Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [36]
Tinkling, genuine laughter surrounded them; the ladies were amused. El watched impassively, only a corner of his mouth crooked upward, as Budaera leaned forward until her darting tongue almost brushed Farl's ear, and breathed, "For just two silver bits more, I might be persuaded to make a pauper's exception… just this once…"
"For just two silver bits more," Farl said with elaborate dignity, "I might be compelled to accept your generous offer, good lady. Now, if someone in this august company would be so good as to lend me the trifling sum of-ah, two silver bits?"
There were snorts and lazily rude gestures from the benches beside him. Elminster held out a hand; when he turned it over, two silver coins were stuck to his palm.
Rather dubiously, Farl bent and plucked them free, one after another. Elminster had used only a trifling touch of gum on each; by the time Farl presented them to Budaera with a flourish, they were quite clean.
Budaera beckoned for the gold first. When she had it, she reached into her own armpit and made the coin disappear into the little scented safe pouch most of the ladies wore there. Then she took the pieces of silver, spun them briefly in the air in expert fingers, held up the last one, and kissed it, eyes on Farl's. "We have a deal, then, my lord of love."
She leaned forward, eyes suddenly full of mystery, and like a silent and watchful snake Elminster slid out from his seat beside Farl to give them room. Budaera purred wordless thanks to him as she moved her lithe body into the vacated space, and set to work.
Elminster stepped away, shaking his tankard in little circular movements to feel what little was left at the bottom of it-and froze. A slim finger was stroking him, ever so softly. He looked down-and caught his breath.
They called Shandathe "the Shadow" for the silence of her entrances and exits. More than once, El and Farl had agreed she must be an accomplished thief, or if she wasn't, was as accomplished at skulking as the best of them. Her large, dark eyes looked up past his belt buckle at Elminster-and he felt the need to swallow, his throat suddenly dry.
"Coins to lend, Eladar the Dark? Have ye-coins to spend?" Her voice was husky, her eyes hungry…
Elminster made a helpless little sound of need deep in his throat and dipped his hand to his sleeve, whose cuff was stuffed with gold pieces. "One or two," he managed, in a voice that was not quite steady.
Her eyes danced. "One or two, my lord? I'm sure I heard ye say three or four… aye, four gold. One for each of the delights I'll give thee." She licked his hand, the lightest of velvet touches in his palm. Elminster trembled.
Then he was shoved rudely aside. Whirling, he found himself looking into the cold grin of a burly bodyguard in livery. The man held up spiked gauntlets in warning, and El saw another bodyguard beyond him. Between them, in his own little ring of light provided by a small oil-lamp held above him on a curving pole by a weary servant, stood a short, pouty-looking man in flame-orange silks. His reddish hair fell in well-oiled ringlets to stain the silken shoulders of his open-fronted shirt. On his hairless chest was a lump of gold as large as a man's fist: a lion's head frozen in an endless, silent snarl, as it hung on a heavy gold chain. Rings of many gems and metals glittered and flashed on his fingers- two and three baubles to each digit, El noted with disgust, and all of it real.
He exchanged glances with Farl over Budaera's shocked face, and then the man thrust his codpiece, adorned with an openwork ivory and gold sheath that made it look like the figurehead of a very decadent Calishite pleasure-barge, right into Shandathe's face.
"Too busy, my little lass?" he drawled, and snapped his fingers. The servant with the lamp put a purse in them, and the man lazily spilled a dozen or so gold pieces down the front of Shandathe's gown. "Or have you time enough for a real man… with real gold to spend?"
"How many years does my lord want to spend with me?"