That evening when Benor returned to his room over the stables he checked carefully. His backpack had been disturbed. He looked around the rest of the room; somebody had disturbed the hoarded dirt under the bed. Not only that but there was a faint print of a shoe in the dust on the room’s only chair. Somebody had stood on it, perhaps to check on top of the battered cupboard that did service as a wardrobe.
His room had been searched but what for? Suddenly it came to him, were they looking for the crossbow? Given he didn’t actually possess one they’d have to look long and hard to find it. Then he had an idea. The privy needed emptying. It was getting disgusting, and the smell had turned his stomach that morning.
Next morning he made his way to the privy. He did so with the furtive air of…
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