I was sure the tables that ran the length of the public square had been neatly arranged the day before, but they were all askew now. The food had been cleared away, although greasy stains on the once-white tablecloths lingered like ghosts. Tankards for ale were everywhere: laying on their sides on the tabletops, left still half-full standing on the benches, even in kicked-together groupings on the cobblestoned ground.
Some people were sleeping under those tables, or on the benches, or hunched over the tables. But more were sleeping in tents that had been pitched at the north end of the square.
No one was moving. Not at this hour.
"What do we do now?" I asked Ingirun. "Do you know where the three we are looking for are sleeping? If they"re even still here."
"We"ll talk to them one at a
