Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [32]
"Yes, sir… ma'am. Would you repeat that?"
Tarl repeated his order and his query.
"Well, we have some quail eggs that the cook does a terrific job on. They'd go well with your chowder." The tavern worker's intense blue eyes never left Shal as he spoke, and Tarl noticed that she was turning red under the big man's scrutiny.
"Is there something going on here that I'm not aware of? Do you two know each other?" asked Tarl, irritated by the attention the man was paying to Shal, not to mention the obvious discomfort he was causing her.
"No, sir," said the tavern worker, and he bowed hurriedly and left the table. Tarl noted that the man did not move like a typical tavern worker. Despite the fact that he stood a hand taller than Tarl and had brawn that rivaled Anton's, the big man made his way through the crowd with the grace of a warrior, or perhaps even a thief.
In minutes, he returned with a tray full of food, which he spread out on the table one dish at a time. Again, his full attention was focused on Shal.
"Are you always in the habit of staring at the inn's guests?" Tarl asked, catching the tavern worker's sleeve to get his attention.
"Was I staring?" The waiter paused, and his face flushed a deep red. He realized that was exactly what he had been doing. "Please accept my apologies. It's just that you… you remind me of someone. I really am sorry."
"Hey, you!" came a shout from a nearby table. "What happened to our food?"
"Yeah, what does a guy have to do to get some service in this joint?" called another voice.
Ren was oblivious. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm called Ren… Ren o' the Blade." Ren shook Tarl's hand and then Shal's. He consciously looked down at the floor to avoid staring again. The woman could have passed for Tempest's twin. Seeing her was eerie, like seeing a ghost, but overwhelming at the same time. The woman shared all the traits that had originally attracted him to Tempest-her firm figure, her captivating eyes, her flowing red hair. And if anything, she was even prettier. Her facial features were fine for a woman her size, and the green of her eyes was even more intense than Tempest's had been.
One of the men who had called from a nearby table, a warrior with a sword and a long dagger at his belt, was approaching Ren from behind. "Hey, you there!" The man's words were slow and slurred, but Ren understood nonetheless. "Ya big galoot! We got food comin', and we're sick o' waitin' for you."
"I'd like to speak with you again later if I have a chance," Ren said to Tarl and Shal, then turned to face the warrior. "Excuse me." He turned and ushered the drunk back to his table. "I'll have your food in a minute," Ren said as he sat the man down firmly. "Now, if you'll all pardon me," he added, bowing as he left the warrior and his companions.
Shal watched Ren work his way back through the crowd, then she turned back to Tarl. "First that seamstress, and now this guy. Every time I start to feel as if I can cope with the change in my appearance, someone looks at me as if I were a freak."
"He said you remind him of someone. I'm sure that's why he was staring," Tarl assured her. "He didn't seem to be trying to be rude or unmannerly. In fact, he went out of his way to be polite and took a big chance of offending that warrior and his comrades."
"That's for sure. I hope he doesn't turn his back on those fellows tonight." Shal took her first spoonful of the chowder and realized after having a second that she was famished. Tarl did likewise, and the two forgot about conversation and began to eat heartily.
When Ren finally brought out the beef pies and refills of the pitchers of ale ordered by the table of fighters, they complained bluntly about his service. Under ordinary circumstances, Ren probably would have apologized and tried to do something to make amends, but on this night, he wasn't even paying attention. Instead, he was staring once again at Shal. He set the plates down on one end of the table, making no attempt to match orders. And when