"Thankee for the warning," he said gravely, and then they were down the stairs, and surrounded by well-wishers, and he let go of her arm to embrace Bert, and the moment was gone. In truth, he was glad he'd had that time alone with her to fortify himself. It had given him time to steady himself, even with the new turbulence thrown up in his mind, and to draw the mask back on. Now, surrounded by those he knew well and those who were all but strangers as they swept on towards the smaller hall, he could even smile.
He quickly lost track of Nariko in the press of people, and didn't search too hard for her. He was looking for others - those three men with the lumpy shapes of guns under their arms, and any who might have come with them. Through the growing crowd of people wanting to shake his hand or clap him on the back, though, it was hard to see. He marked one of them across the room, a dark-skinned man with close-cropped hair, but lost track of him again as the crowds began to filter back into the Hall of Grandfathers. Under the carved eyes of his ancestors, he took his seat at the high table, where his father had once sat. And then there was the seat beside him, which had stood empty for years, which was still, in his mind, his mother's seat. For the first time in his rule, it would be filled. That thought was a heavy one, and yet, at the same time, it had a certain rightness to it. He looked up at the tapestry of Arthur Eld, and felt for the first time the quiet certainty that this was as it should be.
When Nariko would join him there, he was stony-faced as ever, but something in him had relaxed. He stood to greet her, kissing her on the cheek. This had the advantage of bringing his mouth close to her ear, so he could whisper "The dark man by the door, the fat man next to your cousin, and Henry Jacquard, ten seats on your left. Watch for them." Then he pulled away, smiling his usual flinty smile, and turned to watch as the last few ladies took their seat.
Speeches weren't his greatest strength. What he said was much the same as he'd said at every Fair-Day since returning to Gilead; wishing his guests well, expressing hope for peace, thanking them for attendance. The only sign that anything was different was towards the end of his little speech, when he added "And those who are guests among us, say thankee-sai for them, for they've come a long way to share at our table. And I thankee, every one, for making them welcome. And I thankee, too, for being here to witness one who's a guest no more. Nariko Deschain." He turned to her with a smile and a little nod. "We are bound together now, and what you do to her, I will take it as personal as if it were done to me. I bid you remember that, for all I know it comes strange after so long." For a moment, the whole full hall was silent under his scrutiny, then he nodded, just once, and sat back down.
"If you'd say a few words," he added to Nariko, under his breath, "now's the time."
fast-forwarding a bit because there's limited stuff to happen here.
He quickly lost track of Nariko in the press of people, and didn't search too hard for her. He was looking for others - those three men with the lumpy shapes of guns under their arms, and any who might have come with them. Through the growing crowd of people wanting to shake his hand or clap him on the back, though, it was hard to see. He marked one of them across the room, a dark-skinned man with close-cropped hair, but lost track of him again as the crowds began to filter back into the Hall of Grandfathers. Under the carved eyes of his ancestors, he took his seat at the high table, where his father had once sat. And then there was the seat beside him, which had stood empty for years, which was still, in his mind, his mother's seat. For the first time in his rule, it would be filled. That thought was a heavy one, and yet, at the same time, it had a certain rightness to it. He looked up at the tapestry of Arthur Eld, and felt for the first time the quiet certainty that this was as it should be.
When Nariko would join him there, he was stony-faced as ever, but something in him had relaxed. He stood to greet her, kissing her on the cheek. This had the advantage of bringing his mouth close to her ear, so he could whisper "The dark man by the door, the fat man next to your cousin, and Henry Jacquard, ten seats on your left. Watch for them." Then he pulled away, smiling his usual flinty smile, and turned to watch as the last few ladies took their seat.
Speeches weren't his greatest strength. What he said was much the same as he'd said at every Fair-Day since returning to Gilead; wishing his guests well, expressing hope for peace, thanking them for attendance. The only sign that anything was different was towards the end of his little speech, when he added "And those who are guests among us, say thankee-sai for them, for they've come a long way to share at our table. And I thankee, every one, for making them welcome. And I thankee, too, for being here to witness one who's a guest no more. Nariko Deschain." He turned to her with a smile and a little nod. "We are bound together now, and what you do to her, I will take it as personal as if it were done to me. I bid you remember that, for all I know it comes strange after so long." For a moment, the whole full hall was silent under his scrutiny, then he nodded, just once, and sat back down.
"If you'd say a few words," he added to Nariko, under his breath, "now's the time."