Cefwyn had said there was no need of formality.  As we did in the first days, the message had said, but they had gotten in from their ride just at sunset, and had to wash, and dress in clothes fit for the king's supper table.

Tristen wore dark brown and Uwen wore green, no badges at all of Ynefel's dark repute (which he escaped whenever he could) and this time no weight of mail or defense of weapons.  The guards - there were always at least four at the king's private chambers, besides the score up and down the hall outside - knew them and let them in without their having to say a word.

"The lord of Ynefel and Althalen," the guard informed a hurrying page, and the page bowed and led them quickly down the reception hall to the smaller banquet hall - past Annas, hurrying about as usual, then past Idrys, who was never far from the king.  Idrys had a seemingly lazy attention for them, as sharp-edged as ever - Idrys missed nothing at all, and seemed uncommonly amused.

The page showed them into the hall.  Gratefully, it was not to be one of those state affairs, with tables reaching from the front of the hall to the back, in double rows, a din of voices and lute players in which no one could hear what happened a table away: those affairs could could never be arranged in a single day.  The invitation tonight had been a surprise, and set in the Blue Hall, which was actually mostly gilt, with only touches of blue in the ceiling.  Tristen had been here once before, just after the oath-taking, in what Cefwyn called the coziest hall in the king's apartments.

There was Emuin looking scrubbed and like his old self; and Ninevrise was talking freely with Efanor, who was smiling, tonight, and without the doleful priest who often came with him.  Even the pages were those who had attended Cefwyn in Amefel and whom he had kept in service, though other lords had besieged the throne with offers of eligible sons and nephews.

Best of all, Cefwyn came and clapped him on the shoulder, bidding him welcome; and for a few distracted moments Cefwyn talked to him about the weather and the wedding and the harvest.

"I hear the barley is exceptional," Tristen said, and Cefwyn gave him a wondering look.

"Uwen told me today," he confessed, and Cefwyn laughed.

"It is a fine harvest," Cefwyn said.  "Come, come, are you too warm with that cloak?  Boy! - Gods, they've heated the hall like a forge."

Tristen surrendered his cloak.  Uwen had deserted him for the outer hall and would have his supper there, Tristen was sure, where Uwen would be far more comfortable with the Ivanim guard, and with Idrys' lieutenant, than among lords.