Fay smiled as his eyes roved the room absently. The thoughts that temporarily overtook his mind caused a smile to form upon his lips. He laughed to himself, taking a heavy draught of the wine before continuing.
“You did well to choose the messenger to bear your letter,” Eligar acknowledged. “Seems his knack for subterfuge was underestimated by those who meant him harm.”
Ryl shot a worried glance toward the lord. They understood that Cade would be in unique danger, yet the assurances of Aldren, his father, were concrete.
“He arrived unscathed. He is a remarkable young man. You did well to entrust him with such a sensitive letter. He tells a rather unbelievable story,” Fay added, though he failed to expound further on the details. “I understand that his father makes his way to him now. I’ll let the boy deliver the fortuitous news when he arrives.”
Ekard plodded out of the kitchen with a tray of plates. Steam wafted up in a pale trail of aromas that followed as he walked.
“I’ve granted them land and a title,” Fay added as he eagerly eyed the approaching food. “They are to have a long-standing position of influence within my house. It’s not often that I come across those I can trust, and trust completely. Andr was a rare specimen. I look forward to the day that I can shake his hand again, though he has made me considerably less rich having survived the ordeal.”
Ekard interrupted the conversation as he carefully placed the first of the heavily laden plates on the table in front of Breila. He served Lord Eligar next before returning to the tray for dishes for Aelin and Ryl. The young tribute dove in with the appetite and manners of a starved wolf. Fay chuckled as he watched the boy devour the food in front of him.
“It doesn’t seem so long ago,” he said as his eyes wandered to Ryl. “It harkens memories of you during our first meal.”
Aelin stopped mid bite as the embarrassment washed over him. He raised his head, looking sheepishly at his companions.
“Never fear. I’ll not tell Sarial,” Ryl whispered, patting the youngster on the back. Aelin grinned as he dove in again, this time with slightly improved manners.
“Your hospitality precedes you, as always, Lord Eligar,” he added. “Your kindness can never truly be repaid.”
“Yet I will neither demand nor accept payment from you,” Fay replied with a sternness to his voice that broached no question. “Now eat. I can see it in your eyes that our meeting will again be brief.”
Ryl smiled a halfhearted grin as he nodded his head. Fay, though expecting the response, failed to hide his reactions. Ryl watched as the hint of remorse flashed across his face. It was quickly hidden behind a raised glass of wine.
For a moment, the conversation grew light as the consumption of the hearty food required attention. Ekard had served a dish piled high of braised meats smothered in a delightfully tangy, thin sauce. Ryl cautioned the young tribute at his side, though he himself ate quickly.
There was still much to be discussed with Lord Eligar. His arrival had been a fortuitous surprise. The addition of his troops was a boon to their hopes for survival, yet the weight of the responsibility leaned heavily on him. He was sure the Erlyn could provide for the tributes and the meager host of soldiers that had accompanied them. They needed to buy a few weeks at most.
How would they feed an army?
He feared he had little time to concern himself with logistics.
Though he ate, he found it hard to concentrate on the conversation or truly enjoy the food at hand. Ryl scanned repeatedly with his mindsight. Though the image failed to illuminate anything of interest, he couldn’t help but feel he was close. The nagging sensation that he was being drawn in, led to follow a target just out of reach, was as alluring as it was worrisome. Whether he could sense the presence of Kaep, or whether his mind imagined it, he was unclear. At a distance, all seemed clouded with a layer of darkness.
“What is it you seek here in the city proper?” Fay inquired. The clinking of the silverware on his plate rang out through the empty room. “From what I’d heard, you’ve moved the tributes into the depths of The Stocks.”
“Aye, and there they remain,” Ryl added. “The army pursued us to the end. To the border of the woods. The Lei Guard came at night. One of ours was taken. It is her I seek.”
Fay whistled through his teeth.
“Her?” Far grinned. “Who is she?”
Ryl suppressed a twinge of annoyance at the insinuation. He worked to let the reaction not show across his face.
“She is one of those Andr and I were sent to seek in the Outlands,” he explained. “She is a friend. She is a phrenic.”
There was a shuffle of feet and a rustling of fabric as the peculiar figure from the door removed his hood, scurrying toward the table. Ryl’s hand shifted to the Leaves, yet the calm demeanor of Fay stilled his reaction.
“A phrenic? A phrenic from the Outlands is here?” The hoarse voice accentuated the aged features of the man who approached. His hair was a mass of disheveled, curly grey locks that appeared not to have been tended in cycles. His face was covered with a smattering of patches of wiry white stubble, some far longer than the others, doing little to discourage his wild appearance.
Fay rose to his feet as the man approached.
“Ryl, let me introduce you to your true benefactor,” Fay interjected. “Meet Old Man Averine.”
The uncertain posture and aloofness of the cloaked figure made sense to Ryl as the old man padded closer to the table. His focused gaze was locked squarely on Ryl as he approached. Ryl had felt the eyes on him.
