Page 17 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Prove you’re useful.” Nigel shrugged, tearing into his own leg of meat. “That’s what we did.”

“More wine!” someone shouted. “And how about a tale from the good bard?”

An echo of like requests resounded, and when Reardon looked around to see who they meant, he realized everyone’s attention was on Nigel.

He winked at Reardon and hopped up onto the tabletop, sliding platters and pitchers out of his way with his feet. “Are the masses demanding a tale?”

“A legend!” another voice called.

“Tell us about our fletcher, Nigel!”

“The first sacrifice!”

Since there was no hierarchy to who sat where, there was no way for Reardon to tell at first who the fletcher might be, but he saw a few heads turn toward a table behind him at a man with a blond beard and hard eyes, holding a very pretty young woman at his side who wore tiny round spectacles.

Though Reardon supposed neither of them was trulyyoung. The man was over two hundred if he’d been the first sacrifice.

“There’s nothing I like better than a proper redemption story!” Nigel cried. “And I can say that; I met him when he was still insufferable!”

The crowd laughed.

“Someone pass me that wine!”

A full goblet was handed up to Nigel, and he took a healthy swig before beginning, “There came the night!”

Everyone cheered, and then quieted after what must have been a familiar opening.

“There came the night!” He stomped his feet, keeping time with spoken verses.

“When a rich man’s son who dallied

owed more than he could rally

to the tavern in the square.

“And hence it was he was indebted

for all the women bedded,

and his father kicked him out to earn his fare.

“But oh alas! He had no skills but the thrills that he had wasted

and liquor he had tasted—”

“Still true!” someone shouted, and another round of laughter filled the air.

“—and liquor he had tasted to get by,” Nigel ended, balancing ginger steps on down the table with nimble leaps and flourishes to the crowd’s delight.

“The rich man’s son did wade and wallow

and become so very sallow

like a man cast adrift on a lonely, empty isle,

“But soon he turned his eyes to thieving,

blind from all his stealing,

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