a tiny little island on an incredibly vast, frozen lake, being peered at by an unusually beautiful, unusually silver-skinned goblin. 

“Hello,” she says.

- the shadow ballerina??? - 

He was not really planning on talking to one of the hundred most powerful people on the continent, when he went to bed, but he can roll with it.

“Hello.”

“You wander; it’s a bad habit. Do you know who I am?”

“Madame Bakir, the shadow ballerina and silver goblin; keeper of nineteen secrets; born in the cloudlands. Psion and spy.”

“Then you don’t. Do you know why we’re talking?”