The hotel and eatery Liz chose was nothing fancy, but after prison food or the lack of it the bread tasted like heaven and the stew like something worth living for.
They sat by a window overlooking the marketplace, watching people go about their lives like the world wasn't full of betrayal and monsters.
"You look better already," Liz said, pushing a plate of roasted meat toward him. "Color's coming back."
"Prison's not great for the complexion." Marcus took a bite, savoring the taste. Real food. Real freedom. Small things you didn't appreciate until they were gone.
They talked about nothing important for a while. The weather. The guild. How business had been slow lately because of increased beast activity near the eastern roads.
Then Marcus set down his fork. "I saw someone in prison. An old man."
Liz looked up, curious.
"He was from a village near Ashveil," Marcus continued. "He told me things. Strange things about what happened there."
