Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [53]
“Our guests must be hungry. Is supper ready?”
Gwen hurriedly wiped her eyes on the tail end of her apron and replied, in a faint voice, that the table was laid and invited us to sit down. I was going to help serve, but Eliza said no, I was to sit with the other men.
Joram took his place at the head of the long plank table. He placed Saryon at his right hand. I sat down next to Saryon, on my master’s right.
“I believe you have met Reuven,” Saryon said mildly. “My assistant and scribe. Reuven wrote your story, Joram. At King Garald’s behest, so that the people of Earth could understand our people. The books were very well received. You would like them, I think.”
“I would like to read them!” said Eliza, placing the bowl of steaming beans on the table. She clasped her hands and stared at me in awe. “You write books! You didn’t tell me. How splendid!”
My face was hot enough that we could have toasted the bread by holding it to my cheek. Joram said nothing. Gwen murmured something polite; I’m not sure what, I couldn’t hear for the pounding of blood in my head and the confusion of my thoughts. Eliza was so beautiful. She was regarding me with respect and admiration.
Shipboard romance, I expostulated with myself sternly. You are in a strange and exotic location, meeting under unusual circumstances. Not only that, but I am the first man near her own age she has ever met. It would be completely wrong of me to take advantage of this situation. She would need a friend, in that brave new world to which she was going. I would be that friend and if, after she had met the hundreds of thousands of other young men who would be clamoring for her attention, she happened to still think well of me, I would be there for her. One more catalyst in the throng . . .
Saryon nudged me with his bony knee beneath the stone table. I came back to reality with a jolt, to find that Gwen and Eliza were taking their seats; Eliza sitting directly across from Saryon and Gwen across from her husband. As the women sat down Joram rose to his feet in respect. Saryon and I did the same. We all returned to our seats.
“Father,” said Joram, “would you offer a prayer?” Saryon looked astonished, as well he might, for in the past Joram had never been at all religious. Indeed, he had once held a grudge against the Almin, blaming Him for the tragic circumstances of his life, when by rights the blame should have fallen on the greed and evil ambition of men.
We bowed our heads. I thought I heard a snigger, coming from the vicinity of Teddy, but no one else seemed to hear anything.
“Almin,” Saryon prayed, “bless and keep us in these dark and dangerous times. Help us to work together to defeat this dread enemy, who seeks to destroy and defile the glory of Your creation. Amen.”
Eliza and Gwen murmured “Amen” in response. I said it myself, silently. Joram said nothing. Lifting his head, he sent a black look at Saryon that, if he had seen it, must have struck him to the heart. Fortunately, he did not. My master was studying Eliza, who sat across the table from him.
“You are very much like your grandmother, my dear,” Saryon said to her. “The Empress of Merilon. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in Thimhallan. And she was, one of them.” He turned his mild gaze to Gwen. “The other, of course, was your mother.”
Gwendolyn and Eliza both flushed at the compliment and Eliza asked Saryon to tell her about the Empress, her grandmother.
“Papa never talks about the old days,” Eliza said. “He says that they are gone and it is useless to think about them. I’ve read about Merilon and the rest in the books, but that isn’t the same. Mother has told me some, but not much. . . .”
“Did she tell you about how she saved us from the Duuk-tsarith when we first came to Merilon?” Saryon asked.
“No! Did you, Mama? Will you tell the story?”
Gwen smiled, but she, too, had seen the look her husband