Chapter Thirty Seven

The ride to old Porv's inn wasn't as long as Elena had thought. They had reached a poor section of the town where every corner was filled with shops, and Calhoun took them to the last one at the corner. Although it was late and most people had closed–the inn in that area was very much alive, though– an old man was in the shop, sleeping. He had kicked his head back and had laid his leg across the front table where what looked like dry scrolls had been placed. The man was snoring heavily, and Elena could bet that he was also drooling. He stretched his body out so that the chair he sat on was not standing on four but two of its feet. Elena felt a pang of fear for him. He could easily fall if care wasn't taken.

"Old man!" Calhoun's called out from atop his horse, and what Elena predicted came to pass. He jumped up in shock, causing his chair to kick back further and landing him on the ground. Elena winced, hoping that the man didn't retain any injury. She looked towards Calhoun