Hunter let Chekwe take several more enormous swallows of rum, then pulled the amphora away from him.
“What the hell?” Chekwe growled.
“Time to think. We’ve got problems, and we need clear heads.”
“I want to think about that rum.”
“Exactly. Why is it here? Who’s running rum to goblins?”
“It’s a Quamdamn waste of rum. Makes me sad. I don’t want to think about it. Look at all the loot the boy is picking up, though. Think about that. I can use my share to buy a tavern. You can give your share to Dahlia. Bet she’ll kiss your lips when she sees that rucksack full of loot.”
“We’re not thinking about that,” Hunter said. He sat and thought and watched Paul move among the goblin corpses. The boy was still trying to stifle retches as he stripped the dead of their jewels and trinkets. “Here, Pau
