“But they have brought us some sort of… tiny loaves,” said Darak.
Izek picked up one of the long, thin pieces, speckled with garlic and parsley, and gave it an inquisitive sniff. “Yes, bread,” he said. “Rods of bread.”
“Yeah, they do that,” said Burt.
“We did not ask for the bread!” declared Darak.
The Kobold finally set down his menu. “All right? So? The bread’s free! What about it?”
Izek moved in a blur. The bread in the Goblin’s hand disappeared with a sound like a log going through a sawmill, and a similar spray of dust and debris.
“Hold on!” said Freggi.
Izek froze with his hand just above the breadbasket.
“How can this be?” Freggi demanded. “If they gave free bread to everyone, that would be all people ate!”
“People will come and stand in line just for this bread!” said Pogrit.
“We do not need to buy food at all!” suggested Guglug. “We will just eat this bread.”
“No, that’s…” Burt shook his head. “You only get the bread because you’re going to buy other food.”
“Ahh.” Pogrit gave the other Shadowkin a sly nod. “That is how they entrap you.”
The Goblins and Slaugh nodded back sagely. Darak and Asherzu looked less certain. But all of them reached for the basket.
“If I may.” Asherzu raised a glass of ruby wine after the bread was little more than crumbs. “Today, we gather to honor Mrs. Hrurk. These are hard times on the Wall, but her analysis has kept our firm strong! And as the city mourns its king—”
“To a degree,” muttered Burt.
“We can take courage from our strength!” The chieftain cast a warning glance at Burt. “So I honor you, Feista Hrurk, for your keen insight! And I honor all of you for your hard work. Because of your efforts, Warg Inc. is mighty, and grows in strength and market capitalization by the day!”
They drank. Their celebration was muted at first, but wine and ale loosened their tongues, and soon much of the table was sharing old battle stories and laughing.
Halfway through her wine, Feista noticed that Asherzu and Burt were having a conversation of their own. They spoke without directly looking at one another, in tones so quiet and low most of the rest of the table couldn’t hear it. But Feista’s ears were to sound what a spyglass was to sight, and she couldn’t have avoided eavesdropping at this distance had she wanted to.
“And you are sure we should forego the Naga’s salute?” Asherzu muttered to the Kobold.
“Gorm thinks the king’s death is a ruse,” Burt said.
“To what end?” asked the Orcess.
“The bard thinks the Golden Dawn are a bunch of crooks. More so than other gold-hounds. Specific ones. And everybody thinks the king went down there for some sort of mischief. They aren’t sure what it is, but it’s like the old saying: an Ogre has two fists, so when the first one hits you, you know the second ain’t far off.”
“And so for now he wishes us to play along and try to avoid speaking ill of the king,” said the chieftain.
“Yeah. And he gave us the packet. Just in case.”
“Just in case.” Asherzu nodded and glanced at Mrs. Hrurk, prompting the Gnoll to feign interest in Izek’s war stories. The rest of the table listened with delight to the old Goblin’s tale of an elaborate headdress that got caught on a passing adventurer’s saddle.
“And if the strap had not broken, my neck would have,” Izek told them. “Since that day, I never wear a headdress!”
The table’s laughter was cut short when their waiter returned with a slight clearing of his throat. “Ahm, so sorry to disturb you. Would you please lower your voices a little? A few guests have complained, and given the state of the kingdom and the king’s uncertain fate…”
Feista cleared her throat when it became clear that the Scribkin intended to leave the rest of his sentence unspoken. “Oh, uh… a thousand pardons,” she said.
“Thank you,” said the Gnome. He gave a toothy smile, and the waxed tips of his pointed black mustache rose up like a pair of spears. “Now, have we decided on our order? Perhaps a round of appetizers?”
“What is an ‘appetizer?’” asked Guglug, her frog-like features twisted in a confused scowl.
“It’s a small dish served before the meal,” said the waiter.
“Is that not what this bread was?” asked Freggi.
“How much food is to be eaten before the food arrives?” said Pogrit.
Burt slapped a paw over his forehead.
“It, ahm, helps stimulate the appetite,” suggested the waiter.
“I am already hungry,” said Darak.
“Why else would we have come?” said Pogrit.
“We’ll skip the appetizers,” Feista told the waiter. “I’ll have the braised haardvark.”
The Scribkin gave her a grateful smile and took the rest of their orders. Conversation was slow to resume after he left.
