They both fetched their belongings from the wagon, which had been wheeled into a carriage house attached to the Town Hall, and Abi followed Jicks up the stairs to the upper floor above the Great Hall itself, where the guest chambers were. These were not anything like “plush” accommodations; the rooms were simple and plain, furnished only with two beds and a tiny table between them, and a chamber pot under each bed. The rooms opened up into each other in a long string just under the rooftree, and the ceiling sloped sharply down on either side—but at least there were gable windows to let in light. They’d probably be freezing cold in the winter.

But it wasn’t winter, the rooms were clean, and they weren’t in the caravan. And this stop would allow them to get the linens from the caravan laundered. And baths! The town had not one, but three bathhouses, and Abi intended to make use of one of them.

Jicks slung her bag down onto the right-hand bed. She looked at Abi with an expression that told Abi she was feeling very awkward about being together in a room they shared, after trying to kiss her. Abi herself wasn’t at all sure what to say. So probably it’s best to leave it unsaid. “I must admit it’ll be nice to sleep in a bed that doesn’t move every time someone gets up to visit the bushes in the middle of the night,” she said instead, opening the windows to let the breeze come through. Jicks managed a smile. Abi took that as a good sign.

Their meals were to come from the inn across the square from the Town Hall, but the parsimonious mayor had decided that the meals were to be sent over from the inn and subject to his orders, not eaten off the menu. So when they all gathered at a very small table set up in the enormous Great Hall, they were greeted with what was probably the cheapest fare the inn had to offer. Pease porridge flavored with bacon, bread and butter, raisins, and thin ale served from a pail.

Bret and Bart dug in without a word. Abi and Jicks exchanged a look and a slight headshake, and Master Vance looked as if he was going to explode.

“No point in getting upset, Master,” Herald Stev cautioned him. “This man is going to pinch every penny he has until it screams for mercy.”

“Well, he’s just guaranteed that we are only going to find the root of his problem, tell him how to fix it, and move on,” Vance huffed. “Really! I’ve no doubt he’s sitting down to roast pork and baked apples this very moment!”

“This is better than my cooking, Master Vance,” Jicks pointed out diplomatically, then followed the example of Bret and Bart and dug in herself.