Chapter 12

The woman dashed off into the crowd, then returned shortly with two mugs of a pale ale.

“Cheers,” Frye said, raising his glass.

Markle’s stomach roiled, but he returned the gesture. He took a small sip, not wanting to add too much alcohol to his already tender stomach.

“After we’re done eating, I’ll approach the innkeeper,” Frye continued. “With this many people, we’re sure to make a lot of money.”

“We’ll split it in half, right?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we?”

“I sort of thought you’d want a bigger cut for yourself.”

Frye grinned, and it made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Mackerel, I’m not above giving people what they deserve. If anything, I’m surprised you’re not insisting you get more.”

“I’ll be happy to just have enough to get me to Grincewood.”

The barmaid returned with their meals and Frye wasted no time digging in.

Markle, though, focused on the slices of bread on the edge of the plate. It might be best to eat something bland to help settle his stomach.