17.

The woman is cleaning beer tankards and doesn't look up as I approach.

"Ma'am?"

She suddenly meets my gaze with a terrifying glare. "You're a bounty hunter," she says flatly. "I'm not speaking with you."

A loud chorus of laughter erupts from the other customers. "You kidding?" one of them snorts to her. "This little twerp, a bounty hunter? Nah, he's with Kantacle."

My hand involuntarily clenches. I may not be the world's most muscular person, but I don't relish being called a twerp.

The owner eyes me appraisingly. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Where do I start?"