Maladine allowed herself a small smile as she sauntered to the bar. “Ah, Mrs. Caulia,” the barkeep said, bowing his head low, “I hope the day sees you well.” Alec was a handsome man with a shock of blond hair that fell to the length of his chin, and she could see the muscles of his arms even as he finished cleaning a glass mug and set it back down. He was the type of man that many women would have swooned over—and many did, noblewomen included—during their visits to the tavern. Maladine, however, was not one of them, for she had little interest in men or women either beyond how they might benefit her in reaching her goals.
“Alec,” she said.
“I must be blessed by the gods themselves to have you visit me again so soon,” he said, smiling a smile that had no doubt undressed many maidens in its time.
“Rather,” Maladine said, not taken in by the smile in the slightest, “that I visit wine, and you happen to be here as well.”
The blond man laughed, not put off by her words and why would he be? After all, there were a lot of women in the city, and Maladine—who made it her business to collect information as well as coin—knew for a certainty that Alec had bedded at least two of the women here, who even now giggled and fawned over their husbands.
“Would you like for me to prepare you a seat at your usual booth, mistress?”
Maladine glanced to the booth at which she normally sat, considering. It was a comfortable seat, comfortable and isolated, protected from the world on both sides by the high backed chairs…but just then it seemed somehow suffocating to her, and she felt a hint of claustrophobia at the thought of it. “I will take my drink at the bar tonight, Alec,” she said.
“Of course, madam,” he said, “and what would you like to drink on this fine evening?”
“The usual, Alec,” she said, sitting on one of the bar stools.
“Very well, ma’am.” The blond barkeep stepped away and returned a few moments later with a glass of red wine. Maladine placed a coin on the table and slid it to him.
“Thank you, Alec.”
“Of course, mistress. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
How about a look alike to go to a meeting with a king that scares me? Do you have one of those lying around? But she only nodded as the barkeep turned and went to check on another customer.
Maladine watched him leave and saw a man further down the bar staring at her, eyeing her up and down as if she were some horse he was considering purchasing. She pretended not to notice, taking a sip of her wine. The very last thing she wanted just then was to find herself in a conversation with a fool who thought a woman enjoyed being ogled like a piece of meat.
She took another sip of wine as she thought about the coming council meeting. She wondered if it would have anything to do with the people who had come up missing over the last few months, or if Belgarin intended to amass troops for another campaign against Isalla. The first didn’t concern her much, as she knew people always disappeared in the poor districts of large cities. The second though…the second could be quite interesting and, if she played her cards right, beneficial as well. After all, wars cost money—money that the king would need to borrow and when looking to borrow coin, where better than the richest bank in all of Telrear, the Golden Oars?
She risked a glance up. The man at the end of the bar was still eyeing her, but he didn’t whistle or shout, and that was something at least. Such things were not tolerated in the tavern as it catered almost exclusively to nobility. Not that noble women didn’t have affairs—Maladine had dealt with enough to know that it was one of their favorite pastimes—but even such pampered fools as they were, they still understood the importance of discretion in some matters. At least, most of them did. Still, shouting or not, the man’s steady, unflinching gaze made his intentions—and his wishes—clear enough. Maladine felt a flash of irritation at the man’s boldness, was considering saying something, when the door of the tavern opened behind her, and she turned to look, grateful for the distraction.
She expected to see some pompous lord or preening lady, so she was surprised to find that the man who entered didn’t look like any noble she’d ever seen, and she’d seen more than enough to last a lifetime. In fact, all in all, Maladine decided that the newcomer was, without a doubt, the strangest-looking man she’d ever seen in a life filled with strange men.
His dark skin marked him as one of the Parnen, the race of quiet, conservative people to Telrear’s south. The Parnen were known to be almost impossibly subdued, particularly around strangers, and in large part, kept to their own country and their own people. Seeing one here, in the north of Telrear and so far from his own country, would have been enough of a reason for the whispers of the nobles upon his entrance, but the fact that the man was Parnen was not the oddest thing about him.
His long, dark hair hung past his shoulders and things were intertwined within it. It took Maladine a moment of curious consideration to realize that they were in fact bells, bells that rang and jangled with each step the Parnen took toward the bar. He wore an outlandish motley of various shades and hues, each of them nice, fashionable pieces of attire on their own, but when put together, they had the effect of making the man look like some strange, strutting rainbow, and Maladine found herself unable to look away from the garish display. The man was smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world, ignorant or unconcerned by the stares that followed him as he made his way to the bar.
The barkeep, Alec, at least, didn’t seem disturbed in the slightest by the man’s appearance, and he bowed his head in a recognition that was further proven by the smile that rose on his face. “Ah, Mr. Leomin. It is quite a pleasure to see you again, sir.”
The Parnen grinned displaying a set of very straight, very white teeth. “Ah, master Alec,” he said, sitting down at one of the stools at the bar, “the pleasure is all mine, I assure you, though it is kind of you to say so.”
