The inn at Wayrest was little more than a sagging timber hall squatting beside the road, its roof patched with mismatched shingles and its signboard creaking in the wind. But to the Blackwood Company, it was luxury enough: a roof, ale that didn’t taste of river water, and a hearth large enough to banish the chill of early autumn.
Kaelen sat near the back wall, nursing his drink in silence. He preferred the shadows, where the firelight didn’t quite reach, where the noise of laughter softened to a dull roar. The company had claimed three tables near the center, their voices rising in bawdy songs and boasts. Garen was already red-faced, slapping the table to the rhythm of his own tune, while Mira and Veyar exchanged coins over a game of bones with the deserter from the Ash Empire.
Deyric, t
