higher, turning it this way and that in astonishment. ‘He can pay for his own damn brandy!’ The warrior at the bar. ‘A cheap trick.’ The thickset woman, slamming down her tankard of ale. ‘He’s no kin of Alaric!’ Anger starting to colour the complaints. ‘I doubt he’s spoke a true word since he came in.’ ‘Liar!’ ‘Thief!’ ‘Wife-beater!’ That last one was me.
