Tehol collected his cup and cautiously sniffed. Then he frowned at his manservant. Who shrugged. ‘We don’t have no herbs, master. I had to improvise.’ ‘With what? Sheep hide?’ Bugg’s brows rose. ‘Very close indeed. I had some leftover wool.’ ‘The yellow or the grey?’ ‘The grey.’ ‘Well, that’s all right, then.’ He sipped. ‘Smooth.’
