Chapter 64
The party had died down sometime near dawn, yet the echoes of drunken sailors singing sea shanties still lingered around us. The air smelled of spilled ale, and the remnants of last night's revelry were scattered all across the floor, from broken mugs and discarded dice to a few unconscious pirates slumped against the walls.
We sat at the same table where we had first seen Trish locked in a game of dice with a man she had appeared to be torturing. The memory of that made my skin crawl as I tried not to focus on the blood congealed between the cracks in the table.
Torrent was snoring under a bench with a parrot perched on his head, and I saw Cappy slumped inside a huge barrel, clutching a bottle to his chest like a teddy bear.
