‘There you go, my lovely.’ A perky, fair-haired tavern-girl set down my roast pork, a heel of bread, a steaming jug of gravy, and a tankard of ale. ‘Enjoy.’ I watched her leave and started to feel twenty-two again rather than ninety-two. Good food, ale and a floor beneath me that had the manners to stay where it was put … the world had started looking up. All I needed was a plausible excuse for staying in Trond until the nastiness up north had been dealt with
