The Knife's Edge

Chapter Twenty-Six

THE GREAT HALL

Gray reached the doors of the Great Hall. The sound and flow of commotion guided him towards the chambers like a fish in a stream.

The doors burst open, and a torrent of cheer flowed over him. A group of drunken guards stumbled out. He sidestepped them as he took in the spectacle of the hall. Huge, ornate pillars ran down the center and flanked long rows of oak tables. Each table was filled with guards and commoners, eating and drinking while servants hustled.

Gray scanned for Mura as he moved through the tables. The hall was raucous. The clink of plate and fork, and the chiming of frothy mugs set his nerves on edge, and he jumped at a round of sharp laughter. Nearby, a group of men and women danced to the tune of a flute and drum. The noise and bright lights jarred him. He looked around feeling eyes on him.

Abruptly, he heard a scream, and he twisted towards it. A bearded man with a greasy smile grabbed a passing waitress. Several men including two nearby guards watched the flailing woman, jostling one another in amusement. Gray moved to help the woman, and stumbled over a chair, causing a string of curses from those nearby—but before he was halfway to her, the brown-haired waitress laughed and batted her aggressor away while fluttering her lashes. The men he had bumped into watched him as if he were mad. Pulling up his cloak, he wove his way to the corner of the hall looking for a seat to calm his frayed nerves. What’s going on? He thought, his heart thumping. What is this feeling?

In the corner, beneath a flickering torch, he found an empty table where the din of the hall was reduced to a low hum. He took a deep breath. I’m jumping at every little thing. Something tingled beneath his shirt, and as he reached for the pendant a voice spoke.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No,” he said retracting his hand and looking up. There stood Mura with a wry smile. Gray leapt from the bench and embraced the hermit, lifting him from the ground. The man grumbled good-naturedly, but Gray paid no heed. Mura felt real and solid.

“I see you’ve not lost your strength,” Mura said, rubbing his ribs with a laugh.

“Where’ve you been?” He exclaimed. The man wore a tan shirt and brown pants, and in place of his usually tattered shirt, he wore a snug black tunic. A few scratches marred his cheek and forehead, but he looked nearly unscathed.

“I’ve been here. When you caused your little raucous over there I spotted you. Is everything all right, lad? You look as if something is nipping at your heels.”

“I’m all right now,” he said and motioned the man to sit. So caught up in the moment he failed to notice that the hermit had placed a steaming dish upon the table. It was filled with cubes of lamb, buttery rice, and two thick slabs of bread. The smell of spices rose from the plate hitting Gray’s nose, and his stomach twisted in knots. “I’ve never smelled anything so good.”

Mura chuckled. “Fool boy, I figured you hadn’t eaten since I last saw you.”

“You’re not too far off.”

“Well dig in!” He exclaimed pushing the plate towards him. “I’ve had my fill, several times over,” he said with a wink, and when he saw the look on Gray’s face, he added, “I’m not going anywhere. Eat and then we’ll talk,” he insisted, pushing the plate closer.

Gray was only too happy to oblige, and as he finished the last savory bite, he looked up. “Is there more?”

Mura laughed, and then smoothly caught the attention of a waitress, signaling for another plate. “Well, I’m glad you haven’t lost your appetite.”

When Gray had his fill, he pushed the plate away. “What happened, Mura?”

“Back in the woods, or after?”