“Oh?” said Fletcher, fighting to keep his tone conversational. He knew more about the bogspectre than he cared to admit. Keriya had saved its life, and it had given her that magic sword in return.
He tried to change the subject, asking the butcher for as many dried meat strips as four gold derlei would buy, and for directions to the grocer and granary.
“Hah! Edora’s too small for that. We get our produce shipped from Irongarde,” said the butcher. “Tell you what, I’ll sell you some of my personal stock for the rest of those coins. I’ve got loads in the shed out back. Wouldn’t want you to head to the city at this hour. Bogspectre’ll have your guts in a heartbeat. More attacks this past month than in the last five years combined!”
“Really?” said Fletcher, his stomach tightening with unease
