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Chapter 29



Derrl set down his empty tankard on the table in front of him. Yerril had been free with coin as long as it was for a good cause, namely, ale. It was shortly past the fourth evening bell, and while that was not particularly late, Derrl needed to get some sleep soon if he intended to wake up with the sun bell to go work on the Pribe. And to top it off, he actually had to go in to work tomorrow. Not that work was horrible, but it just meant more tiring work after an early morning of hard labor. He looked across at Yerril who was near tears with joy. Apparently, when matters concerned his ship, he was very emotional. It would seem that he had been through much with the Pribe and was not prepared to let her slide silently into the surf to be swallowed by the waters that she rode.

"Yerril, I need to get some sleep if we're to wake up with the sun bell to fix up your beauty. I have to get going." The more than slightly drunk Yerril nodded, smiled, and went back to drinking. He would probably be here until the last bell of the day tolled. Derrl started to walk towards the door, and then paused, turned and caught Mensk's attention. He waved at the ageing barman.

"Don't worry Mensk, I'll be here tomorrow, mid-afternoon, just like you said. I wouldn't leave you to stack those things all by yourself. Wouldn't do to have such a frail, old man, such as yourself straining himself too hard. " He grinned as Mensk threw a slightly sodden, balled-up rag at his head and easily caught it. He tossed it into the bin behind the bar where they tossed rags in need of cleaning. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was there and was rewarded by a sodden sounding splat as he hit his mark. He and Mensk both grinned.

"See you tomorrow, Derrl." Mensk now had a clean rag and was back to wiping down his countertop. Derrl turned and walked to what was now his home, whistling tunelessly. Life was working his way now. Oddly enough, there wasn't much that anyone heard about the war anymore. You often forgot that even was a war because of the way life moved along. Most of the soldiers had returned home. It seemed that the war was dying out. This didn't mean that it was over yet with any amount of certainty. It was as if their ruler had a way of resuscitating dead wars, much to everyone's displeasure. Eventually though, someone was bound to depose the war necromancer one way or another.

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