Oddly enough, Kero could see the sense of it. “How did you figure this out?” she asked.

The man sighed. “Had a wench ’s peacekeeper fer years. Lost ‘er t’ th’ Wolflings. That’s ’cause all we c’n give is room‘n’board. Been hopin’ t’ replace ‘er, but ain’t seen nobody I’d trust, much less a bonded, that’d work fer that.”

Kero was still skeptical, but her time was running out, and she needed somewhere to go. This was the only decent offer she’d had. “And how do I know your master will go along with this?” she asked.

The man grinned. “ ‘Cause th’ master’s me. An’ ye’re hired, ’f ye’ll take just room‘n’board. Startin’ t‘night.”

It was better than she’d feared, but no place to rest or recover. Hellsbane had to winter in the corral since the stable was reserved for paying customers. She had to sleep on the floor with the rest of the help—with the exception of the serving girls, who spent the nights with customers. The floor was packed dirt, and cold, and half-healed wounds ached at night. She could understand his reasoning—he only had three sleeping rooms upstairs. But that didn’t make her position any easier.

The food was fresh and filling, and she could eat all she could hold, but it was poor stuff. Thin soup and coarse bread for the most part. She never felt quite right, and never regained her lost weight even though she was stuffing herself at every meal.

The innmaster, a cheerful little squirrel of a man, was fair and decent to her and backed her on every decision she made. He was all right, but the rest of the staff avoided her, especially after she brained a peddler who caught her out in the stable and tried to rape her.

She lost track of the days; she was exhausted by the time the inn closed, and never seemed to get enough rest. Each day blurred into the next, and she was never able to get up enough energy to go out and hunt down other jobs as she had intended to. Her little store of coins steadily dribbled away as she had to replace clothing that wore out, and repair armor and tack.

Even the sword seemed to have given up on her; she never felt so much as a prod from it anymore.

She leaned up against the bar, carefully positioning herself in the shadows, and surveyed the crowd. There was a larger group than usual here tonight, which had Rudi bouncing with joy, but didn’t exactly make her feel like singing. More people meant more chances of fighting, and more people meant that some of them would likely buy places on the floor. Paying customers got the places nearest the fire, leaving the help to shiver in their blankets. A cold night meant aches in the morning.