Chapter 15 · free to read
One dish. Four hundred witnesses. A road home on a pair of scales, and every person I would hate to lose sitting inside forty paces of me.
The whole plan had rested on nobody being able to prove a thing. It had never occurred to him that proof could be poured.
I gave up the only exit for a man who would have stood four hundred paces away and still been closest. Ask me tomorrow whether that was cooking or just appetite.
Five cooks came before me. Four of them had a departure date. The fifth had been carrying a ladle past me twice a day since the morning I arrived.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.