He waved to a unanimated hogshead hard by us, and I returned his gesture with a nod. He filled a glass and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the bench first continuing.

“As a betting man, I’d be ready to wager a fair speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach for more than the carouse and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my cool to the bow slung across my back.

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