“A good one?” I asked. “A mediocre one. Turned out I was better suited to killing than I ever was at performing. Anyway, I met Fisher one night out on the road. He was on his way to help some friends. I was lying in a ditch when he found me.” I buried a smirk. “Drunk?” “No. Dead, actually. Or very nearly, anyway.” He winked, though he suddenly looked a little washed out in the muted tavern lighting. “I'd been attacked by two vampires. Strays. They weren't part of the horde. But they were hungry. They took one look at me—a scrawny kid with a lute strapped to his back. Alone—and decided I'd make
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