Free Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) by Kristian Alva Page B

those.”
    “Aye, we do ‘ave a few. Will half of one be enough? The king likes ‘em, so we’re tryin’ to ration ‘em a bit.”
    “That’s fine. I’ll take whatever ye can give me. And bring me a big jug o’ ale from the cellar.” He dug into his pocket and tossed her a copper coin. The girl caught it in the air with her free hand. With a small smile on her lips, she tucked the coin into her apron. “Thank ye, sir. I’ll be right back with yer plate.” She spun around and disappeared into the kitchen.
    Skemtun leaned back and let his mind relax while he waited for his order. All around him, people chatted and laughed. A rousing song erupted at a nearby table, and an enthusiastic group jumped up to sing, swaying back and forth as they loudly shouted the lyrics.
    Skemtun smiled and began to whistle. It was an old melody, a bard’s tribute to a lost love. He’d heard this song a thousand times before.
    More and more stood up to sing, and some even leapt on top of their tables. Soon, the whole place was singing along.
    I see the face of my fair maiden,
    In the stars each night up high,
    Her eyes they haunt me still,
    T’was just three moons ago she died,
     
    I held ‘er near, and I held ‘er tight,
    That blessed day, I swore I’d love ‘er all me life.
    But she was lost to me one summer night,
    Aye, ohhh ...those stormy winds shall blow.
    He felt tears welling up in his eyes and rubbed them away. The serving girl reappeared minutes later with a heaping tray of meat and mushrooms, still steaming from the ovens. The food was a welcome sight.
    She placed the plate in front of him along with a jug of ale. Skemtun rubbed his hands together, sniffing the delicious aroma. “Thank ye, lass, this looks delicious. It’s fine and warm.”
    He yanked the stopper off the jug and took a long drink. The cold ale went down his throat in a frothy torrent. “By Golka, that tastes good,” he said, wiping foam from his beard with the back of his hand.
    “Och! Ye’re sure enjoyin’ it! Ye must ‘ave been thirsty!” the girl teased him.
    “Aye,” he said, nodding. “I always enjoy good food and drink, ‘specially if I don’t ‘ave to cook it!”
    She offered him another smile. “Will that be all now?”
    “Just keep the drinks comin’, lass,” Skemtun said. “As soon as you see I’m gettin’ empty, bring me another round.”
    She nodded. “All right then, enjoy yer supper,” she said as she walked away, moving on to the next hungry customer.
    He pulled a sharp little knife from his waistband and wiped it on his sleeve. Then he sliced a corner of fat, swirled it in gravy and took a bite. The first taste was so good that he barely paused to chew.
    He carved more meat and popped it in his mouth, relishing the way the fatty bits melted with the saucy mushrooms in his mouth. Juices dribbled down his chin. He wiped them off with his hand, not stopping for a moment. With every swallow, he felt better.
    Silently, he finished off the last of the meat, washed it down with beer, and pushed his empty plate away. He felt much better after the meal—at peace somehow. Skemtun started humming a happy tune.
    It was then that he realized someone was watching him. He scanned the shadiest corners of the hall, squinting into the hazy darkness. In a corner near the fireplace, he spotted a tall human man. Skemtun ventured a quick glance at the stranger. He stood with shoulders squared and hands behind him, his face shadowed by the flickering torch on the wall.
    They locked eyes for a few seconds before Skemtun snapped his head away. He didn’t have the energy to deal with any humans right now.
    The man walked straight toward him. Skemtun held his breath. What does this person want? The man stepped closer and closer, and Skemtun hoped he would walk right past him as if he weren’t there. Humans always brought problems.
    But he didn’t pass by. Instead, the stranger stopped right behind Skemtun and tapped him on the shoulder.