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‘Yes, I’m feeling a little parched my self.’ Dulaan’s stomach rumbled as she shifted on her cushion. ‘And hungry, too,’ she said, grinning a little at her old friend. She stood up from her seat and planted her hands on the smooth, pine table top. ‘Let me just have a look about. My little helpers should be making their way back with drink and food.’
Granny’s eyes scanned the room. She wiped at. her eyes, trying to clear them of the smoke from the lamps and torches. ‘Don’t see ‘em yet, ‘ she hmmph’d to her friend. Her eyes darted toward the banquet table and traced the most direct route back to her table. ‘Don’t see the rascals,’ she went on. ‘But then I don’t suppose they would take the easiest room to and from.’ She chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. ‘The Elves! She talked her brother into getting her a close-up view of them.’
One of those sudden hushes rolled across the room diverting her attention. Granny’s brow furrowed as she sought the source. Those must be the Elves! And have mercy, weren’t they making toward Grimr and Káta.
Motion, too, seemed to have come to a standstill as the ambassadors made their way across the floor. A whir of movement caught her eye. Valr! And wasn’t that Jóra he was pulling along by the hand . . .
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