Iorrjaer

Chapter 31

At the sign of the first light of the moon, Allin got up onto the platform that had been quickly constructed behind Victor's table. It was wobbly and unsteady, but he graciously maneuvered himself with careful steps that were wide for balance. He had in his hand a tapered cone that once he was in position, lifted to his mouth and tested its amplification. On the side, he tapped on some runes that seemed to adjust the pitch and octave of his voice. Once he was satisfied with its projection, he called for attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Fellow townsfolk and honoured guests and adventurers! Welcome! Tonight, marks a special occasion, this is our one-hundred and thirty sixth annual harvest. No small feat, I can assure you. For this joyous occasion and to celebrate our guests, we have something very special planned. As you can see, we have many mouths to feed and plenty of food and ale, but who should go first? We can't have a free for all, so we have decided on a friendly competition. Each table will assign a representative, a leader if you will to stand and compete for the privilege of getting their table a turn to go up and help themselves to our amazing and delicious spread of food. Our goal is to keep it fair and so some greedy tables don't take too much."

Laughter from the tables rose and cheers followed.

Yophiel, who had been sitting back grumpily, staring at Victor's table with tight lips and clenched fists, now sat forward with a shine in her eyes.

"I say that the pale elf leads for us." She relished the surprised looks. "It's important that we succeed. We can't let Victor's table win. They put us here to keep us away. It's important that we show them who we are. That we won't be so easily beaten."

"You're the one that put us at the table the furthest away." Malka said. His patience for Yophiel's contradicting behaviour was all but spent. She sighed and leered at him.

"Whatever. That was before, this is now. We can't let them control us."

"Before?" Malka asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yophiel still did not like his constant knowing smile and tone of voice. "That's right. Before I knew who they really were. Before,"

"Before they denied you at their table?" Sorâth asked, knowingly. He lowered his gaze down from where he had been looking to meet Yophiel's annoyed stare.

Yophiel paused and stared at him with her mouth open. Her eyes, at the verge of tears, betrayed her. She turned away from him and folded her arms across her chest. "How...?"

"You still think us blind?" Sorâth asked. "You think we do not see what you do or hear your words. You think we are foolish and cannot remember your actions."

She stared at him for a long silence and then pushed herself back and stood. "Fine! I'll do it myself. Is that what you want? Is that what you are getting at? Are you saying that you won't do it because of me? Fine!"

She turned and made her way towards Victor's table. Häsmæl started to get up to call after her and then follow but Sorâth stopped him. "Let her go. She is beginning to understand that there are consequences to her actions."

"I wonder," Malka said. "Our spores failed. Or were dispelled. She hasn't claimed her position or rank, but she has been acting more superior."

"Fear?"

"That the larva did not die. It's still influencing her and has somehow beaten out the influence that she clung to for so long."

Sorâth glanced over to Häsmæl, who had his nose in the air. It flared rhythmically as if he was onto a scent that he could not place. The orc caught his glance and met it. He shrugged and said in orcish: "Something is not right. The meat...is off. Not bad. Off..."