Darkwell - Douglas Niles [20]
This, the largest room in the castle, was warmed by four great fireplaces, one on each wall, and illuminated by innumerable torches set in sconces along the walls. It felt good, Tristan decided, to dress in a fine tunic and sit at the head of such a grand table. The aromas of pork and meat puddings mixed with the smoke of the fires, causing his stomach to rumble eagerly.
"When do we eat?" Newt demanded indignantly, suddenly popping into view on Tristan's plate. "I've been waiting for hours!"
The king laughed, even as the kitchen doors burst open and kitchen maids, carrying heaping platters of food and foaming pitchers of ale, emerged. Newt buzzed delightedly into the air and disappeared again. Yazilliclick, presumably, was resting somewhere. Sprites are notoriously nervous among crowds.
Tristan took no notice, at the time, of the young woman in peasant garb who took the last seat at the king's table. No one seemed to know who she was, but her appearance was stunning, and since most of the occupants of the table were male, no objection was raised. With a toss of her red hair, she sat among them. Soon Randolph laughed at some humorous remark she made, and shortly thereafter Tristan forgot about her.
Robyn looked up suddenly, disturbed by a vague disquiet. She looked around the table uneasily, though her gaze passed by the strange woman without noticing her, as if the woman were invisible.
Events were moving too quickly for the king to fully accept that his long voyage had finally ended. Everyone talked at once. His mug seemed to fill of its own accord whenever the level of foam dipped more than an inch below the brim. It felt wonderful to be home, and he basked in the admiration of his people as Daryth, Pawldo, and even Pontswain described their adventures.
The crowd fell gradually silent at Pawldo's account of the battle against the monstrous forces of High King Carrathal and the Black Wizard Cyndre. The halfling's voice fell to a dramatic hush as he described the rage of the Earthmother, telling in vivid detail of the roaring torrent of sea that washed onto shore, carrying away not only great chunks of the island of Callidyrr but also the army of the former High King as well. Ever the showman, Pawldo paused a beat.
"Don't leave us hanging, fellow! What happens next?" Tavish demanded.
"That's the good part," the king said, laughing. "A few hours later, a fisherman sailed from shore to our island. He wanted to know what had happened to his bay. All we could tell him was that it had gotten a lot bigger!"
"And he brought you home to Corwelt?"
"Oh, it wasn't that simple," interjected Pawldo again. "First we had to go to Llewellyn. The lord there had a feast for us all and summoned all the lords of Callidyrr to attend the official coronation." He looked at Tristan with pride, as if he personally was responsible for his old friend's ascent to the throne.
"The celebration went on for a week! Of course, Pontswain took the first ship out to bring word to Corwell, but those Callidyrrians – Callidytes? – couldn't get enough of our hero!" Tristan stole a guilty look at Robyn as Pawldo continued, and she smiled back at him.
Newt swooped back onto Tristan's plate, lighting among clean-picked bones, and looked around for a snack. "Here," Tristan joked, tilting his mug toward the dragon. To his surprise, Newt stuck his muzzle into the foamy ale and slurped loudly, smacking his lips as Pawldo continued the tale.
"Finellen and the dwarves decided to walk home, though how you walk from one island to another, I'm sure I don't know. Then the storm hit, and we had to stay in Llewellyn even longer – not that we minded, of course. But finally Captain Dansforth and the Defiant were ready to sail. And here we are!"
"This black wizard," asked Grunnarch as the guests turned again to their own conversations. "Is he an aspect of the evil you spoke of?"
"I'm certain of it." Tristan frowned at the memory. "The Beast that corrupted your own leader, and