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Cai grinned. "It's true, lass. Whatever your idealistic visions might be," he said, winking at Dafydd. "Men sit in these chairs at Beltane and Samhain. Oft times it's a marvel that anything gets settled here. But your da has a way."
"What is his magic?"
"Magic? My brother is as human as the rest."
"But any man who can envision this"--my hand caressed the Table--"and make it a reality..."
"Exactly, lass. I never said he was not special. Any other questions?"
I had many, but did not wish to detain him from his work any longer.
I shook my head and thanked him.
"I am always at your service, lass. And Dafydd's. Never hesitate to ask."
We regarded each other for what seemed a long time. Then Cai's gaze shifted to the Round Table behind me.
"Seat of Peril," Cai said with a chuckle. "I dare say, you are a bard in the rough, lad."
Dafydd's cheeks reddened, as Cai patted his shoulder.
Still grinning, the Seneschal left, reminding us to close the shutter.
I turned to the Round Table again, extending my arms as though to embrace my father's dream.
A wicked thought possessed me. I stroked the edge of the Table where the name would be.
"You said no living man would sit here, Dafydd. I'm not a man."