The southern blend was holding up reasonably well.
I'd pulled the bottle out mostly to give my hands something to do while I thought about the broth. The broth, for its part, still hadn't explained itself. It also didn't seem interested in starting.
The bottle wasn't the broth. That was the useful part. Different problem. And I'll take a different problem when the first one decides to sit there and be uncooperative.
The room had settled into itself. Hearth running at that low afternoon pace. Corridor lamp burning clean. Outside, somewhere, Arveth was probably still studying the exterior stonework like it might confess something if he stared hard enough. His four had been trailing him since morning. No signs they planned to stop.
I set the bottle back on the shelf and wiped down the counter.
The east corridor door opened.
I looked up.
