The next morning dawns bright and clear. The air is cool and crisp, with a faint salty tang from the nearby sea. It's a welcome change from the dust and grime of the road, and for a moment, I can almost forget the weight of our quest.
We eat a quick breakfast of porridge and fresh fruit, and then Roland and Lucas set off for the library to collect the map. The rest of us are left to our own devices, a state of affairs that fills me with a familiar, low-grade resignation.
Mostly because Tomas and Valentine are entirely likely to bicker the longer they have nothing to do.
Celeste, predictably, retreats to the small patch of sun by the window, a heavy book in her lap. Valentine tunes his lute, his fingers moving with an easy, practiced grace. Tomas, after a lengthy debate with himself about the merits of staying in the inn versus "doing something," finally stomps out, muttering something about finding a decent drink.
Which leaves me with May.
