Raik's brows creased when he walked toward the high table, trying to find what he sensed. The tables stood where they always were. Linen cloth covered them. The food was bountiful. He sensed an air of tension around the men standing near the lower tables. 'Twas only when Edulf nudged his arm and looked up at the rafters that Raik followed his gaze. "Do my eyes deceive me? Were not the rafters a mottled brown last eve?" Ranald stopped in mid-stride. Cormac did an awkward sidestep to keep from stumbling into his back. "Shite, man! I near knocked you down." Ranald shrugged, still eyeing the rafters. "Ye see aright. Hm. They're now a rich brown." "Aye. How could that be accomplished in but one day?" Raik's gaze returned to the men waiting to sit. Paint splotches dotted their heads, their breeches and shirts, though they had scrubbed their faces and hands clean. He smiled and nodded his approval. "You should have seen them, milord," the slinger Alfred said. "It was the number of men that did it.
