EIGHT
The village inn tempted Chase more than he liked to admit. He'd spent so many nights sleeping under hedges, as summer gave way to autumn and the infernal rain that never ceased, that the very thought of a night in a real bed, perhaps even a few hours seated before a fire, made his knees weak.
He counted his coins. He had enough for a hot meal or two and a bed, as long as it wasn't their best room. Abraham would have laughed at him, counting coppers like this. Then again, Abraham would have turned them to gold at a touch.
But Abraham was lost to him, and this was his life now. So Chase surrendered what remained of his wealth to the innkeeper and asked if the man knew of anyone in need of a knight.
The innkeeper scratched his head. "Don't know anyone who can afford to keep a kni
