Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [86]
Since the High King would have been furious to find his noble-born retainers meddling with Bardek opium, those few who’d acquired this dangerous taste never indulged it inside his dun. Down in the city of Dun Deverry itself was a luxurious inn, the top floor of which was reserved for noble patrons who needed a chamber for some private reason. Many a pretty lass from the town had lost her virtue in that inn, and many a pipeful of opium had tainted its air. For his second meeting with Lord Camdel, Master of the King’s Bath, Sarcyn had rented a chamber there.
Now the young lord was half sitting, half reclining against a pile of cushions on a Bardek-style divan and twirling an empty clay pipe between his long fingers. About twenty, Camdel was slenderly built, with a thick shock of brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, and the most arrogant smile Sarcyn had ever seen pasted upon a man’s face. During their first meeting he’d treated Sarcyn as a servant, snapping his fingers as he demanded drink or a better chair.
“His lordship seems to be the kind of ambitious young man we’ve been looking for,” Sarcyn said. “It could be quite profitable for you to join us.”
With a little nod Camdel looked up, his dilated eyes heavy-lidded.
“I wouldn’t mind being shed of Anghariad altogether,” Camdel said. “The stuff’s cursed dear.”
“Just so, and if you began marketing it yourself, you’d get a much better price from us. I’m sure I can trust you to be discreet, my lord.”
“Of course. My own neck’s in this noose, isn’t it?”
Sarcyn smiled, thinking the image all too apt.
“But before I agree to anything,” Camdel went on, “I insist on speaking to someone more important than a common courier.”
“Of course, Your Lordship. I was sent only to find out if his lordship would be interested. I assure you that the man who commands us will speak to you personally. He’ll reach Dun Deverry in another week.”
“Good. You may tell him that he may arrange a meeting here.”
Sarcyn inclined his head in a little gesture of humility. He’d been wondering how to get the lord together with Alastyr. How nice of Camdel’s arrogance to do the job for him!
It took the slow-moving caravan four days to reach Dun Mannannan, but at last the long line of men and mules straggled into the town’s central, open space that did service as a market square. After Rhodry got his hire, he and Jill led their horses down to the cheap little inn by the river where they’d stayed the fall before—only to find it burned out. A few black withes poked forlornly into the sky where once thatch had lain. A passing townswoman volunteered the information that a couple of the local lads had got into a bit of a fight, which had ended when a candle lantern got knocked into the straw on the floor.
“Oh, blast it,” Jill said. “Now we’ll have to camp by the road.”
“What?” Rhodry snapped. “There’s a perfectly good inn on the other side of town.”
“It’s expensive.”
“I don’t care, my miserly love. After camping in the midst of those stinking mules, I want a bath, and I’m going to have one.”
After a brief squabble she gave in and allowed him to lead the way to the other inn. A stout innkeep came bustling out to meet them as soon as they walked into the yard.
“No silver daggers in my inn!” he snarled.
Jill stepped smoothly between him and Rhodry.
“My good sir,” she said, “there’s nowhere else we can stay in town. Oh, please, don’t make us sleep out in the rain.”
“A lass, are you?”
“I am, and please, sir, can’t we sleep in your hayloft? That way we won’t trouble your other guests.”
“Ah, well, why not, then? A couple of coppers a night, say, and the feed for your horse.”
“Oh, gladly. And our thanks, truly.”
With a curt nod Rhodry’s way, the innkeep strode off and went inside.
“I’ll wager you’re pleased with yourself,” Rhodry said to Jill. “It’s disgusting, begging favors from scum like that.”
“Well, we