Percival bowed low to Feronantus. Cnán was not at all amused at how much pleasure she felt, studying his face. She did her best to make sure it didn’t show.

“Brother Percival, Brother Roger, welcome,” Feronantus said. “It is very good to see you both. Thank God for your safe arrival.”

Percival’s companion, Roger, was only a step behind him. “Truth be told, God was surprisingly unhelpful,” he began. Percival shot him an exasperated look. Side by side, the difference in height between the pair was not as great as she had thought at first; Percival had seemed larger because of his mount.

“We will listen to your stories while we sup,” Feronantus said, holding up a hand to stay further discourse between the two.

“And listen, and listen some more—and listen again!” cracked the big man who had been training Haakon.

Percival turned to look at the source of the jest, and un-feigned delight spread over his face. “Taran! I hoped you’d be here.”

“I heard you might come,” said Taran, “and knew you’d need whipping into shape before the contests begin.”

“Taran you know,” said Feronantus, “and this dark, splendid fellow is Raphael, our physician. There is much we might speak of greetings and tales, but, Roger and Percival, you have interrupted me en route to a meeting, one I’m assured is too important to be delayed.”

Eyes went to Cnán, then back to Feronantus.

“This is our swift-footed guide and messenger,” Feronantus said. “Her name is not important—for now.”

Taran muttered something about Bindings, and then wary interest chased the confusion out of their faces.