When Tor opened the door to Ed’s Stumble Inn, he was greeted by raucous laughter and chanting. He followed a short hallway that opened to a taproom thick with patrons. All were facing the bar, upon which Borgli stood, his hand gripping the shaft of a long, curved horn. Quell leaned over the railing of the loft above him, pouring a tankard of ale down the large end of the horn. The inn’s patrons cheered as the dwarf downed the ale coming out the bottom. With the tankard empty, Quell grabbed another full mug and began pouring it into the horn. The crowd chanted and cheered as Borgli continued to drink.

Tor shot Koji an annoyed glance before pushing his way through the crowd. He knew some of the men might get upset, but when they spied Koji in his wake, they were unlikely to pick a fight. Upon reaching the stairs, Tor raced up and pushed past the patrons occupying the loft. He stopped a stride from where Quell stood with her back to him. He counted nine tankards on the table, all of them empty. Beside the mugs was a small glass filled with dark liquid. He picked up the glass and gave it a sniff. It smelled of anise. Swoon. He gripped Quell by her shoulder and turned her toward him. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Borgli is trying to win a bet.”

“A bet?’

“To down ten tankards of ale without stopping for a breath.”

Tor closed his eyes for a beat before speaking. “You two were supposed to procure provisions and wait here without causing trouble.”

“We did.”

“This is trouble.” He motioned to the cup of swoon. “What is this?”

“That is for me. I am not overly fond of ale.”

“Well, Borgli is about to get a surprise.” He poured the glass of hard alcohol down the horn, leaned over the railing, and waited.

The dwarf chugged and swallowed gulp after gulp, draining the horn until the swoon reached him. His eyes suddenly bulged, and he tore his mouth from the horn. He coughed, spluttered, and staggered a step, appearing as if he might fall off the bar. His fist thumped against his chest as the crowd quieted, all eyes on Borgli while he blinked with bleary, red eyes. When the dwarf’s mouth opened, Tor feared he might vomit on the crowd below him. Instead, he let out a mighty belch, its timbre low enough to shake the room.

The crowd burst out in laughter. Numerous men exchanged coins they had won or lost on the bet. Borgli knelt on the bar and accepted a stack of coins from the barkeep.

Quell tapped Tor’s shoulder, drawing his attention away from the scene below. “I was looking forward to that drink, but with the coin we just won, I can buy myself another.”

“How much did you win?”

“We had ten silver pieces left after we bought the provisions you requested. Two were spent on these drinks and the food we consumed before this all started. The rest was placed on the bet, so we turned eight silver marks to sixteen.”

Tor grunted. “That is exactly how many you started with.”

“So, you aren’t mad?”

“When I asked you to avoid trouble, I also meant to avoid attention. This little stunt is exactly the opposite of what I wanted. That said, a little extra coin won’t hurt, especially now that we need to room here tonight.”

“What took you so long anyway?”

He grimaced, his ire again rising.

Koji answered for him. “Finding horses proved to be more challenging than expected.”

A voice arose from the din of the crowd, singing a song unfamiliar to Tor. The voice was low, gravelly, and while the singer likely attempted to carry a tune, he failed miserably. Borgli.

Tor sighed. “Let’s go get him before he finds more trouble.”

He eased between the people in the loft and descended to the main floor with Koji and Quell in his wake.

The crowd had disbursed and spread throughout the inn. In the center of the room, Borgli stood on a table with a mug in each hand. He swayed as he sang, spilling ale with each movement but appearing oblivious to the puddles forming on the table. He stumbled, stepped on a wet spot, and slipped as his foot shot out from beneath him. With a roar of surprise, the dwarf flopped on his back and dumped both full ales onto the patrons occupying the table behind him. He rolled sideways, fell off the table, and disappeared.

Eight rough-looking men, all with wet splotches on their faces and tunics, stood, their expressions like thunderclouds.

“By the gods,” Tor swore. “Now, he did it.” Over his shoulder, he said, “Come on, Koji. We’ve a mess to clean up.”

Borgli staggered to his feet and looked up as one of the upset men stepped before him. He narrowed his eyes and stared up at the man. “You seem to have spilt on yerself, mister.”

The man growled. “You snide little piece of crap.”

His fist struck Borgli square in the face. The dwarf stumbled a step, shook his head, and grinned. “Let’s play.”

Releasing a roar, the dwarf ducked low, charged the man, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Although the man stood a foot and a half taller than Borgli and likely outweighed him by a hundred pounds, Borgli picked him off his feet and slammed the man down on a table. The table tipped over onto a startled couple. The woman screamed, the man roared, and a melee broke out.