Of Machines & Magics by Adele Abbot Read Free Book Online Page B

perhaps another layer of dust had been added to the ledges and shelves along the walls. The main lounge had a low vaulted roof of stone supported upon slate pillars. Tapestries and carpets—dark with age—hung between the side walls and the two outermost rows of pillars to form a number of semi-private booths, each lit by an oil lamp and holding a round table with stools and benches. Untrimmed furs and woven mats littered the flagstone floor, they soaked up spilt beer and absorbed the trodden-in scraps of food and other detritus.
    A score or so patrons quaffed beer and ate from bowls of bouillabaisse—a specialty of the Raftman’s Ease.
    Ponderos stood for a moment just inside the door, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the dimness. His bright clothing and huge physique set him apart from the gathering of hunter-traders who preferred to dress in dull greens and browns, the better to avoid becoming prey to those creatures they hunted. Almost without exception, they were tall and thin with lean and hungry looking features.
    A quickly-spreading silence overtook the conversation as everyone looked up to examine the newcomer and watch as he guided Calistrope to a corner seat in a booth as close to the fire as possible. He went to the bar where mine host was pouring drinks and serving plates of fish stew, and apart from one or two women who were obviously somewhat struck by the big man’s physique, the patrons returned to their drinking and discussion.
    “Landlord Perspic?” Ponderos enquired.
    “Dead these five months,” grunted his replacement filling another bowl with soup, deftly catching a drip with his thumb and licking it lest it go to waste. “Old Perspic—we gave his body to the Lake last Lamagan’s Day.” The new landlord was a dark and saturnine individual with a complexion like lake-bottom mud and a paunch which hung over the front of his trousers. “I bought this dilapidated place from his heirs for an inflated price and will doubtless live to rue the day.”
    Ponderos chewed at his bottom lip. “The Raftman’s Ease is a tavern with a long and honorable history.”
    “And history does not pay the fishermen who sell me their catch at far too a high a price. I shall end up a pauper and catch all manner of diseases and die with no one to mark my grave.”
    “That will be an end to your miseries then,” replied Ponderos with finality. “Now, I require a room, a room with three beds, one bath and the usual conveniences.”
    The Landlord stopped in the middle of ladling out the stew. “A room is it?” he finished filling the bowl and passed it the serving girl. “Well Sir, require whatever you like. What you may have, at the cost of a copper flake—which is nowhere near its true worth, is a mattress in this common room after the lights are doused, the use of a bar of soap, a basin of cold water and the privy over the lake. As you see,” he waved a greasy hand at the many hunters of both genders who filled the tavern, “the inn is near full. The traders are late and there are many who have been waiting here a week or more.”
    “You must be making a fair fortune then, if they have nothing to do but to drink you dry,” Ponderos shrugged. “I shall have two flagons—no, make it three, of Merrion White and three no, make that four bowls of bouillabaisse,” Ponderos took two thin discs of beaten copper from his purse and put them on the counter. “My friend is still very ill, he was stung by a dragonfly and his life has been hanging in the balance ever since. He needs warmth and rest.”
    He pressed his lips together, in an expression of unhappiness and went back to the booth to find Roli had arrived and was tucking Calistrope’s cloak around his shivering form.
    A minute later, the girl arrived with a tray bearing three flagons and as many leather cups. There was also a dish of salt and mixed herbs to flavor the fish stew.
    “Sir,” she said to Ponderos. “I heard what you said about your