“Ale will be fine, thank you.”
Another wave of the hand and more muttering resulted in the table boasting frothy ale in a pewter tankard and two empty tankards of the same material.
“Tch, tch,” Owain shook his head and teased, “if I were a seventh-level sorcerer, I’d have filled the tankards, too, to save me having to pour the ale.”
Myrddin scowled, waved his fingers, and muttered something in Old Welsh that Owain didn’t understand, then pushed a brimming tankard to the young man sitting across the table from him. “Let’s get down to serious business, my friend. As I said in Aberffraw, using the tactic of surprise is everything. Our problem is that you have no magic to wield, Owain, and they are two!”
“Could I not just lop Taliesin’s head off before he could react?”
“A fine idea, but l
