Read Online Greyrawk (Book 2) by Jim Greenfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Jim Greenfield
Ads: Link
recognition came to his eyes. Greyrawk sipped his wine, nibbled on the pork, enjoyed the bread, but otherwise sat silent and listened to the cacophony around him.
There were a dozen armed Men along the perimeter of the room; a testament to the trust of Belderag and the goodwill his guests felt for him. Each guard wore Belderag's raven device; Greyrawk saw no others. It was the same device the riders wore who chased him to Greyrawk Mountain. On the far side, he saw Lord and Lady Nunderburg entering late. He caught Lady Nunderburg's eye and nodded his head to her. She nodded back, and then looked away. Greyrawk realized suddenly, his contact with her should be discreet. Her husband was too deep in Belderag's pocket not to expose her to Belderag. From time to time, he glanced in her direction but he never caught her looking at him. He knew his limitations in political maneuvering. He was well over his head.
He did not make small talk with either man beside him and they did not offer conversation either. He sensed their tenseness, ready to protect Arenna he assumed. Few of Arenna's people knew his identity and Arenna did not announce his presence when they arrived for the feast. He felt a chill and looked up. Dacu Belderag was considering him more closely and leaned to someone speaking to him. Greyrawk wondered why the man wore a hood during a meal. His heart skipped when he caught a flash of copper eyes from that hood, but he couldn't be sure as the man rose and departed.
"That is Machel Moet, Belderag's most trusted advisor," said a voice close to him. It sounded like Brandalay but Greyrawk had not seen him in Arenna's company when they reached the great hall. He glanced behind him and saw a man of Brandalay's size but the coloring was too pale. He wasn't surprised at this point if it was Brandalay. All of Arenna's men seem to have muted their appearances. Obviously Belderag does not know their real identities.
"Copper eyes and pale skin, almost Celaeri-like, but of course that would be ridiculous to believe a Celaeri could walk boldly in Belderag's hall."
Greyrawk did not make a point of looking, but his casual glances around the room made him aware that Belderag had taken an interest in him. He kept his attention on his meal of chicken stew.
Greyrawk had eaten his fill; and then leaned back to drain his tankard. He realized the room had gone quiet. He looked around and saw others looking in his direction.
"Arenna!" Belderag nearly shouted. He was standing, his finger pointing at Greyrawk. "Who is that?"
"Who does he appear to be?" asked Arenna. "He's my guest."
"Sir, are you addressing me?" asked Greyrawk lightly.
"No, sir. I am addressing my daughter, but since you have spoken, please tell me your name."
"Do you not know it?"
"Do not play me for a fool! This is my hall and I will have your head! My guests are here by my invitation and I do not know you. I did not invite you."
"I am a guest of Lady Arenna, Lord Belderag. Do you execute your guests? I had no idea or I would have refused to attend. Imagine the scandal! The king would like to hear of such things. I will tell him when I return to the south."
Belderag's mouth hung open at Greyrawk's audacity.
"Father, our guest would like to see his grandfather's sword."
"What?" Belderag's face turned red. Arenna's men had their hands on their swords. Belderag's supporters tensed. No one spoke for several heartbeats.
"My name is Ian Greyrawk. I have returned to reclaim what is mine."
The hall was quiet except for the sound of short shallow breathing. Then Belderag exhaled mightily.
"Do you indeed," said Belderag, smiling now. "Well, that is easily said. And I can see Arenna and her dubious supporters are prepared to defend you. A most interesting development indeed. We shall not have blood shed today, Greyrawk. This is a feast for the harvest, and to celebrate our landowners. It is an ill omen to spill blood in anger during the feast. The darkness is too close
There were a dozen armed Men along the perimeter of the room; a testament to the trust of Belderag and the goodwill his guests felt for him. Each guard wore Belderag's raven device; Greyrawk saw no others. It was the same device the riders wore who chased him to Greyrawk Mountain. On the far side, he saw Lord and Lady Nunderburg entering late. He caught Lady Nunderburg's eye and nodded his head to her. She nodded back, and then looked away. Greyrawk realized suddenly, his contact with her should be discreet. Her husband was too deep in Belderag's pocket not to expose her to Belderag. From time to time, he glanced in her direction but he never caught her looking at him. He knew his limitations in political maneuvering. He was well over his head.
He did not make small talk with either man beside him and they did not offer conversation either. He sensed their tenseness, ready to protect Arenna he assumed. Few of Arenna's people knew his identity and Arenna did not announce his presence when they arrived for the feast. He felt a chill and looked up. Dacu Belderag was considering him more closely and leaned to someone speaking to him. Greyrawk wondered why the man wore a hood during a meal. His heart skipped when he caught a flash of copper eyes from that hood, but he couldn't be sure as the man rose and departed.
"That is Machel Moet, Belderag's most trusted advisor," said a voice close to him. It sounded like Brandalay but Greyrawk had not seen him in Arenna's company when they reached the great hall. He glanced behind him and saw a man of Brandalay's size but the coloring was too pale. He wasn't surprised at this point if it was Brandalay. All of Arenna's men seem to have muted their appearances. Obviously Belderag does not know their real identities.
"Copper eyes and pale skin, almost Celaeri-like, but of course that would be ridiculous to believe a Celaeri could walk boldly in Belderag's hall."
Greyrawk did not make a point of looking, but his casual glances around the room made him aware that Belderag had taken an interest in him. He kept his attention on his meal of chicken stew.
Greyrawk had eaten his fill; and then leaned back to drain his tankard. He realized the room had gone quiet. He looked around and saw others looking in his direction.
"Arenna!" Belderag nearly shouted. He was standing, his finger pointing at Greyrawk. "Who is that?"
"Who does he appear to be?" asked Arenna. "He's my guest."
"Sir, are you addressing me?" asked Greyrawk lightly.
"No, sir. I am addressing my daughter, but since you have spoken, please tell me your name."
"Do you not know it?"
"Do not play me for a fool! This is my hall and I will have your head! My guests are here by my invitation and I do not know you. I did not invite you."
"I am a guest of Lady Arenna, Lord Belderag. Do you execute your guests? I had no idea or I would have refused to attend. Imagine the scandal! The king would like to hear of such things. I will tell him when I return to the south."
Belderag's mouth hung open at Greyrawk's audacity.
"Father, our guest would like to see his grandfather's sword."
"What?" Belderag's face turned red. Arenna's men had their hands on their swords. Belderag's supporters tensed. No one spoke for several heartbeats.
"My name is Ian Greyrawk. I have returned to reclaim what is mine."
The hall was quiet except for the sound of short shallow breathing. Then Belderag exhaled mightily.
"Do you indeed," said Belderag, smiling now. "Well, that is easily said. And I can see Arenna and her dubious supporters are prepared to defend you. A most interesting development indeed. We shall not have blood shed today, Greyrawk. This is a feast for the harvest, and to celebrate our landowners. It is an ill omen to spill blood in anger during the feast. The darkness is too close
Similar Books
