Read Online Morlock Night by K.W. Jeter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: K.W. Jeter
Tags: Science-Fiction, Fantasy
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Ambrose â it's still Ambrose, isn't it? â of course not. Here, do try some of the Latour." The one called Mer denne took one of the unused wine glasses above his plate, poured the lustrous red vintage into it, and extended it across the restaurant's snowy-white damask.
  "Thank you." Ambrose held the glass to the light, then brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, then at last drank of it, rolling the wine on his tongue to savour it fully. "Quite pleasant," he said after a moment's reflection. "But the vintners really should, have asked for a priest's blessing on that old graveyard before they planted their vines in it. The unconsecrated bones in the soil leave, I fear, a bitter aftertaste in the mouth."
  "Actually," said Merdenne with a thin smile, "that's the thing I like most about this wine."
  Ambrose half-smiled back. " De gustibus non disputandum . Not your usual sort of refreshment anyway, is it? You were fond of a rather different intoxicant, I be lieve, when you were a counsellor to the great Suleiman."
  Across the width of the restaurant, one waiter nudged another in the ribs and pointed at the two men. "Look at em," he whispered to his colleague. "Just as like as two eggs in the same nest!" The other nodded in sage acknowl edgment. "Those are what are called identicable twins," he pronounced with grave authority.
  Merdenne took a swallow from his own glass. "One must conform," he said, "to the vices of the time and place one finds one's self in. I'm afraid this England of which you're so fond isn't quite civilised enough yet to view the open smoking of opium without at least a small measure of scandal. Though I imagine the scandal lies more in the lower class associations of the habit, rather than in any perceived peril in the drug itself. How tiresome these little minds are, with their endless preoccupations about classes, places and positions! Won't you be glad to see them all wiped away at last?"
  "Twins or no," said the first waiter, "there's something about the sight of the two of em sitting together that fair makes me blood creep! What do you suppose they could ever be talking about?"
  "They might," said Ambrose coolly, "not be wiped away as easily as you fancy."
  "Come, come, Ambrose. Don't delude yourself. In the past, our conflicts have been like⦠like chess games, so to speak. Yes, exactly, games of chess. But in this one, your king is already forfeited to me. Check and mate. The game is over. Nothing is left but the clearing of the pieces from the board."
  "Perhaps, perhaps⦠You speak of chess. I would imag ine you've found few opponents hereabouts worthy of your passion for that game!" Ambrose sipped at his wine, letting his eyes wander over the crowded restaurant. The noise of many conversations, the clink of silverware on china, all washed against the two of them.
  "Damn, but you're right enough about that," said Mer denne fervently. "This is a nation of whist players, and other beastly card games which serve as nothing more than a pretext for polite gabbling at the opposite sex!"
  "Not at all the sort of chess-playing opportunities you had when you were known as Ibrahim, I suppose."
  "Nothing like," said Merdenne. "Even Suleiman himself was an avid player, though inclined not to value his pawns sufficiently. How I miss those days! Studying the chessboard through a haze of opium smoke, as if one were an eagle floating miles above the desert, scrutinising the affairs of men⦠master of allâ¦" He lapsed into a silent reverie.
  "See here, Merdenne. I'll stand you a game."
  "Would you really?" His eyes brightened. "That's beastly good of you, Merlin â pardon, I mean Ambrose. Consider ing that you've lost just about everything on the outs."
  Ambrose cleared the bottle of Latour and the wine glasses from the centre of the table. From his coat
  "Thank you." Ambrose held the glass to the light, then brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, then at last drank of it, rolling the wine on his tongue to savour it fully. "Quite pleasant," he said after a moment's reflection. "But the vintners really should, have asked for a priest's blessing on that old graveyard before they planted their vines in it. The unconsecrated bones in the soil leave, I fear, a bitter aftertaste in the mouth."
  "Actually," said Merdenne with a thin smile, "that's the thing I like most about this wine."
  Ambrose half-smiled back. " De gustibus non disputandum . Not your usual sort of refreshment anyway, is it? You were fond of a rather different intoxicant, I be lieve, when you were a counsellor to the great Suleiman."
  Across the width of the restaurant, one waiter nudged another in the ribs and pointed at the two men. "Look at em," he whispered to his colleague. "Just as like as two eggs in the same nest!" The other nodded in sage acknowl edgment. "Those are what are called identicable twins," he pronounced with grave authority.
  Merdenne took a swallow from his own glass. "One must conform," he said, "to the vices of the time and place one finds one's self in. I'm afraid this England of which you're so fond isn't quite civilised enough yet to view the open smoking of opium without at least a small measure of scandal. Though I imagine the scandal lies more in the lower class associations of the habit, rather than in any perceived peril in the drug itself. How tiresome these little minds are, with their endless preoccupations about classes, places and positions! Won't you be glad to see them all wiped away at last?"
  "Twins or no," said the first waiter, "there's something about the sight of the two of em sitting together that fair makes me blood creep! What do you suppose they could ever be talking about?"
  "They might," said Ambrose coolly, "not be wiped away as easily as you fancy."
  "Come, come, Ambrose. Don't delude yourself. In the past, our conflicts have been like⦠like chess games, so to speak. Yes, exactly, games of chess. But in this one, your king is already forfeited to me. Check and mate. The game is over. Nothing is left but the clearing of the pieces from the board."
  "Perhaps, perhaps⦠You speak of chess. I would imag ine you've found few opponents hereabouts worthy of your passion for that game!" Ambrose sipped at his wine, letting his eyes wander over the crowded restaurant. The noise of many conversations, the clink of silverware on china, all washed against the two of them.
  "Damn, but you're right enough about that," said Mer denne fervently. "This is a nation of whist players, and other beastly card games which serve as nothing more than a pretext for polite gabbling at the opposite sex!"
  "Not at all the sort of chess-playing opportunities you had when you were known as Ibrahim, I suppose."
  "Nothing like," said Merdenne. "Even Suleiman himself was an avid player, though inclined not to value his pawns sufficiently. How I miss those days! Studying the chessboard through a haze of opium smoke, as if one were an eagle floating miles above the desert, scrutinising the affairs of men⦠master of allâ¦" He lapsed into a silent reverie.
  "See here, Merdenne. I'll stand you a game."
  "Would you really?" His eyes brightened. "That's beastly good of you, Merlin â pardon, I mean Ambrose. Consider ing that you've lost just about everything on the outs."
  Ambrose cleared the bottle of Latour and the wine glasses from the centre of the table. From his coat
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