Except the liquid wasn’t foul at all. It was, well, there was no other way to describe it—it was delicious. It was heady but not overpowering, rich but smooth, warming his throat on the way down but never burning. He took another drink, this one longer and deeper, closing his eye as he pulled it in. He sighed in contentment, then cleaned his lips with his tongue so he wouldn’t lose any of the liquid. When he opened his eye, his host was staring at him expectantly, eyebrows wriggling. “Well, how be it? Better’n piss-water, no?”

“How did you…” He trailed off, realizing how stupid his unfinished question was. How did you know I’d been thinking that? Because of course the man knew what customers would expect free ale to taste like. He’d probably heard it a hundred times before. No, a thousand. But then why wasn’t anyone here? Shouldn’t the locals be beating down the door? “It’s wonderful,” he said. “The best ale I’ve ever tasted.”

“Now I’m curtain yer exaggeratin’,” the dwarf said, though he was unable to hide his beaming smile. “Try the fish, caught it meself this mornin’. Put up a terrific fight, that one did.”

Ludo doubted the fish could outdo the ale, but he was wrong, for after he’d parted the skin and peeled the flaky white meat away from the bones and forked the first bite into his mouth, he swore no other food would taste as good again. It was buttery but light, perfectly seasoned and expertly cooked. “Delicious,” he mumbled around his second mouthful.

The dwarf clapped, sliding his own undrunk glass of ale back into his pocket without ever having taken a sip. “Let me know if ye need anythin’ else, though I’m curtain ye won’t.”

Despite the quality of the food and drink, Ludo simply couldn’t let it slide any longer. “Why do you keep saying ‘curtain’ instead of ‘certain’? Are you trying to get me to move that curtain aside to quell my curiosity?”

“Curtain? What curtain? I’m curtain I don’t know what you mean?”

Ludo was about to lose it as he whirled around and said, “I mean that curt—” He stopped mid-word. Staring. Just staring. Then he blinked, hoping it would help. It didn’t. For there was no curtain on the wall, nor a rod to hold it. But there was a door now, positioned midway up the wall, where no one could reach it without using a ladder. Not that there was a ladder, or steps, or anything but the blank, flat face of the wall. The door was brown and small, so small that Ludo didn’t know if he’d be able to squeeze through. It was a perfectly dwarf-sized door.

“Are ye well, Mister Vica?” the dwarf asked. “I could fetch a healer if ye need a potion or tincture to settle yer nerves?”

Ludo dragged his gaze away from the door. “Where does that door lead?” The dwarf opened his mouth to respond, but Ludo barreled ahead. “And don’t you dare say ‘What door?’”