The Aware (The Isles of Glory Book 1) by Glenda Larke Read Free Book Online

circumspect. He hangs around The Drunken Plaice a lot. Rumour has it he likes one of the backroom girls there, poor bint. The fourth one’s the most dangerous of the lot: a Fen Islander with a chip on his shoulder about his short stature. His name’s Domino and he’s the one with the brains.’
    ‘But you don’t think any of these attractive fellows meddles with dunmagic? Were any of them in The Drunken Plaice at lunch today?’
    ‘Sickle the torturer was. But I’ve known all four of them for years, including Sickle. I’ve had business with them all, at one time or another. If any of them practises dunmagic, then I’m a lot more dense than I thought. No, this dunmagic business—if that’s what it is that’s got everyone so scared—started only about four months back.’
    ‘Then maybe you could give a thought to remembering who arrived on Gorthan Spit about four months back. Someone who has contact with at least one of those four. And who was in The Drunken Plaice at lunch.’
    He gave me an uneasy glance. ‘Offhand I can’t think of anyone, but I’ll give it some thought. Why?’
    ‘Because someone cast a dunspell.’
    ‘At lunch? In front of everyone?’
    ‘Yes. Not aimed at either of us, though, don’t worry. But it was too powerful for me to say who was responsible.
    ‘A dunmaster, then. That’s a dangerous brew to stir, Blaze.’
    ‘If I know what’s in the brew, then I know how to avoid agitating those ingredients that would give me trouble. I don’t want trouble, Niamor. And neither do you.’
    ‘How to avoid it—that’s the problem. There’s just too much happening. And I haven’t told you the half of it. For example, I haven’t told you about all the people who have become interested in Gorthan Spit in the past few months. We even had a Keeper ship in here—Keepers! They’ve never concerned themselves with the Spit before. And there’s a ghemph in town. Why would one of those thumb-fumbling web-foots come here? In addition, I’ve seen more patriarchs of the Menod in the last couple of months than I’ve seen in thirty years of sinful living.’ He shook his head in bewilderment. At a guess, Niamor had never had much to do with the Men of God patriarchs, or any other priest for that matter.
    A ghemph, however, now that interested me. I fingered my empty earlobe instinctively. Ghemphs were citizenship tattooists. Niamor’s remark about thumb-fumbling was a gross calumny; ghemphs were skilled artisans. But they weren’t human. ‘The ghemph: is it still around?’ I asked casually.
    ‘Yeah, as far as I know. But don’t get your hopes up, Blaze. It’s not doing any unlawful business.’
    I changed the subject. ‘Do you know anything about a Straggler citizen called Tor Ryder? Or about a good-looking young man who calls himself Noviss?’
    He shook his head. ‘I know the two you mean, but God only knows where they fit in. Neither of them are in the common line of visitor, any more than the Cirkasian beauty is. And I don’t know where you fit in either. I wish you’d tell me more—’
    ‘I’ve nothing to do with any of this. My only interest is in the purchase of a slave.’ At least, that was what I’d thought when I arrived; I was no longer quite so sure.
    He looked at me doubtfully. ‘Ah—you’re probably right not to trust me too far. I have a reputation for keeping secrets, for being reliable—but faced with dunmagic, I’d sell my soul to the Devil, my mother to a brothel, and my friends into slavery, you along with them.’ He shrugged. ‘Niamor always comes first with Niamor.’
    I believed him. ‘Wise man.’
    ‘Look out, there’s someone coming.’ He bent down to kiss me again, shielding me with his body so that whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see me. I would have laughed if I’d been in a position to do so; he was obviously very anxious not to be seen consorting with a halfbreed who might later be recognised as one of the Awarefolk.
    A couple of