Thu, 1 February 2018
Torches had never done Allgood much favor, but that they lit up a question or two in the good populace was useful. Two old branches lit the stench of thoroughfare just before the bar-house, the tips never extinguished thanks to some flammable green-black sludge the fiddle fingers had cooked up for otherwise pursuit. They stunk, and while most folk came to the bar house either by regular pre-dinner appointment or curiosity, they came all the same.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Seven: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |