I ignored her.
“Oh, yes. They go way back.”
“Well, poop, why didn’t anyone tell me it was all just a display?” I grumbled to myself as I nodded good-night to Claude before heading out into the soft purple haze of the falling evening.
My talk with Farrell was anything but warm and fuzzy, but it left me feeling hopeful, if a bit naïve about what everyone else knew. I formulated a plan of attack as I walked quickly through the tent city, greeting people whom I’d come to know over the past ten days, turning down invitations to dinner, ale tasting, a singalong of medieval ditties, and the chance to see if I could French-kiss a jouster for five minutes straight without passing out (that offer came from the Norwegians). It struck me as I was wending my way in and out of the pools of light arou
