The Innkeeper came running into the Mead Hall, breathless from her efforts to secure the other areas of the White Horse. What she found in the great room was cause for mixed feelings.
It was a tableaux of sorts. In the foreground at centre stage stood Eodwine and the brigand Rand, Eodwine still with his hand on his sword and the brigand frozen in a pose of fury, anger, and unbelief. Garreth and Harreld lay spread at their feet, a sort of carpet defense. To the left, a tender aside of brother and sister. Tears were not enough here to help Saeryn recover her memory. Behind Eodwine stood Gudryn, her hands spread forth as if to grab hold of the man who had sworn to protect her. In her eyes was a wild panic, as if she would flee if she could only find the courage to force her feet to move.
The background told a different tale. There was Ruthven, watching Rand with a certain smug satisfaction spread over her face. She seemed to be watching a dwarf who had walked away from Eodwine and taken a back seat to the adventure. Bethberry thought the dwarf looked familiar but she couldn't be sure as she always found dwarven beards confoundedly like camoflauge. Once or twice she had even mistaken a female for a male dwarf, but that was another story long ago. Then there was a complete stranger sipping beer on the bench. Who are these people to help themselves to the Horse's tipple? she asked herself.
Each person seemed to hold the pose long enough for her to survey the scene and then a sudden bustle of conversation broke forth.
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