Jeanne: Knifeblade

The thud - dull, and yet so different from the normal clatter of plates and goblets - of the knifepoint diving into the scarred wood caught Druce's attention and he glanced down the board in surprise. He saw Caleb wresting the blade from the table, startled irritation on the Jew's usually-peaceful face, and he scanned the faces surrounding the man idly. He had half guessed it was the woman again, and he found himself correct; she sat beside Caleb, an eager smile on her face as she waited for the answer to whatever question she had asked. Druce quirked a smile and looked for the boy that shadowed her, but though the Welshman guessed he was not far off, he could be spotted amid the press of bodies.

"No matter," he murmured, words barely audible even to himself. "I cannot think what she could do in a crowd like this."

He looked again at the knife Caleb continued to grip in his strong hand; the light flickered off it for a moment, yellow-orange and bright, and Druce was satisfied that the woman could do no harm if spy she was.

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