Read Online Ivory Lyre by Shirley Rousseau Murphy - Free Book Online Page A

his
customers are all so . . . they’re all healthy young
people.”
    Her brown eyes were steady, her face lean
and alert. She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s strange. That
shop is the only one in Dacia where you can get candles that aren’t
tallow. These candles are beeswax. Tallow candles make people
cough.” She smiled at him. “I bring the candlemaker beeswax, along
with my honey.”
    He looked at her closely. “All you get for
your wax and honey are a few candles in trade?”
    “Oh, no.” She dug in her pocket and brought
out a handful of small silver reppets with the face of Sardira on
each. Teb looked at the coins and studied her solemn, innocent
face. His good sense told him the candle shop was a meeting place.
He wished he knew Kiri better. He would go back there. If the shop was such a place, and if Garit was in Dacia, then Garit
might appear there sooner or later.
    Teb got no real information out of Kiri. She
was clever at fencing his questions. He was increasingly interested
in that skill.
    He left her at her door, meaning to talk
with her again soon. Meantime there were other answers he wanted.
He wanted to know more about the ugly games in the stadium, and
whether captured rebel soldiers were tortured as a part of the
entertainment. He wanted to know how many dark leaders came to
Dacia for the games.
     
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    “You have told me little of the stadium
games,” Teb said, watching Accacia. “We have nothing like them in
Thedria. There must be huge crowds, visiting dignitaries?” He
busied himself breaking bread, served with the first course, of
shellfish. “Are such games enjoyed often, or only on special
occasions?”
    “Oh, special occasions,” Accacia said
brightly. “When the leaders of the north come,” she said,
delicately forking a river clam from its shell. “When they come,
there is gaming at night in the stadium and feasting, and slaves
will dance in all the taverns.” Her golden-brown eyes were bright
with excitement.
    He sipped at the pale wine. “What kind of
contests? Men against men, or against animals?”
    “All kinds, giant cats battling wolves, or
both driven to attack chained prisoners.” Her color rose with
lust.
    “Prisoners?” he asked casually.
    “Enemies of the king, and of Dacia. There
are wild horses, too, battling with drugged bulls. Only not any
horses like yours, Prince Tebmund. Once,” Accacia said, tossing her
chestnut hair, “once there was a unicorn brought from the lands
beyond the sea, trussed up, and sold to King Sardira. It fought the
king’s brown guard lizards all alone until it bled to death.”
    Teb clenched his jaws, watching her,
sickened. Unicorns were rare creatures, never seen on these lands
anymore, though their pictures were painted on the walls of the
ancient sanctuaries. Rare and valued creatures—if one had any sense
of value. The king’s guard lizards were as big as horses, with
triple rows of razor-sharp teeth and claws, as long as his hand,
like sharp curved knives. The king had shown him two, his first day
in the palace, pointing them out from a slit window, where the
lizards paced in a small inner court.
    Accacia’s knee brushed his leg, and the
candlelight shone on her hair. Teb wanted to ask more about the
prisoners, the enemies of the king. But Abisha across from him
heard every word, though the pale, flabby man ate methodically with
no change of expression, except an occasional small frown at his
fiancée. Teb didn’t dare ask outright how many dark leaders came
here, or who they were.
    The king was watching him, too, whether
because of his questions about the games or because Accacia was
leaning too close to him, smiling too much, Teb wasn’t sure.
    But it was not only the king’s stare or
Accacia’s too warm attention that made Teb edgy. There was
something else, something beyond this table, a presence or a force
that stirred in him a sharp pang of unease. This was not the first
time he had