Anrel supposed it was the result of Quandish cookery. Whatever its origins, the meal was entirely satisfactory. Of course, Anrel knew his standards might well be lower than they once were; it had been half a year since he had regularly eaten well. Nivain Lir and her daughters had been decent cooks but could not afford the best ingredients, and in the Pensioners’ Quarter anything that one could keep down was considered good enough. When the edge had been taken off his appetite and he was content to nibble a little here and there, rather than devouring everything on his plate, Anrel looked up and said, “It’s most generous of you to make me welcome in this fashion, my lord.” “Ah, it’s nothing, I assure you.” “On the contrary, it was quite presumptuous of me to arrive here unheralded. We barely know each other, and we have almost nothing in common.” “Oh, I think you misjudge. I should say we have several similarities. After all, when we first met, were we not both hoping to convince Lord Allutar not to put young Urunar Kazien to death?”
