“Mmmm, brandy,” the half-orc said, guzzling a bit from a barrel. He used his other sword to split the barrel and spill its contents to the floor. He did the same for three more, sampling each one before destroying it.

“Gonna get trashed before all this stuff is gone,” he laughed, booze dripping down his chin.

“Do not forget the private stash,” Haern whispered. He pointed down below the bar, where a few small bottles were hidden. Harruq marched over as the barkeep’s eyes bulged in horror. He took one, popped the cork, and drank.

“Woooweee, that is good,” he said. He tossed another to Haern, who flicked it open with his thumb and drank a bit. He poured the rest onto the barkeep’s head.

“I don’t know how much they paid you,” Haern whispered, “but I doubt it was even half the price of that bottle. Or that blue one there. Toss me that, Harruq. Thank you.” He smashed the bottle and smeared the barkeep’s face in it. “Go ahead and lick it up. Someone might as well drink. My patience is ended, barkeep. Where are they hiding? Who paid you?”

“Thren and his boys,” the barkeep muttered. “They gave good gold to lock you in. They said they would return tomorrow morning. I swear, I don’t know where they are now!”

Haern let him up. Harruq downed half of another expensive bottle, then dropped it to the soaked floor. The barkeep glared.

“Nothing personal,” the half-orc said. The two exited into the night.

8

W here to next?” Harruq asked. The two stood outside the bar, still trying to clean off spider fluids from their clothes and armor. “We only have a few more hours until morning.”