A shout from Jasper turned into a swing from Columbia, the swing turned into a crash of pottery and suddenly the Tavern erupted.
Mugs flu, stood spilled across the stone floor, benches toppled in the crash of bodies. Fiddler snatched up his instrument as the crowd surged.
Edward pulled Fairbairn against the wall. “Stay close!” he cried. Edward tried to keep both clear than both clear, but two villagers stumbled into their table and sent it crashing. Ale drenched Fairbairn’s skirt as she shoved one man— too hard and he went sprawling into another, sparking fresh blows.
“Bloody brilliant,” Fairbairn muttered, ducking as a mug went sailing past her ear.