going to do that on an empty stomach. Let's see if we can at least find some food.'
Thanks to Tarrian's nose, it took them considerably less time to find the refectory than it had to find the chancellor's office, but again Antyr found himself in a position of some embarrassment as, after rooting through his pockets, he found he had insufficient funds for the meal being provided.
Here, however, chance stepped in to save him in the form of a chance meeting with the old ‘layer of tables’ who had escorted him to his room.
'Lord Menedrion's guests. Both of them,’ he said tersely to the gravy-streaked bondsman who was serving the meals. This, however, was the end of his familiarity as he wandered off immediately with his own meal to the far end of one of the long tables.
Tarrian chuckled. ‘That's your place in the pack well marked out,’ he said. ‘Better than a kitchen hand but less than a layer of tables.'
Antyr, however, was occupied in rubbing a wet finger across the sign of the kitchen servitor's calling that the bondsman, with a surly but deft swing of his ladle, had just anointed his tunic with while ostensibly serving his meal.
'This is wonderful. Dream Finder to the Duke of Serenstad and his family,’ Tarrian said acidly as Antyr sat down. ‘Nearly thrown into the Watch Pen by a clerk, confined to the palace by our client, and, but for the intervention of a table layer, starving amid plenty.'
'Eat your food and shut up,’ Antyr said, frowning. ‘I'm in no mood for your sarcasm.'
'Sorry,’ Tarrian said, genuinely repentant. ‘I was only trying to cheer you … oh-oh…'
Antyr looked up to see what had halted Tarrian's reply. It needed little finding. The head of a large hunting dog could clearly be seen above the table as it moved towards them along the aisle opposite. As it drew nearer, it caught sight of Tarrian and stopped. Then it began to move forward again, slowly and purposefully, its head lowered.
Antyr glanced round in search of its owner, but found only a group of four young men gleefully watching the dog's progress.
'Don't start a fight,’ Antyr said. But there was no reply except, ‘Close your ears,’ followed by some garbled comment about territory and food.
Antyr knew better than to interfere, but found himself cringing nervously.
Coming within a few paces of Tarrian, the big dog stopped and glared at him malevolently. Tarrian, who was lying down and who had been eating, seemingly obliviously, stopped and, slowly looking up, returned the stare. Antyr saw his lip curl very slightly and heard a faint, low growl. Then part of Tarrian's debate with the dog leaked into his mind and he recoiled inwardly at both the menacing images of mayhem and gore, and the implacable will behind them.
The big dog however, presumably received the full benefit of Tarrian's wisdom as its manner changed abruptly. Its ears drooped, its tail went between its legs, and after a few hesitant backward steps it turned, trotted back to the four men and lay at their feet, to their obvious dismay. Tarrian returned to his eating.
'You certainly seem to have a way with words,’ Antyr said.
'Well, I'm certainly having more success with the residents than you are,’ Tarrian replied. ‘You should learn how to explain yourself properly like I do.'
Antyr smiled. ‘I think you're probably right,’ he said. ‘But I doubt either the Duke or Menedrion would appreciate that kind of language. Not to mention Ciarll Feranc or even Aaken Uhr Candessa.'
'Talking of whom,’ Tarrian said, standing up. ‘We'd better find him and get all this sorted out. I wasn't being sarcastic when I said we might starve to death wandering about here.'
Antyr pushed his plate to one side and wiped his mouth. The food had made him feel more settled. He nodded in agreement with Tarrian's comment. They could blunder about the palace indefinitely, relying on chance and their wits to feed and house them unless they came to some clear arrangement with someone … somewhere …
A small spark of indignation flickered unexpectedly into life inside him. After all, they hadn't asked to come here. They had been sought out by the Duke himself-and his son-and escorted through the streets by no less a personage than Ciarll Feranc himself. They shouldn't have to be buffeted about by minor clerks and splashed by kitchen servants.
He stood up with great dignity and began walking towards the door. ‘You've got gravy on your chin,’ Tarrian said padding after him. Antyr glared down at him, and surreptitiously wiped his face.
Outside the refectory, however, Antyr's new-found purpose faltered. On arrival, he had been following Tarrian's accelerating hunt for food and he had scarcely noticed where he was. Now he found himself in a wide brightly lit corridor, lined, as seemed to be the case throughout the palace, with magnificent works of art: pictures, carvings, tapestries. Even the cornices around the ceiling were an example of the finest plasterers’ art with their elaborate interwoven patterns of branches and leaves housing strange birds and insects and occasional haunting faces.
And the lamps here don't smoke, he thought. Unexpectedly, he felt a twinge of homesickness for his own bare room with its cracked and stained walls.
Tarrian stood silent by his side until the moment passed.
'Where do we start?’ Antyr said, recovering.
At each end of the corridor there were large open spaces and it was intersected by at least three other corridors and a staircase. ‘I don't know,’ Tarrian said, in a mildly injured tone. ‘I can get us back to our rooms but even if I could remember Aaken's scent I couldn't find him in this lot.'
Antyr nodded. Obviously he should ask someone, but who? There were a great many people walking about, some in formal livery, some wearing what were obviously robes of office. He recognized palace messengers and Sened couriers, and there were a few black-gowned clerks, though they were more expensively dressed than those he had already encountered. Then there were various guards and servants, and a random assortment of what he would have classed as ordinary folk had it not been for their wealth being manifest in their clothing and their authority being manifest in their bearing.
Some were moving slowly in pairs and small groups, engaged in earnest conversations, some were striding out alone, others were fussing along busily bearing documents. But all were moving with confident and intimidating purposefulness.
Antyr stood motionless for a moment but no opportunity for a timely interruption seemed to present itself and the small flame of indignation guttered uncertainly as he began to feel profoundly conspicuous again.
'Ask one of the guards,’ both he and Tarrian said simultaneously.
Before they could begin to implement this decision, however, a commotion at one end of the corridor brought all activity to a halt and drew all eyes.
The cause soon became apparent as Menedrion strode round the corner flanked by a bustling assembly of guards, officials, scribes and young courtiers. He was talking loudly and, each time he paused, one of the satellites would detach itself from the mass and run off to execute some command.
'Go on,’ Tarrian urged, but Antyr hesitated as the group moved relentlessly towards them.
Tarrian sighed.
'Lord,’ he said distinctly into both Menedrion's and Antyr's minds as the Duke's son strode past.
Menedrion stopped abruptly and turned to Antyr.
'There, that wasn't difficult, was it?’ Tarrian said to Antyr. ‘Go on, ask him. And stand up straight, for pity's sake!'
Antyr, however, merely gaped as he found himself not only the focus of Menedrion s attention, but everyone else's as well.
'Your pardon, Lord. But your servant neglected to tell me…’ Tarrian prompted.
'Your pardon, Lord…’ Antyr said hesitantly. ‘But your servant neglected to tell me…'
'When I should attend on you…'
'When I should attend on you tonight … and where,’ he added finally in response to another nudge from Tarrian.
Menedrion gazed at him blankly for a moment, then, as he noted Tarrian, recognition dawned. For the briefest instant, panic flitted through his eyes, then anger and confusion.
'Stand up straight,’ Tarrian repeated. ‘And meet his gaze, politely.'
