“One more,” shouted someone in the crowd. It had dwindled as the evening had progressed, but there were still quite a few who wanted to be entertained.
“I can’t,” Frye admitted. He had plans to perform his special dances later and he needed some energy to use that magic. “Besides, I think my brother fell asleep.”
Markle was laying his head atop a table, his lute beside his face. The kid had been amazing, skillful and a natural performer. He’d given the crowd everything they’d wanted. So much talent. And so wasted.
Frye flagged down Liklia and asked about baths. She ran off to fill up their tubs.
“Come on, brother,” Frye said, patting Markle’s hair gently. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
Markle muttered something incoherent.