“Please, Mr. Leomin,” Alec said, “you do me too much honor. Still, I seem to recall telling you that just ‘Alec’ would do fine.”
“Yes,” the Parnen said, as Alec placed a mug of ale in front of him, “and I seem to recall telling you that Leomin would do. My father is mister, my mother miss, and I, for better or worse, am simply Leomin.”
The bartender nodded. “Very well, sir. I confess that I am surprised—though pleased—to see you again. I had thought your business was taking you out of Baresh.”
“And so had I, alas,” Leomin nodded, “but there has been some small matter with my finances, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?” Alec asked. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
The Parnen shrugged as if it mattered little. “There are those who would tell you, friend Alec, that any matter of finance is serious, but I am not one of them. My mother and father would no doubt tell you as much, were they here to do so.” He leaned in conspiratorially, and Maladine found herself sitting forward to hear the strange man’s words. “I’m afraid they think me quite irresponsible. Both fiscally and physically,” he said, winking.
Maladine was intrigued by the Parnen despite herself, but she did her best to affect disinterest as she took a drink of her wine and forced her eyes on the bar in front of her.
Alec laughed. “That, Leomin, is perhaps a trait we both share.”
“No,” the Parnen breathed, his eyes wide, “say it isn’t so, friend Alec. After all, you own this wonderful tavern, as fine an eating and drinking establishment as I have ever had the pleasure of patronizing. Truly, you strike me as a man my esteemed father would love to call son.” He let out a small sigh, grinning. “If you’ve any plans on visiting my home country, I do believe he is taking applications for the position even now.”
Alec chuckled, but then his expression grew sober. “Wait, is that the problem? Forgive me for prying, but if they’ve cut you off, surely—”
“Oh, no,” the Parnen said, waving a hand that glimmered with stones of various shades and hues, a match for the eccentric attire he wore, “it is nothing so serious a
s that, I assure you. My father would never allow one of the Blood to travel into the world a pauper, not even his wayward son.” He winked again. “It would reflect badly on him, you understand? No, it is only that the baggage train that was carrying my supplies and allowance has been somewhat delayed.” He sighed heavily. “On the morrow, I will be forced to travel into one of the lending houses in this fine city of yours and make some inquiries as to what monies might be forwarded to me in the meantime. After all,” he laughed, “I have a certain wayward, irresponsible lifestyle to uphold, do I not?”
Alec grinned, snapping his fingers as if an idea had just struck him. “But Leomin, it might very well have been the providence of the gods themselves that brought you in tonight.” He glanced at Maladine. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn when I say that Miss Caulia here is, in fact, the representative of the Golden Oars bank. Perhaps she could help you with your temporary problem.”
Maladine started, surprised to find herself the center of the conversation. “Um…well…” she said, hesitating. She studied the man’s clothes and the jewelry that bedecked both hands and his neck, a variety of precious—and very expensive—stones, never mind how they clashed. “Perhaps, I might be of some service to you.”
The Parnen seemed to consider for a moment then shook his head slowly. “It is very kind of you both,” he said, “but as is often the case, I have not come for business, but pleasure. It is, my father would tell you, one of my many failings. Besides, I would not want to bother…” He paused, turning his eyes on Maladine, and she found to her surprise that her heart sped up in her chest. “Miss Caulia, wasn’t it?”
Maladine was having difficulty speaking under that gaze, but she finally managed to get the words out. “Um…yes,” she said, “it is.”
He smiled then, and Maladine felt an unfamiliar thrill run through her at the sight of it. “No,” he said, turning to Alec, “I thank you for the attempt, kind Alec, but I do not wish to bother Mrs. Caulia anymore. People come to taverns, after all, to drink—that much I have learned and not from the mouths of my father’s tutors either. Now,” he said, bowing his head to each of them in turn, “I’m quite sure that you are both busy, and I have intruded upon your time as much as I dare. I will retire to one of your fine booths, but I wish you both a merry and,” he glanced at Caulia, “eventful or uneventful night, depending upon which it is that you seek.”
With that, the Parnen rose, grabbing his glass of ale and made his way to one of the booths. As he did, a man who Maladine had not noticed moved toward the booth, withdrawing a white cloth from the pocket of his trousers and wiping down the cushioned chair before the Parnen finally sat. The man had a jagged scar across his face, and he wore nice clothes, though nothing so fine—or outlandish—as the Parnen himself. By the way he bowed low to the dusky-skinned Parnen as he sat, it was clear that he was a servant of some kind.
Maladine watched them for a minute, then turned back to the blond-headed barkeep only to see that he was watching them as well, a small smile on his face. “Alec?”
The barkeep blinked and turned to her. “Forgive me, Miss Caulia, what may I help you with?”
“Well,” Maladine said, “you can start by refilling my glass—the same as the last. And next, you can tell me about that man there.”
