Fay took a step back. His eyes made a rapid visual inspection of Ryl, settling for a moment on the intricate designs tattooed on his arms and chest.
“I’m terribly sorry they almost shot you. There have been a few incidents with the local guards. Your disguises fooled them.” Lord Eligar winced as the severity of the words escaped his lips. “Please tell your friends that they’ll see no harm from us.”
Fay motioned to Breila and Aelin, who were peeking out from behind the pillar of the gate.
Ryl nodded as he turned to his companions. His eyes made contact with both as he casually waved them over.
Breila slid from the back of the horse, tying it to the hitching post of the gatehouse. She helped Aelin down from the mount before walking slowly toward where he stood. Aelin bounded forward. His rather carefree attitude belied the seriousness of the occurrences only moments old. The youngster slid to a stop at Ryl’s side.
Eligar let a wide grin split his face as he casually took a knee.
“Hello, my friend,” Fay announced cheerfully. He held out his hand to the young tribute.
Aelin, smiling, grabbed the proffered hand without hesitation. He gritted his teeth as he squeezed his fingers together. Fay yelped in surprise, wincing in pain. The tribute released his iron grip before the lord begged for mercy. He looked up at Ryl before glancing back at the lord.
His face was a picture of innocence, though a devilish grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
Eligar shook his hand out, squeezing it into and out of a fist, ensuring all his digits still worked.
“I suppose I deserve that on account of the arrows. I’m truly sorry,” Fay pleaded his case. “If I’d have known you were with Ryl, or not dressed as a city guard, I assure you the reception would have been benign.”
Breila strode up confidently, stopping at Ryl’s opposite side. Lord Eligar’s smile melted into a sly grin that would have melted the heart of most impressionable women.
It earned him a hearty slap from the wizened madam.
“Ok. Ok. Enough, please,” Fay begged. “Have I formally made acquaintance with all of your friends? Has the penance for my men firing arrows at you been paid in full?”
“I’ll be satisfied if that smirk never again crosses your face in my presence,” Breila huffed as she folded her arms across her chest.
At his other side, Aelin smirked as he nodded his head. Ryl snorted as he suppressed the laughter.
“On behalf of my friends, I accept.” Ryl grinned. “Breila, Aelin, this is Fay Eligar, Lord of House Eligar.”
Aelin, for all his stubborn indignities, tensed as Ryl made his introduction. Whether it was a conditioned fear of the higher echelons of power or an ingrained subservience that those without are inclined to feel to those with excess, he was unsure. The youngster pressed close to his left side.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” Fay genuflected, the image of proper court grace. “Now let us carry on this conversation indoors. This ghost town still has far too many eyes for my liking.”
Ryl couldn’t agree with the statement more. Though the oppressive hatred was largely absent, he could feel the appraising eyes judging him wherever he travelled.
With a wave of his arm, Fay led them toward the edge of a small cafe set to the southern side of the square. Large fragrant floral arrangements hung from planters on either side of the entrance. A myriad of vibrant reds, fuchsia and purples contrasted against the white that dominated the center of each bloom. The flowers looked almost as if they had been colorless before being dipped into brilliant dyes and hung out to dry.
A small contingent of Lord Eligar’s troops, likely his personal guard, followed several meters behind. All were cloaked much like Andr had been at Ryl’s Harvest, though the deep forest greens that signified his house were reduced to an uninspiring drab grey. Though all were similarly dressed, one figure among them stood out from the rest. The soldiers moved with a feline grace. Their footsteps were muted as they stalked after the small party.
In stark contrast, the other shuffled his feet as he walked. His clumsy steps slapped with every footfall. He made no attempt to hide his limp. Though he carried a short sword strapped to his left hip, Ryl doubted if it was there for more than show. The experienced soldiers pivoted their heads side to side. Their motions, to all appearances, were slight and nonchalant. He knew their eyes maintained a careful survey of the surroundings, keen for any sign of danger. The other’s gaze remained focused. Though his eyes were hidden, Ryl could feel them bore into him.
The cheerful aromas of the decorative flowers hanging outside the door were lost immediately upon entering the small cafe. The sudden waft of the fragrant scents of cooking meat made his stomach rumble. Aelin sighed audibly as he wrapped his arms around his midsection to muffle the growl.
Lord Eligar looked over his shoulder, chuckling as he continued into the building.
The room they entered was dark, though several small lanterns graced each of the walls. The low light was more than enough to confirm that the room was devoid of other guests.
There were a half dozen tables staggered purposefully across a narrow dining room. A large hearth was built into the wall to their left. A bar dominated the wall to their right. Behind them, two sets of windows made up the balance of the exterior wall to the left of the doorway. Their horizontal shutters blotted out the clear glass, allowing only staggered streams of light in through the openings between the slats. The low angle of the final rays of the late day sun cast parallel lines of amber light across the walls. Fay motioned
