‘Because something is wrong,’ Finli replied, firmly. ‘I can sense it. Something is going to happen.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Doc asked him.
A friend of Finli, one sitting on the other side of the big Merchant, a small, thin, wise-looking man, leaned over and said to Doc, ‘You may not know this of one-time captain Finli, but you are asking a soldier whether or not he can smell an ambush.’
The Elf Merchant’s words struck Doc like ice-water. There was going to be violence! It was going to come suddenly, from some unexpected direction, and it was going to be directed at the Thane.
But in what form? Doc took another look around, heart pounding, his senses heightened by the anticipation of murder. The soldiers, perhaps? Had they been bought off? There were four of them at each entrance, standing at attention. None so much as ventured a glance in the direction of the gallery. Doc made a mental note to see if any of their number looked to the Merchants for some sort of cue. The Merchants themselves? Doc huffed, looking them over. Worst thing any of them could so would be to fall on someone.
His observances were interrupted when the Thane set down the petition he had been reading, turned his gaze to Crasp, and said, ‘There is a matter you wish to discuss with me?’