Jourd'Althea, 28th Decima
She didn't, in truth. Not splendidly. She imbibed enough ale not only to feel even more miserable than she thought possible the whole night through, but also to awake with a splitting headache the next morn. There was nothing splendid about it.
Regardless, she woke early and got out of bed posthaste. It was still dark outside. That was a blessing for her light-sensitive eyes.
She tiptoed down the stairs to the dining room of the inn, but found such caution unnecessary. The innkeeper was already up, making breakfast for early risers. She refused his offer of a hot meal politely, saying she preferred her meal a bit later in the morning.
"Some demitasse, then?" he asked.
Surprised, Anala nodded eagerly. Demitasse was grown in lands far to the south, such a rare
