“No one, not even Cade, had the temerity to ask about it. The lingering purple-green bruise on Mieka’s jaw wasn’t something anybody cared to bring up in conversation. Cade did sneak a few glances at Mieka’s hands. The reddened knuckles of a thrown punch sickened him. And he hoped with all his might that Jindra was still too young to remember any of it. The Elf was surly the first day out, keeping himself to himself with a mutter and a snarl. By noon of the following day, as their route to the co...ast took them through Gowerion, he livened up during a brief stop for lunching at Brishen Staindrop’s distillery. Brishen was gone to the Pennynines, hunting for rare flowers that bloomed but briefly and only once a year, and herbs said to be exceptionally potent when gathered at Midsummer. Mieka led them on a tour of the facilities and they all got tipsy just on the fumes from the huge oaken barrels of whiskey. There was a separate building, squat and thatched atop gray fieldstone walls, where Brishen concocted various types of thorn.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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