By the time they reached the inn, darkness had settled over the road. The building stood beside a bend where the trees thinned and the land dipped toward a distant river. Squat and broad. Built from gray stone darkened by years of rain. A crooked sign hung above the entrance. It creaked whenever the wind caught it.
The Drowned Crow.
Kaelen stared at the painted bird. Someone had given it one white eye and a beak that looked more like a knife than anything belonging to a crow.
"Cheerful name," he remarked.
Aliar followed his gaze. "Perhaps the crow drowned after drinking the wine I bought yesterday."
"That wine could kill a crow," Caelus said.
"Then the innkeeper should be grateful. I have saved him the trouble of poisoning his guests."
Warm light spilled through the windows. Every time the door opened, the smell of roasted meat and thick stew drifted into the night. Fresh bread too. Beneath it lingered the sharp scent of ale and woodsmoke. Kaelen's stomach growled.
