“I’ll tell you all about it over supper,” I said, and would say no more till we reached the shelter of the tavern, and got a bench in the corner with our backs to the wall.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

I HAD been right about Dinias’ poverty. Even in the smoky murk of the tavern’s crowded room I could see the threadbare state of his clothes, and sense the air half of resentment, half of eagerness, with which he watched while I ordered food and a jug of their best wine. While it was coming I excused myself and had a quick word aside with Cadal.

“I may get some of the facts we want from him. In any case I thought it better to stick to him—I’d rather he came under my eye for the moment. The odds are he’ll be drunk enough by moonrise to be harmless, and I’ll either get him bedded down safe with a girl, or if he’s past it I’ll see him home on my way to the nunnery. If I don’t look like getting out of here by moonrise, get over yourself to the gate on the towpath to meet my mother. You know our story. Tell her I’m coming, but I fell in with my cousin Dinias and have to get rid of him first. She’ll understand. Now get yourself some food.”

“Watch your step, I would, Merlin. Your cousin, did you say? Proper daisy he is, and no mistake. He doesn’t like you.”

I laughed. “You think that’s news? It’s mutual.”

“Oh. Well, as long as you watch it.”

“I’ll do that.”

Dinias’ manners were still good enough to make him wait till I had dismissed Cadal and sat down to pour the wine. He had been right about the food; the pie they brought us was stuffed full of beef and oysters in a thick, steaming gravy, and though the bread was made from barley meal it was fresh. The cheese was not, and was excellent. The tavern’s other wares seemed to match the food; from time to time one got a glimpse of them as a girl peered giggling in through a curtained door, and some man put his cup down and hurried after her. From the way Dinias’ eyes lingered on the curtain even while he ate, I thought I might have little difficulty in getting rid of him safely once I had the information I wanted.

I waited until he was halfway through his pie before I started asking questions. I hardly liked to wait longer for, from the way he reached for the wine jug almost—in spite of his hunger—between every mouthful, I was afraid that if I left it too long he would not be clear-headed enough to tell me what I wanted.