“When was the last time someone operated a business out of this establishment?” Min stood in the doorway, looking around at the broken bookcases and cracked glass display cases left by the previous tenant of Diavan’s new shop in Fremont.
Dust cloaked everything, including my nostrils after I made the mistake of taking three steps in and kicking a drop cloth that had been covering up a bunch of missing floorboards. Rapid-fire sneezes shot from my nostrils, and I imagined how Xervan would have reacted if he’d been there, wondering if he needed to apply healing magic to my nasal passages.
But I hadn’t seen Xervan in almost two weeks, since I’d left him on a ledge in another world and hopped through his portal. How had the turning in of the dark-elf criminals gone? What had Zola said to his
