Read Online INBORN (The Sagas of Di'Ghon) by J. Lawrence - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J. Lawrence
Ads: Link
grimace, knowing the response before it came.
“Ontar?” The man shook his head in complaint. “That frozen shit hole? What could possibly…”
“Right now.” Lars cut him off.
“Why?”
“After last night, that frozen shit hole is the most important place in all of Arth.”
Lars forced himself to rise on unsteady feet. He dumped the rest of the strong cinnamon tea and kicked snow into the fire ring, extinguishing it in one screeching hiss. It looked like he might have to actually smoke some of that bitter local leaf after all.
Chapter 14
Dropped Platter
The ceiling of Ontar Hold’s great hall vaulted high above, supported by thick white arches, making Thaniel feel like he was inside the ribcage of a long dead great beast. Heavy crimson banners and tapestries, depicting all kinds of scenes, draped down majestically between the beams. The hall was filled with people. Soldiers, merchants, and craftsmen rubbed shoulders with servants and even slaves. Every bench was lined shoulder to shoulder. Where people couldn’t sit, they stood.
Like nothing had happened at all up in that dreaded chamber, Lisella Ontar, still in flowing festival attire, her bright blonde hair now exquisitely ribboned back in place, sat with the surly Irkhir beside her. By her casual manner you’d never guess there was a real live dra imprisoned in a cage of chain right in Ontar Hold. Irkhir’s eyes scanned back and forth in constant vigilance, as though an assassin might suddenly jump out of a slave’s skin. But, he always looked like that.
The hall hushed when Lisella stood. She had Thaniel, all trussed up in red, rise to his feet and be recognized. She said a few words about glory, the Caller this, the Caller that, or something. Thaniel waved, smiled his best, and felt like he won the idiot contest. People actually cheered his name. Lisella Ontar didn’t let him sit back down until after serving girls poured out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with trays.
Since then the food hadn’t stopped rolling out. Drop biscuits with honey. Dried fruit and nuts. Redcakes. Trays and bowls, overflowing with food, bounced constantly from one person to the next, hands darting in to snag whatever could be had. Everyone talked too loud, the way people did when they were gathered in any big room. He heard snippets of gossip, some about the dra statue, some of it about him… most just plain gossip. At least Thaniel’s sighs were completely muted by the din.
He had hoped to see Elycia when the serving girls came out. Probably for the best that she was nowhere to be found. But that bothered him too. At least Keriim was there where he could see him. The man had been glaring at him from the moment Thaniel had spotted him seated a few tables away.
It didn’t take long for the strong honeyed mead, heated wines, and ale to boost the ever-increasing volume of laughter and conversation. Cups clacked, silverware scraped, and armor clinked. People didn’t need much of an excuse to celebrate. They came by his table with all sorts of congratulations that he tried his best to be polite about. Someone he didn’t know hugged him. The man was one of many slaves that would be set free.
Bella, the rotund cook that usually chased him out of the kitchens, personally brought him three steaming bowls of stew. Real stew, with huge chunks of mutton, followed by two redcakes. Two! She actually stood there watching him eat everything before she turned away with a satisfied sniff from her bulbous nose.
Thaniel thought his belly would burst when someone else handed him another redcake, his third. Out of nowhere Jorel appeared and snatched it out of his hand, shoving the fist sized cake into his mouth in one smooth motion.
“Thanks, pal.” Jorel’s mouth spewed pieces of redcake as he laughed. Krant, a grown man that was smaller than most of the children in the hold and sitting across from them, was spotted with a hunk of the bright cake right between the eyes.
“Ontar?” The man shook his head in complaint. “That frozen shit hole? What could possibly…”
“Right now.” Lars cut him off.
“Why?”
“After last night, that frozen shit hole is the most important place in all of Arth.”
Lars forced himself to rise on unsteady feet. He dumped the rest of the strong cinnamon tea and kicked snow into the fire ring, extinguishing it in one screeching hiss. It looked like he might have to actually smoke some of that bitter local leaf after all.
Chapter 14
Dropped Platter
The ceiling of Ontar Hold’s great hall vaulted high above, supported by thick white arches, making Thaniel feel like he was inside the ribcage of a long dead great beast. Heavy crimson banners and tapestries, depicting all kinds of scenes, draped down majestically between the beams. The hall was filled with people. Soldiers, merchants, and craftsmen rubbed shoulders with servants and even slaves. Every bench was lined shoulder to shoulder. Where people couldn’t sit, they stood.
Like nothing had happened at all up in that dreaded chamber, Lisella Ontar, still in flowing festival attire, her bright blonde hair now exquisitely ribboned back in place, sat with the surly Irkhir beside her. By her casual manner you’d never guess there was a real live dra imprisoned in a cage of chain right in Ontar Hold. Irkhir’s eyes scanned back and forth in constant vigilance, as though an assassin might suddenly jump out of a slave’s skin. But, he always looked like that.
The hall hushed when Lisella stood. She had Thaniel, all trussed up in red, rise to his feet and be recognized. She said a few words about glory, the Caller this, the Caller that, or something. Thaniel waved, smiled his best, and felt like he won the idiot contest. People actually cheered his name. Lisella Ontar didn’t let him sit back down until after serving girls poured out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with trays.
Since then the food hadn’t stopped rolling out. Drop biscuits with honey. Dried fruit and nuts. Redcakes. Trays and bowls, overflowing with food, bounced constantly from one person to the next, hands darting in to snag whatever could be had. Everyone talked too loud, the way people did when they were gathered in any big room. He heard snippets of gossip, some about the dra statue, some of it about him… most just plain gossip. At least Thaniel’s sighs were completely muted by the din.
He had hoped to see Elycia when the serving girls came out. Probably for the best that she was nowhere to be found. But that bothered him too. At least Keriim was there where he could see him. The man had been glaring at him from the moment Thaniel had spotted him seated a few tables away.
It didn’t take long for the strong honeyed mead, heated wines, and ale to boost the ever-increasing volume of laughter and conversation. Cups clacked, silverware scraped, and armor clinked. People didn’t need much of an excuse to celebrate. They came by his table with all sorts of congratulations that he tried his best to be polite about. Someone he didn’t know hugged him. The man was one of many slaves that would be set free.
Bella, the rotund cook that usually chased him out of the kitchens, personally brought him three steaming bowls of stew. Real stew, with huge chunks of mutton, followed by two redcakes. Two! She actually stood there watching him eat everything before she turned away with a satisfied sniff from her bulbous nose.
Thaniel thought his belly would burst when someone else handed him another redcake, his third. Out of nowhere Jorel appeared and snatched it out of his hand, shoving the fist sized cake into his mouth in one smooth motion.
“Thanks, pal.” Jorel’s mouth spewed pieces of redcake as he laughed. Krant, a grown man that was smaller than most of the children in the hold and sitting across from them, was spotted with a hunk of the bright cake right between the eyes.
Similar Books
