Read Online Pool of Radiance by James M. Ward, Jane Cooper Hong - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James M. Ward, Jane Cooper Hong
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happy. Ren gripped the shield firmly, then easily ripped the leather handles from it. Then he laid the cook’s big oak cutting board on top of it, followed by a linen cloth over the board. “Now help me load this thing with food, and grab those two tankards I just brought in.”
“Ya big galoot, ya don’t think you’re gonna lift that mass of metal an’ grub by yerself, do ya?”
“I most certainly am,” said Ren.
“Ha!” the cook blurted out after adding the pitchers from the bar to the tray. “I’ll part with a silver if that don’t weigh more than me.”
“I hope it does,” said Ren, smiling enigmatically. “Now, open the door for me, please.”
Ren dragged the shield off the counter and balanced it on his right hand. The cook gasped as he got an indication for the first time of Ren’s strength. There were few men as tall as Ren. The cook was sure by the way Ren had to duck under the doorway every time he came into the kitchen that he must be nearly six and a half feet tall. But he had never realized what kind of brawn the big man hid under his sloppy tunic. As Ren hoisted the huge war shield and the many pounds of metal on top of it, his muscles bulged till the loose-fitting tunic pulled tight around his arm, shoulder, and back. He used his left hand to balance the big tray as he stepped out into the crowded inn. The cook followed Ren to the door, shaking his head and reminding himself that he never wanted to get in a fight with this quiet man.
No one in the main hall thought anything of Ren bringing in the tray. None could see all the metal on top. He moved easily through the crowd, stopping at the table where the three fighters were sitting. The big blonde who’d given the order was the first to notice him.
She smiled coyly as he approached and began to tease him about his tardiness. “It’s about time you brought our food. I was beginning to think I’d have to go on a town-council expedition to find you and our grub. The delay could affect your tip, big fellow.”
The brunette slapped the shoulder of the speaker. “Jensena, I know the tip you have in mind, but he’s so smelly, it’d take you a week to get clean.” All three laughed at the jest. Ren merely cocked his head and raised his eyebrows slightly.
The leader of the three, the woman with the salt-and-pepper hair, glanced at Ren over the rim of her cup. “I expect he could bathe in a hurry if he thought it would get him anywhere. Not only that, I’d wager he could teach you both a thing or two. After all, he’s nothing but a tavern tart.” They all broke into peals of laughter. Ren knew he must act quickly or he’d miss his opportunity.
“Wager away, ma’am. I wager your bill for the night against an equal sum that you ladies can’t even do ten minutes’ worth of the work that I do.”
Throughout the course of the afternoon, the three had racked up a good-sized bill. They answered together without hesitation: “You’re on!”
From his post at the doorway, the cook smiled, knowing what was coming next. That Ren was a bold rascal. He’d have to hand him that.
“Here,” said Ren, holding the tray forward. “Just see if you can carry this tray and everything on it from here to the bar without dropping it. That should be no problem for any of you ladiesassuming, of course, that you’re sober.”
Ren eased the tray down onto the table. Even people at the other end of the bar could hear the groan of the wood as the table bowed under the weight of the huge shield. The three women were now able to see the full metal pitchers of ale, the pewter tableware, platters, and trenchers, and food enough to feed an army. They also spotted the heavy war shield.
The brunette, Gwen, recognized the trick Ren had played on them. Purse-lipped, she started rummaging through a pouch on her belt, looking for some coins to pay the bill and the bet. But her friends weren’t so easily daunted.
“Jensena, you’re the strongest. Give it
“Ya big galoot, ya don’t think you’re gonna lift that mass of metal an’ grub by yerself, do ya?”
“I most certainly am,” said Ren.
“Ha!” the cook blurted out after adding the pitchers from the bar to the tray. “I’ll part with a silver if that don’t weigh more than me.”
“I hope it does,” said Ren, smiling enigmatically. “Now, open the door for me, please.”
Ren dragged the shield off the counter and balanced it on his right hand. The cook gasped as he got an indication for the first time of Ren’s strength. There were few men as tall as Ren. The cook was sure by the way Ren had to duck under the doorway every time he came into the kitchen that he must be nearly six and a half feet tall. But he had never realized what kind of brawn the big man hid under his sloppy tunic. As Ren hoisted the huge war shield and the many pounds of metal on top of it, his muscles bulged till the loose-fitting tunic pulled tight around his arm, shoulder, and back. He used his left hand to balance the big tray as he stepped out into the crowded inn. The cook followed Ren to the door, shaking his head and reminding himself that he never wanted to get in a fight with this quiet man.
No one in the main hall thought anything of Ren bringing in the tray. None could see all the metal on top. He moved easily through the crowd, stopping at the table where the three fighters were sitting. The big blonde who’d given the order was the first to notice him.
She smiled coyly as he approached and began to tease him about his tardiness. “It’s about time you brought our food. I was beginning to think I’d have to go on a town-council expedition to find you and our grub. The delay could affect your tip, big fellow.”
The brunette slapped the shoulder of the speaker. “Jensena, I know the tip you have in mind, but he’s so smelly, it’d take you a week to get clean.” All three laughed at the jest. Ren merely cocked his head and raised his eyebrows slightly.
The leader of the three, the woman with the salt-and-pepper hair, glanced at Ren over the rim of her cup. “I expect he could bathe in a hurry if he thought it would get him anywhere. Not only that, I’d wager he could teach you both a thing or two. After all, he’s nothing but a tavern tart.” They all broke into peals of laughter. Ren knew he must act quickly or he’d miss his opportunity.
“Wager away, ma’am. I wager your bill for the night against an equal sum that you ladies can’t even do ten minutes’ worth of the work that I do.”
Throughout the course of the afternoon, the three had racked up a good-sized bill. They answered together without hesitation: “You’re on!”
From his post at the doorway, the cook smiled, knowing what was coming next. That Ren was a bold rascal. He’d have to hand him that.
“Here,” said Ren, holding the tray forward. “Just see if you can carry this tray and everything on it from here to the bar without dropping it. That should be no problem for any of you ladiesassuming, of course, that you’re sober.”
Ren eased the tray down onto the table. Even people at the other end of the bar could hear the groan of the wood as the table bowed under the weight of the huge shield. The three women were now able to see the full metal pitchers of ale, the pewter tableware, platters, and trenchers, and food enough to feed an army. They also spotted the heavy war shield.
The brunette, Gwen, recognized the trick Ren had played on them. Purse-lipped, she started rummaging through a pouch on her belt, looking for some coins to pay the bill and the bet. But her friends weren’t so easily daunted.
“Jensena, you’re the strongest. Give it
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