The young man was dressed in green leather, with a six-foot bow on his back and a short sword on either hip. He went to one knee as soon as he saw Christopher. “Get up,” Christopher said, annoyed at the formality. “Have some porridge.” That seemed like punishment enough for far worse crimes, so he put his annoyance aside. “You do not even know my name, and yet you offer me food from your table?” Christopher shrugged. “It’s not food. It’s porridge.” “I see your reputation for generosity is not unmerited.” He had to think about that one for a while before he decided the young man wasn’t mocking him. “So what’s your name, and why are you here?” “I am Ser D’Kan,” the young man announced, and then muttered under his breath, “and not for the porridge,” looking sourly at the bowl after his first spoonful.
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