The Malmillard Codex by K.G. McAbee Read Free Book Online Page B

laugh of his own.
    "How flattering, Mistress Accascia," he
chanced, his heart in his throat but mindful of Madryn's advice
that others would believe him free if he did so. "I knew my
size would have to be of benefit some day. Perhaps I can make
enough to offset the cost of some new clothing." He looked down
ruefully at his travel-stained gear.
    Accascia rose onto thick legs and stamped
forward, her face wreathed in a cheerful grin, her leather jerkin
creaking at the sudden added strain. The urchins parted like waves
before her flowing bulk. "Indeed, sir, and I hope you will not take
the words of a poor woman amiss. It was merely admiration of your
proportions, if you take my meaning, sir," she said when she stood
beside the greater bulk of Daemon, patting him appreciatively. "One
seldom sees such a fine figure of a man outside the arena or off
the slave blocks in this town, you see, sir. Gentlemen of your
prodigious proportions…" she admired her phrase enough to repeat
it, "…prodigious proportions remain at court, no doubt, where their
assets can be of more use to them."
    "They do indeed," agreed Madryn. She patted
Val on one thick thigh—and Val felt a tingle run up his leg to his
center. "I thank the gods daily that the High Lord Valaren has
agreed to accompany me, instead of spending his time at court with
others of his ilk."
    Accascia nodded in complete understanding,
as if she too were some royal refugee. "Only pray remember, milady
and milord," she repeated, "stay away from the Sailor's
Delight . I have a cousin who runs a most reputable place, fit
for such folk as you. It's near the docks—but not too near, if you
catch my meaning—and it's called the Drunken Raven . You will
receive the best of our local hospitality there, at the best of
prices. And no questions asked, milady and lord."
    "Tell me, mistress," asked Val, emboldened
by his success, "how much do you receive for advising us of this
most reputable place?"
    The gatekeeper beamed up at him. "Why, sir,
only a tiny bit, as a thanks, to be sure," she said.
    Madryn laughed and shook her head at the
portly woman, whose head was level with Daemon's belly. "We shall
certainly try it, then," she said. "But our more important need
just now is a blade for my friend here. Where can the finest blades
in Karleon be found?"
    Accascia ruminated for a moment as the
urchins surged around her. Swatting at them as if at flies, she
cocked her tousled head to one side and replied at last, "I have a
nephew…"
    "Somehow I thought you might."
    "A nephew who does a thriving trade in all
sorts of steel, from Tollino rapiers to the wide, heavy blades from
Varaganisshe. And strangely enough, he can be found just south of
the Drunken Raven , in the Street of the Artificers."
    "What a coincidence," agreed Madryn,
laughing. "And this nephew's name?"
    "Baragin. A most likely lad, and I'm sure
he'll be able to provide you with just what you wish."
    "No doubt." Daemon shook his head and
strained against the reins. "My horse is anxious for his supper,"
Madryn continued. "Our thanks for your assistance and advice,
Mistress Accascia." A coin glinted in the air as it appeared
between lean brown fingers. A flip, and it tumbled towards the
burly gatekeeper. Accascia grabbed at it, but it slipped through
her pudgy digits and tumbled into the dust of the road.
    At once, a herd of shouting, whining
children landed on the tiny bit of metal. As Daemon cantered down
the dirty street, his riders could hear a diminishing tumult of
angry voices, interspersed with the sounds of blows and slaps.
    ***
    The Drunken Raven was a shabby place
that reeked at low tide and promised to smell only faintly better
at high. Composed of a single large chamber below, its upper floor
was cut up into a maze of wandering corridors lined with meager
rooms. But the gatekeeper had been right. It was cheap, relatively
clean, and most important of all, no one bothered to ask anything
of this newly arrived pair of