Chapter 17

“Frye,” Markle called out softly. “It’s morning.”

The dancer groaned, but sat up, scratching at his bald head. “Already?”

“Yes. You know, you don’t have to accompany me to Grincewood. You’re more than welcome to go back to sleep.”

Frye’s face split with an eager grin. “No. I want to convince you to keep playing your lute. I saw how good you felt last night. You need to keep it up.”

Markle shook his head. It was too early to argue such nonsense. Instead of answering, he climbed out of bed. “What about our clothes?”

Frye yawned loudly, then said, “Check outside the door. I’m sure Liklia finished by now.”

After moving the chair back to the table where it belonged, Markle pulled open the door. Sure enough, two baskets of clothing sat outside. Markle dragged them both into the room. He lifted one of his shirts, taking a deep breath into the fabric. “It smells like smoke.”

“They dry clothes in front of fires. They didn’t have time to hang them outside.”