Read Online Sethra Lavode (Viscount of Adrilankha) by Steven Brust - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steven Brust
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case.”
“Several of them, to my certain knowledge.”
“Recommend one, then.”
“I shall be glad to do so, Captain.”
“Well?”
“There is a sorcerer who works on the Street of the Candlemakers who is, I’m told, acquainted with many places around the Empire. You perceive, what determines the value of such a sorcerer is how many places he knows.”
“Why should this be?”
“I am not a sorcerer, my lord, but I am told that it requires a good knowledge of the landscape in order to safely teleport.”
“Well, I am no sorcerer either, but that seems reasonable.”
“Therefore, the more places a sorcerer knows, the closer he is likely to be able to place you near to your destination.”
“Yes, I understand. Where on the Street of the Candlemakers?”
“Facing directly on the market circle near Ash Street. Number thirty-three or thirty-four, I believe. I know that it is next to a hatter, because I went there to get my hat blocked.”
“And permit me to say, Ensign, that the hatter did a good job of work. I shall have to keep him in mind, as my own hat is soon going to require the same treatment.”
“He uses boiling water, Captain.”
“Boiling water?”
“To make steam, and the steam softens the hat, and this permits him to reshape it. And then he slides a certain amount of wire inside the fabric around the brim, so that it holds its shape, and then stitches the fabric together over the wire.”
“Wire? Inside the fabric?”
“As I have had the honor to tell you, Captain.”
Khaavren removed his hat and studied it for a moment, then shrugged and clapped it down firmly on his head. “I believe I will stay with what I know,” he said. “But, certainly, I thank you for the information.”
“You are most welcome, Captain. And may I permit myself to wish you a pleasant and successful journey?”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
Khaavren then made his way to the stables, where he called upon his stable-boy to have a horse saddled, which task was performed promptly (the confusion over Imperial horses being stabled with Khaavren’s and Daro’s personal horses having been settled someweeks before). This being done, the stable-boy assisted him to mount, after which he set out through the manor gates and so onto the street.
After the inevitable delay required to ride across the city, he found himself outside of the thin wooden door, painted green, of a shop next to a hatter’s. Upon entering, he was greeted by a gentleman who appeared to be a Jhegaala. On the floor was a large circle crisscrossed with many lines, and on the walls were several maps of different parts of the Empire with dozens of small red circles drawn on them. The opposite wall was filled with a single map of the entire Empire—or, to be precise, the area that had been the entire Empire before the Disaster.
The Jhegaala was dressed in simple breeches, with a sort of thin singlet over a plain shirt with thin sleeves. He had rings on two of his fingers, a necklace containing a small pendant or amulet, and shoes without buckles. When Khaavren entered, he had been reading a book (Khaavren, always the curious Tiassa, looked for the title but failed to see it), which he now put down as he rose and bowed. “I wish you a good day, my lord, and I bid you welcome. Did you wish to arrange a teleport?”
Khaavren returned the salute and said, “You are exactly right, sir. I require a teleport for myself and my lady, for to-morrow evening.”
The other bowed. “Very good, my lord. Where would you like to go?”
“Are you familiar with the county of Southmoor?”
The Jhegaala frowned. “If Your Lordship would do me the kindness to point it out on the map.”
“I will do so at once.”
“So much the better.”
Khaavren did so, and at once the Jhegaala said, “Ah! Yes! So, then, you are going to Castle Black?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
“I have several requests for such, although the others did not identify the
“Several of them, to my certain knowledge.”
“Recommend one, then.”
“I shall be glad to do so, Captain.”
“Well?”
“There is a sorcerer who works on the Street of the Candlemakers who is, I’m told, acquainted with many places around the Empire. You perceive, what determines the value of such a sorcerer is how many places he knows.”
“Why should this be?”
“I am not a sorcerer, my lord, but I am told that it requires a good knowledge of the landscape in order to safely teleport.”
“Well, I am no sorcerer either, but that seems reasonable.”
“Therefore, the more places a sorcerer knows, the closer he is likely to be able to place you near to your destination.”
“Yes, I understand. Where on the Street of the Candlemakers?”
“Facing directly on the market circle near Ash Street. Number thirty-three or thirty-four, I believe. I know that it is next to a hatter, because I went there to get my hat blocked.”
“And permit me to say, Ensign, that the hatter did a good job of work. I shall have to keep him in mind, as my own hat is soon going to require the same treatment.”
“He uses boiling water, Captain.”
“Boiling water?”
“To make steam, and the steam softens the hat, and this permits him to reshape it. And then he slides a certain amount of wire inside the fabric around the brim, so that it holds its shape, and then stitches the fabric together over the wire.”
“Wire? Inside the fabric?”
“As I have had the honor to tell you, Captain.”
Khaavren removed his hat and studied it for a moment, then shrugged and clapped it down firmly on his head. “I believe I will stay with what I know,” he said. “But, certainly, I thank you for the information.”
“You are most welcome, Captain. And may I permit myself to wish you a pleasant and successful journey?”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
Khaavren then made his way to the stables, where he called upon his stable-boy to have a horse saddled, which task was performed promptly (the confusion over Imperial horses being stabled with Khaavren’s and Daro’s personal horses having been settled someweeks before). This being done, the stable-boy assisted him to mount, after which he set out through the manor gates and so onto the street.
After the inevitable delay required to ride across the city, he found himself outside of the thin wooden door, painted green, of a shop next to a hatter’s. Upon entering, he was greeted by a gentleman who appeared to be a Jhegaala. On the floor was a large circle crisscrossed with many lines, and on the walls were several maps of different parts of the Empire with dozens of small red circles drawn on them. The opposite wall was filled with a single map of the entire Empire—or, to be precise, the area that had been the entire Empire before the Disaster.
The Jhegaala was dressed in simple breeches, with a sort of thin singlet over a plain shirt with thin sleeves. He had rings on two of his fingers, a necklace containing a small pendant or amulet, and shoes without buckles. When Khaavren entered, he had been reading a book (Khaavren, always the curious Tiassa, looked for the title but failed to see it), which he now put down as he rose and bowed. “I wish you a good day, my lord, and I bid you welcome. Did you wish to arrange a teleport?”
Khaavren returned the salute and said, “You are exactly right, sir. I require a teleport for myself and my lady, for to-morrow evening.”
The other bowed. “Very good, my lord. Where would you like to go?”
“Are you familiar with the county of Southmoor?”
The Jhegaala frowned. “If Your Lordship would do me the kindness to point it out on the map.”
“I will do so at once.”
“So much the better.”
Khaavren did so, and at once the Jhegaala said, “Ah! Yes! So, then, you are going to Castle Black?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
“I have several requests for such, although the others did not identify the
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