Chapter 87: Lore Master

Rhychard sat in a camp chair on his back porch, a glass of Jameson on a table beside him and a cigar, which he didn’t get to enjoy at Embers, twirling between his fingers. His other hand toyed with Renny’s engagement ring, which hung around his neck as he stared off into the woods. He would have much preferred sitting out on his Thinking Rock, watching the water of Manatee Creek drift by, but a sick elf probably shouldn’t be left alone. Luckily, Famallumi didn’t throw up in the moving truck. September was still too hot, and that smell would have lingered for days, making work unbearable.