Read Online The Sunset Warrior - 01 by Eric Van Lustbader - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Van Lustbader
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deepened the gloom that had settled upon him. The Neer’s story had started it, he supposed, and he cursed her and then himself. What does it matter to me? he thought angrily. Not my concern.
A Bladesman wearing orange and brown wove his way towards them. He bowed to his Chondrin, whispered briefly in his ear. Nirren nodded and leaned over to Ronin. ‘Estrille’ he mouthed silently, rose, and made his excuses to the table.
In some way, although it might have been coincidental, his departure was the signal for even greater revelry. Tomand called to the adjacent tables and soon they were exchanging wine flagons and goblets, talking of inconsequential matters.
The seventh Spell expended itself and the eighth commenced. With it the Great Hall began to empty. Slowly, the tables became less crowded, the heat diminished, and the haze became less dense.
Ronin sat with legs outstretched, swirling the dark dregs of wine in the earthenware goblet, watching the twisting reflections on its opaque surface. The general din of conversation had slackened and the clatter of the Servers clearing the tables could be heard. They hurried along the narrow aisles, huge trays filled now with the remnants of Sehna held high above their heads, out of the way of passing Bladesmen. Ronin was asked if he wished more wine and he shook his head.
He itched to leave but felt the necessity of anonymity: he did not want to depart too soon. It was possible that no one was watching, but in any event he did not want to give the impression that he had somewhere specific to be off to.
Then he saw Nirren approaching and was suddenly glad that he had stayed this long. The Chondrin sat down close to him, pouring himself a drink from the last of the wine still on the table. He smiled and looked about them. There was no one near and plenty of background noise. Still smiling, he said softly, ‘I think you will be interested in this. That Teck of the Magic Man’s. Maastad? You remember? He works for Freidal.’
Ronin put down his goblet. ‘A daggam?’
Nirren sipped his wine slowly, did not look directly at Ronin. ‘No. A Teck, all right. But affiliated with Security. They do it all the time. When they are interested in something or someone, it is sometimes the only way in.’ He paused while a Server picked up the empty flagon. ‘They tried to affiliate Borros a while ago but he refused. So they sent the Rodent in to learn what he could.’
‘Apparently it was not enough.’
‘Uhm hmm. Listen, I have been given a special assignment. I have to find a Rodent of my own. I cannot tell you more now, but’—he looked at Ronin, a momentary flicker, and then his eyes were again roaming the Great Hall—‘I may need your help soon, even though you may be reluctant to give it. As for the other matter—’ He smiled and said in a louder voice, ‘Later.’
Ronin watched his back as he departed and was lost finally in the vast sea of moving bodies.
A soft snore passed from his open mouth. He lay sprawled on the couch, his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms embracing a pile of tablets. His seamed face was drawn, and pouches of grey skin hung under his eyes. Even in sleep he looks tired, thought Ronin.
He crossed the room, gently shook Stahlig’s shoulder. Immediately the eyes flew open, bloodshot but alert. He pulled himself up, heedless of the tumbling tablets, and cleared his throat. ‘Uhm, just resting for a moment.’
Ronin turned, hunted for the wine. ‘You look like you have lost a lot of sleep.’
‘Just’—Stahlig pointed—‘over there behind those tablets.’ Ronin poured the wine and he drank gratefully. ‘Mm, it’s that overload from Downshaft, Frost take it!’ His eyes shifted about the room. ‘A fine state when there are not enough Medicine Men in the Freehold. We may have to start using promising Students like K’reen.’ He finally saw the tablets on the floor. ‘Well.’ He cleared his throat again.
Flicker.
Down the
A Bladesman wearing orange and brown wove his way towards them. He bowed to his Chondrin, whispered briefly in his ear. Nirren nodded and leaned over to Ronin. ‘Estrille’ he mouthed silently, rose, and made his excuses to the table.
In some way, although it might have been coincidental, his departure was the signal for even greater revelry. Tomand called to the adjacent tables and soon they were exchanging wine flagons and goblets, talking of inconsequential matters.
The seventh Spell expended itself and the eighth commenced. With it the Great Hall began to empty. Slowly, the tables became less crowded, the heat diminished, and the haze became less dense.
Ronin sat with legs outstretched, swirling the dark dregs of wine in the earthenware goblet, watching the twisting reflections on its opaque surface. The general din of conversation had slackened and the clatter of the Servers clearing the tables could be heard. They hurried along the narrow aisles, huge trays filled now with the remnants of Sehna held high above their heads, out of the way of passing Bladesmen. Ronin was asked if he wished more wine and he shook his head.
He itched to leave but felt the necessity of anonymity: he did not want to depart too soon. It was possible that no one was watching, but in any event he did not want to give the impression that he had somewhere specific to be off to.
Then he saw Nirren approaching and was suddenly glad that he had stayed this long. The Chondrin sat down close to him, pouring himself a drink from the last of the wine still on the table. He smiled and looked about them. There was no one near and plenty of background noise. Still smiling, he said softly, ‘I think you will be interested in this. That Teck of the Magic Man’s. Maastad? You remember? He works for Freidal.’
Ronin put down his goblet. ‘A daggam?’
Nirren sipped his wine slowly, did not look directly at Ronin. ‘No. A Teck, all right. But affiliated with Security. They do it all the time. When they are interested in something or someone, it is sometimes the only way in.’ He paused while a Server picked up the empty flagon. ‘They tried to affiliate Borros a while ago but he refused. So they sent the Rodent in to learn what he could.’
‘Apparently it was not enough.’
‘Uhm hmm. Listen, I have been given a special assignment. I have to find a Rodent of my own. I cannot tell you more now, but’—he looked at Ronin, a momentary flicker, and then his eyes were again roaming the Great Hall—‘I may need your help soon, even though you may be reluctant to give it. As for the other matter—’ He smiled and said in a louder voice, ‘Later.’
Ronin watched his back as he departed and was lost finally in the vast sea of moving bodies.
A soft snore passed from his open mouth. He lay sprawled on the couch, his legs crossed at the ankles, his arms embracing a pile of tablets. His seamed face was drawn, and pouches of grey skin hung under his eyes. Even in sleep he looks tired, thought Ronin.
He crossed the room, gently shook Stahlig’s shoulder. Immediately the eyes flew open, bloodshot but alert. He pulled himself up, heedless of the tumbling tablets, and cleared his throat. ‘Uhm, just resting for a moment.’
Ronin turned, hunted for the wine. ‘You look like you have lost a lot of sleep.’
‘Just’—Stahlig pointed—‘over there behind those tablets.’ Ronin poured the wine and he drank gratefully. ‘Mm, it’s that overload from Downshaft, Frost take it!’ His eyes shifted about the room. ‘A fine state when there are not enough Medicine Men in the Freehold. We may have to start using promising Students like K’reen.’ He finally saw the tablets on the floor. ‘Well.’ He cleared his throat again.
Flicker.
Down the
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