Noble, 49
“Are we going to get there in time?” Geoffrey asked Cliff, sitting at his table in the inn. They’d been forced to stop early two days in a row by snowstorms, and now they were late getting to the Dolovin capital. The wedding was tomorrow.
Cliff nodded. “The weather is hard to control but not impossible. If the snow hasn’t let up by an hour before sunrise, Master Gaston and Antoine and I will do a spell.”
Geoffrey nodded. The inn was warm, but the snow outside made it feel cold. He was glad he didn’t live in the north. “How hard will that be for you?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Cliff smiled. “We’ll get you there no matter what.”