Chapter 10: Room and Board

"This must be a dream." Damaris sounds enthralled briefly before shaking herself, frowning.

"Too good to be true?" I shrug. "If it's a threat, I don't understand it."

She bites her lower lip, hesitates and I know what she's thinking. We need to close and bar this door just in case. Not let the others in, let them see. At the very least, warn them not to eat the food. Then again, if Graldor senses no magic outside the invisible shielding keeping us from moving forward, what's the harm?

"Too many unanswered questions," I say. "We should talk about this." "Agreed," Damaris says, mouth still open to go on, a breath drawn. Even as

something small and stealthy slips between us with a piercing squeal of delight.

I shouldn't be surprised Blossom streaks toward the table, feet padding on the woven carpet, throwing herself into a chair she instantly stands on, handfuls of food grasped and thrust into her mouth as she quickly mows through a selection of what smells like the most succulent and delicious dishes I've ever had the pleasure of considering for dinner.

Long before Damaris and I can do a thing to stop her.

No time to say a word or warn her, and frankly I don't want to anymore. Seeing her eat all that deliciousness sends jealous ripples through me. And yet I have just enough self-restraint left to hang on long enough for Blossom's impetuousness to show good or ill. I'm hoping, my stomach rumbling in need the rotten stew below didn't fill, that she's not about to fall over and die on us.

Blossom sees us staring and, for a heart stopping moment, she freezes. Her hands clutch into little claws, eyes widening as she struggles for breath and I know the worst has happened while she tumbles sideways into the chair and gasps her last.

Only to sit up again with a wink and goes back to eating all over again while Damaris swears next to me. We're firmly set aside when Vosh lumbers his way past and takes a seat at the end of the table, literally taking up the entire end with his bulk, reaching forward with his two massive arms and sweeping the majority of the food toward him.

"Hey!" Blossom tries to nab a plate of what looks like rare red meat slathered in gravy from his grasp but he's faster than he looks and she backs off, still chewing what's in her mouth.

Graldor and Fleur join us, the dwarf rubbing his hands together and hurrying to the table, but the elf hesitates and I find I'm with her, though my mouth continually waters in a way I'm sure will drown me if I don't swallow often enough.

"What is this place?" She shivers slightly, looks around, green eyes near glowing in the light of the dangling chandelier. It's a comfortable enough room with a large fireplace and tall ceilings, stone carved walls, candles in sconces topped by flames dancing their welcome to the table. All together a calm and happy kind of place, perfect for a satisfying meal. "Where does the food come from?"

I shake my head, bite the inside of my cheek, feel the compulsion to eat fade enough a scowl pulls my brows together. This is distinctly odd to find at the head of a prison block. Isn't it?

"Excellent question," Damaris says, though she's swaying toward the table. "Any guesses?"

"Magic," the elf shrugs. "What else?"

"I believe the more important question is why." I lock my knees to keep from giving in to the return of my stomach's siren call. It's so hard to watch Graldor slather what has to be fresh butter all over a giant, steaming tuber bursting from the skin and eat it with one giant bite. I can almost taste it on my own tongue and have to turn sideways and fix my gaze on Fleur to remain in one place.

"Could this be for the guards?" I doubt that question even as I speak it, wishful thinking from a starving man. And I am starving suddenly, as if I've never eaten before in my life. Just a snack, that's all I need. A few bites here and there. Nothing excessive. And there's so much available, though the others are eating it, all of it and if I don't hurry I won't get anything. I hear the sound of slurping and resist turning around, knowing the sight of Vosh inhaling everything in sight will break my resolve.

There has to be something wrong with this feeling I'm fighting.

"Then why did they have their own meal cooking below?" Damaris seems hesitant, swaying herself, swallows and shrugs. "The others are eating and show no ill for it." She's making an excuse, one I want to agree with. What's the harm? "And we can use the strength good food will give us, I'm sure. None of us has had a decent meal in days." She sounds perfectly happy talking herself into dinner.

Damaris seems to have made up her mind, smiling when she leaves us. I watch her go, longing in my heart, but Fleur continues to watch and pause and I can't bring myself to abandon her just yet.

"Is there something here, Fleur?" Can she sense it?

When she meets my gaze, I see her own hunger there and that makes me even more nervous, enough to cut the desire I have to fill myself to the brim on the bounty on the table.

"I fear we're missing something," she says and leaves me to go to the banquet despite her words.

Groaning, feet betraying me, I join her and help myself to a slab of fresh bread that Blossom fights me for, a pat of butter I manage to nab before Graldor liberates the entire crock, a slab of some kind of red meat and a scoop of fluffy potatoes that fit nicely together. And then I force myself to step back, back again, one more time, and out the door, into the fountain room. I perch on the edge and eat my meal, longing for more even after my stomach groans its fullness and holding myself in place until the urge passes.

It releases me suddenly, in a rush of exhale, almost as if someone decided I wasn't worth holding onto anymore. That alone raises my level of worry to insistent prodding. I need to get up, go talk to Damaris, the others. That food, that room, all of this. We're meant to stay here, on this side of the invisible barrier. And the lure of dinner, of offered rest, surely that's something meant to trap us, isn't it?

Before I can act on my train of thought, I waver, suddenly weighted down by the need to sleep, as I would after a big and satisfying meal. Only this grows more powerful, as the thirst had, I realize, as my hunger did, until I'm struggling with it. A deep lethargy falls over me, a need to lie down so powerful I sigh heavily and run one hand over my tired eyes to rub them open again. So strange this sensation of sudden weariness, washing away everything, including my need to get up and talk to the paladin and the elf. About what again? There was something bothering me, I just can't recall clearly what. Well, my memory is an issue, so likely it's nothing important after all.

Maybe I'll get up and find a bunk and have a lovely, long nap. I've earned it, I think.

Before I go, I turn and take a handful of fresh water, about to drink, splash some on my skin to jar me awake enough to make the walk across the room to the far door when my gaze falls on the feet of the statue and I freeze into shocked awareness.

Boots. It's wearing boots. And not just any footwear, no. However it's possible, the ones on its feet look just like mine.

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