Chapter 3 - A Test of Faith

Tagada stood up suddenly and his chair went flying behind him.

“What is this filth?”

Anna was silent a second. She looked at her uncle and then up at Tagada. “Are you joking?”

The entire room had gone bone quiet.

Lord Feterene looked up at Tagada. His bushy eyebrows framed eyes that heralded the arrival of thunderclouds and fury. “What is the meaning of this?”

Those runes caused his head to pound behind his eyes and his stomach pounded on the offbeat. Between the two, he had no room to think.

“Those are the runes of the dark gods!” He yelled, spittle flying from his mouth. Even a quick glance at the blade had told him that was true. He wanted to fly into a rage. He wanted to caress it and run its edge along his belly. The blade was reaching out to him.

Roars of outrage along the table met his pronouncement.

Anna laid a hand on the sword’s hilt and her voice was a quiet whisper. “Pilgrim, be mindful what you say.”

“Put that accursed thing away! It is a thing of evil! No good can come of it!” Tagada was practically pleading. He desperately wanted to go back to one minute ago and have her pull something, anything else to show him. Even a deadly ember-viper would have been better.

She grabbed the blade’s hilt and started to rise and face Tagada.

“Anna.” The baron’s voice cut through the chamber and everyone fell silent.

She paused midway through rising.

“He is still our guest of honour. Please, seat yourself. Though he may dishonour us, we will not lower ourselves to his level.”

“But lord, you heard him! We cannot allow this sort of insult.”

“And we do not have to. After the feast, he will no longer be our guest of honour and our honour will not be at stake. Now please. sit.”

One look at Feterene and Tagada could tell that he was even more furious than Anna. But he managed to hold it in check somehow. Unusual for an aqshian.

Tagada stood rooted to the spot. He looked behind himself at the doorway. How far could he get before they would catch him? He thought of the hammer at his waist. How many could he kill before they got him? He couldn’t think. His stomach pounded.

And a servant passed by, placing dishes in front of Anna, Tagada, and then Lord Feterene. The smell caught Tagada by surprise. It was divine.

He looked back between the door and the table and then moved away from the table. Half of the people stood, hands on weapons. Lord Feterene glowered.

And Tagada retrieved his chair and brought it back to the table. “My apologies,” he said. They might have poisoned his food, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He couldn’t think at all. Later he would reflect on it and judge, somewhat pointlessly, that it was worth the risk anyway. After all, these seemed the type to butcher him, not poison him.

Tagada dove into his plate without any regard for decorum. He needed the food and it felt good to eat it. His mother had been the same way. Was that the Ghur in him?

He polished off his plate and sat back. Anna had reattached the blade to her waist, and his stomach had finally stopped bothering him.

A servant brought another plate around and he accepted it, though he accepted it more as something to do rather than food to eat. He knew better than to overeat after breaking a fast. His stomach didn’t like it when he did that.

The others were eating. Conversation was muted. There was no sound of dice, little laughing. Just murmers. Neither Lord Feterene or Lady Anna were talking with anyone. They were eating, focusing on their plate, and doing their level best to look anywhere except at Tagada.

Now that his mind was clear, he was able to think. Lord Feterene had been clear. Once the feast was over, there was going to be trouble. He’d eaten fast enough that most others were still only partway through their meal. That gave him a little bit of time to think.

Somehow, he had to figure out a way out of this. He looked over to his right and saw Lord Feterene reach out with a massive arm with criss-crossed scars and skewer one of the few remaining pieces of meat from his plate. Spittle flew from his mouth as she shoveled the meat in. The end of the meal would be soon. But as he saw how little was left on the man’s plate, he knew his time was short.