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Morgaine was exhausted. That wasn’t unusual for this time of year; pretty much everyone expected to wake up the morning after All Sinners’ Day hungover, sore, tired, and possibly in an unfamiliar location without some of the clothes they had been wearing the night before. He’d probably spent more time drinking with customers tha...

Agnes stands in her living room, and watches the fire as it burns low in the hearth. The fire smolders along the edges of its embers, flickering dark orange to red and back again. It will go out soon, likely in the next twenty minutes. She’ll be back in fifteen, with luck. She runs a finger along the handle of her woven basket, then sets it in front of the fire. “I offer bread, to fill your stomach. Wine, to quenc...