"A tale, by my word, a tale," enjoined a voice, neither sharp nor shallow, and Eodwine, Saeryn and Falco looked up behind them to see Ruthven and Bethberry approach.
"You're late," observed Falco, "we've all supped and then some. I won't be tellin' any tales to those on empty stomachs."
A ripple of laughter burst out from the Innkeeper while the older woman cackled. "And will ye be thinkin' we won't be applaudin' your efforts, our stomachs bigger than our fancies?" inguired Ruthven, who was always ready for a little give and take--although sometimes it was take and give--with the halfling.
"Pfft, as if I worried over what the audience thinks," intoned Falco solemnly.
"It's all appetite, as you will," replied Ruthven, "and sometimes words make a savoury sauce to coat the roasted bird."
"No one's being roasted here," interrupted Falco.
"Now, now," interjected Eodwine. "Let's save the flaming desserts until after our dinners have settled a bit. Please, Bethberry, Ruthven, won't you join our table?"
Bethberry nodded appreciatively at Eodwine's fine manners. She wondered why he was here and not away on his errand for the king, but she was too well mannered to ask directly what caused the change in his plans. The woman Giedd came to mind, but she thought better of asking directly about her.
"We were afraid a hungry halfling such as yourself wouldn't leave anything for us, so we ate else," commented Ruthven.
"Ruthven, for shame! We thought nothing of it and don't you start in so soon after bread has been broken with your teasing ways." Bethberry turned towards Saeryn.
"We had dinner at Ruthven's with the young girl Ćňelhild, who for some reason is too shy and skittish to want to be seen by others. She's returned with us now, but gone to the back room to sort some linen, for she was anxious, she said, to earn her keep."
"What! Ruthven a cook? And did she serve rewarmed mutton with day old bread?" asked Falco, his eyes wide with wonder and just a glint of merriment in them.
Saeryn could not hold back at this possibility. "Falco, you are simply attempting to change the subject. It was a tale I asked for, not a roast. Please now, regale us."
Bethberry and Ruthven pulled two chairs up to the large table and poured themselves some water.
"I second that request," said Bethberry. "Play on, McTeller, please," she remarked to the halfling, noting at the same time the slight furrow in Eodwine's brow.
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