Sauntering over to the table, Haplo ran his finger through an inch of dust and dirt.
“I can hardly wait,” he remarked, “to taste the food.” Lights flared above them, hitherto unseen candelabrum flamed to brilliant life. The cloth draped over the chairs was whisked away by unseen hands. The dust varnished. The empty table was suddenly laden with food-roast meat, steaming vegetables, fragrant breads. Goblets filled with wine and water appeared. Music played softly from some unseen source.
Limbeck, gaping, tumbled backward and nearly fell into a roaring fire blazing on the hearth. Alfred nearly leapt out of his skin. Hugh could not repress a start, and backed away from the feast, eyeing it suspiciously. Haplo, smiling quietly, took a bua[20] and bit into it. Its crunch could be heard through the silence. He wiped juice from his chin. A pretty good illusion, he thought. Everyone will be fooled until about an hour from now when they’ll begin to wonder why they’re still hungry.
“Please, sit down,” said Sinistrad, waving one hand. With the other, he led in Iridal. Bane walked at his father’s side. “We do not stand on ceremony here. My dear.” Leading his wife to the end of the table, he seated her in a chair with a bow. “To reward Sir Hugh for his exertions in caring for you today, wife, I will place him at your right hand.”
Iridal flushed and kept her gaze on her plate. Hugh sat where he was told and did not appear displeased.
“The rest of you find chairs where you will, except for Limbeck. My dear sir, please forgive me.” Switching to the Geg’s language, the wizard made a graceful bow. “I have been inconsiderate, forgetting that you do not speak the human tongue. My son has been telling me of your gallant struggle to free your people from oppression. Pray, take a seat here near me and tell me of it yourself. Do not worry about the other guests, my wife will entertain them.” Sinistrad took his seat at the head of the table. Pleased, embarrassed, and flustered, Limbeck plunked his stout body into a chair at Sinistrad’s right. Bane sat across from him, on his father’s left. Alfred hastened to secure a seat beside the prince. Haplo chose to seat himself at the opposite end of the long table, near Iridal and Hugh. The dog plopped down on the floor beside Bane.
Taciturn and reticent as ever, Haplo could appear to be absorbed in his meal and could listen equally well to everyone’s conversation.
“I hope you will forgive my indisposition this afternoon,” said Iridal. Though she spoke to Hugh, her eyes kept sliding, as if compelled to do so, to her husband, seated opposite her at the table’s far end. “I am subject to such spells. They come over me at times.”
Sinistrad, watching her, nodded slightly. Iridal turned to Hugh and looked at him directly for the first time since he had taken his place beside her. She made an attempt at a smile. “I hope you will ignore anything I said to you. The illness . . . makes me talk about silly things.”
“What you said wasn’t silly,” Hugh returned. “You meant every word. And you weren’t sick. You were scared as hell.”
There had been color in her cheeks when she entered. It drained as Hugh watched her. Glancing at her husband, Iridal swallowed and reached out her hand for her wine goblet.
“You must forget what I said! As you value your life, do not mention it again!”
“My life is, right now, of very little value.” Hugh’s hand caught hold of hers beneath the table and held it fast. “Except as it can be used to serve you, Iridal.”
“Try some of the bread,” said Haplo, passing it to Hugh. “It’s delicious. Sinistrad recommends it.”
The mysteriarch was, indeed, watching them closely. Reluctantly releasing Iridal’s hand, Hugh took a piece of bread and set it down, untasted, on his plate. Iridal toyed with her food and pretended to eat.
“Then for my sake don’t refer to my words, especially if you will not act on them.”
“I couldn’t leave, knowing I left you behind in danger.”
“You fool!” Iridal straightened, warmth sweeping her face. “What can you do, a human who lacks the gift, against such as we? I am ten times more powerful than you, ten times better capable of defending myself if need be! Remember that!”
“Forgive me, then.” Hugh’s dark face flushed. “It seemed you were in trouble—”
“My troubles are my own and none of your concern, sir.”
“I will not bother you anymore, madam, you may be certain of that!” Iridal did not answer, but stared at the food on her plate. Hugh ate stolidly and said nothing.
Things now silent at his end of the table, Haplo turned his attention to the opposite.
The dog, lying by Bane’s chair, kept its ears pricked, gazing up at everyone eagerly, as if hoping for a choice bit to fall its direction.
“But, Limbeck, you saw very little of the Mid Realm,” Sinistrad was saying.
“I saw enough.” Limbeck blinked at him owlishly through His thick spectacles. The Geg had changed visibly during the past few weeks. The sights he had witnessed, the thoughts he had been thinking, had, like hammer and chisel, chipped away at his dreamy idealism. He had seen the life his people had been denied all these centuries, seen the life they were providing, all the while not sharing. The hammer’s first blows hurt him. Later would come the rage.
“I saw enough,” Limbeck repeated. Overwhelmed by the magic, the beauty, and his own emotions, he could think of nothing else to say.
“Indeed, you must have,” answered the wizard. “I am truly grieved for your people; all of us in the High Realm share your sorrow and your very proper anger. I feel we must share in the blame. Not that we ever exploited you. We have no need, as you see around you, to exploit anyone. But still, I feel that we are somewhat at fault.” He sipped delicately at his wine. “We left the world because we were sick of war, sick of watching people suffer and die in the name of greed and hatred. We spoke out against it and did what we could to stop it, but we were too few, too few.”
There were actually tears in the man’s voice. Haplo could have told him he was wasting a fine performance, at least for his end of the table. Iridal had long since given up any pretense of eating. She had been sitting silently, staring at her plate, until it became obvious that her husband’s attention was centered on his conversation with the Geg. Then she raised her eyes, but their gaze did not go to her husband or to the man seated beside her. She looked at her son, seeing Bane, perhaps, for the first time since he’d arrived. Tears filled her eyes. Swiftly she lowered her head. Lifting her hand to brush aside a stray lock of hair, she hastily wiped the drops from her cheeks. Hugh’s hand, resting on the table opposite him, clenched in pain and anger. How had love’s gilt-edged knife managed to penetrate a heart as tough as that one? Haplo didn’t know and he didn’t care. All he knew was that it was damned inconvenient. The Patryn needed a man of action, since he was barred from action himself. It wouldn’t do at all for Hugh to get himself killed in some foolish, noble chivalric gesture.
Haplo began to scratch his right hand, digging down beneath the bandages, displacing them slightly. The sigla exposed, he casually reached for more bread, managing—in the same movement—to press the back of his hand firmly against the wine pitcher. Grasping the bread in his right hand, he returned it to his plate, brushed his left hand over the bandages covering the right, and the runes were hidden once again.
“Iridal,” Hugh began, “I can’t bear to see you suffer—”
“Why should you care about me?”
“I’m damned if I know!” Hugh leaned near her. “You or your son! I—”
“More wine?” Haplo held up the pitcher.
Hugh glowered, annoyed, and decided to ignore his companion. Haplo poured a glassful and shoved it toward Hugh. The goblet’s base struck the man’s fingers, and wine—real wine—sloshed on his hand and his shirt sleeve.
20
Fruit of which humans are particularly fond. Its tart purple skin covers an almost sickeningly sweet pink meat inside. Those with educated palates believe nothing compares to the subtle blending of flavors when skin and meat are consumed simultaneously. The wine made from this fruit is much coveted by the elves, who, however, scorn eating the bua itself.