I stepped aside and put the wall to my back.

He nodded.

“I will do that.”

And he darted by.

I could feel my anger — born strength flowing into and back out of the Jewel. One part of me wanted to cut and slash and stab my way across the room, another wanted a more humane settlement with people so much smaller than myself; and a third and perhaps wiser part suggested that the little guys might not be such pushovers. So I waited to see how my door-opening feat impressed their spokesman.

Moments later, he returned, giving me wide berth.

“Bring the man his horse,” he said.

A sudden flurry of conversation occurred within the hall. I lowered my blade.

“My apologies,” said the one who had given the order. “We desire no trouble with the like of you. We will be foraging elsewhere. No hard feelings, I hope?”

The man in the leather apron had untethered Star and started in my direction. The revelers drew back to make way as he led my mount through the hall.

I sighed.

“I will just call it a day and forgive and forget,” I said.

The little man seized a flagon from a nearby table and passed it to me. Seeing my expression, he sipped from it himself.

“Join us in a drink, then?”

“Why not?” I said, and I took it and quaffed it as he did the same with the second one.

He gave a gentle belch and grinned.

“‘Tis a mighty small draught for a man of your size,” he said then. “Let me fetch you another, for the trail.”

It was a pleasant ale, and I was thirsty after my efforts.

“All right,” I said.

He called for more as Star was delivered to me.

“You can wrap the reins around this hook here,” he said, indicating a low projection near the doorway, “and he will be safe out of the way.”

I nodded and did that as the butcher withdrew. No one was staring at me any longer. A pitcher of the brew arrived and the little man refilled our flagons from it. One of the fiddlers struck up a fresh tune. Moments later, another joined him.