“Mr. Leomin do you mean?” the barkeep asked as he poured her some more wine. “There’s not very much to tell, I suppose. Mr. Leomin has visited us a few times now, and it is always a treat.” Maladine was surprised to see the man smiling even as he spoke of it. “Have you ever met a man quite so interesting, Mrs. Caulia?”
“I’d say he’s interesting,” Maladine said, glancing at the man once more, “the clothes themselves are enough to give any tailor the fits.”
Alec laughed at that. “Mr. Leomin always comes dressed so. I asked him about it the first time—perhaps a week ago now?—and he told me that our country is full of such wonderful fashions that he could not choose one and decided that he didn’t have to.”
Maladine nodded slowly at that, thinking. The Parnen was interesting, that was certain, and she found herself being attracted to his strangeness for reasons she didn’t understand and couldn’t have explained if asked. Still, whatever magnetism the dark-skinned man had—and there was no denying that he did—it was not the only thing which drew her eye. The man was obviously rich. The rings on his fingers alone were worth a small fortune. “Is he truly so wealthy?” Maladine asked. “Or is it just some show he contrives?”
The barkeep grinned. “I suppose that if you asked Mr. Leomin, he would claim that everyone is always contriving to put on a show, only that some are better at it than others. Still, he’s here on business from the Parnen capital. He is a visiting dignitary to Telrear and, as I understand it, he is of royal blood. He told me that his parents sent him to Telrear in the hopes that witnessing our country’s, let me see, how did he put it? Oh yes, ‘manic boisterousness’ I believe he said, would somehow calm him down. Apparently,” he said with an amused shake of his head, “it hasn’t worked.”
Maladine nodded, but she was hardly listening, thinking of the man’s words. A rich man but not just rich, a royal of the Parnen blood-line. Such a man as that would have connections any bank’s representative would dream of making not to mention the wealth his family no doubt commanded. She said a quick thanks to the gods that she had been moved to get a drink. Opportunities such as this rarely came along, and Maladine had learned long ago never to let them pass when they did. “Thank you, Alec.”
“Of course, ma’am,” the barkeep said, then he excused himself to help another customer.
When he was gone, Maladine turned and studied the Parnen, trying to figure out what it was about him that was so captivating. Finally, she rose and started toward the man’s table almost before she knew she’d made the decision to do so. As she walked to the table, the Parnen looked up at her from where he’d been studying the ale in his mug as if intending to divine some secrets within. The servant took a step forward, putting himself between the Parnen and Maladine as if to protect him should she attempt anything.
“F-forgive me,” Maladine said, surprised, “I hadn’t meant any offense.”
“Oh, do relax, won’t you, Servant?” the Parnen said in a tone that was both weary and amused. “The kind lady does not mean me any harm, surely.”
The scarred man frowned at her, but he took a step back so that he was no longer between the two of them. “You must forgive Servant,” the Parnen said, sighing, “my parents found him on the borders of our lands when he was but a child. His family had been set upon by bandits, and he was the only one left alive, though, I’m afraid he did not escape without some souvenirs from the encounter.” He nodded at the man’s scarred face. “Still,” the Parnen said, smiling, “Servant may not be pretty to look upon, lady, but I assure you that he will do you no harm so long as I tell him. He is nothing if not loyal.”
“I’m sorry,” Maladine said, “but…the way you say it…is his name ‘Servant’?”
The Parnen shrugged. “It does as well as any other, does it not? I’m sure that he had another, once upon a time, but all those who knew it are dead. Except him, of course, but Servant has not spoken since he was found so many years ago. Now,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “I do not wish to bore you with such trifling matters. Tell me, what can I do for you?”
Maladine cleared her throat, feeling out of her element for the first time she could remember. She took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to gather herself. “I…actually, Mr. Leomin, I came to speak with you about something that I might be able to do for you.”
“Oh?” the dusky-skinned man asked. “Well, in that case, please do have a seat,” he said, waving at the chair across from him in invitation.
Maladine felt an unexpected thrill of pleasure run through her, but she pushed it down and concentrated on finding her equilibrium once more as she sat. “Yes, well, forgive me, but I couldn’t help overhearin
g some of your conversation with the barkeep.”
“Alec,” the Parnen said, nodding with a smile, “a truly gracious host. There are those in my father’s country who would do well to learn from such as him.”
“Yes,” Maladine said, “well, I heard you mention some issue with your baggage train being delayed.”
“Ah, that,” the Parnen said, frowning, “yes, a most embarrassing predicament to find oneself in, particularly when one is accustomed to…” He shrugged. “Well, a particular life-style.”
“As you say,” Maladine said, pushing her hair back with one hand, “though I thought that, perhaps, I might be of some small help with your…predicament, as you call it.”
“Is that so, Miss Caulia?” the Parnen said. His eyes met hers, and she felt as if some invisible power lurched in her chest, making her heart race and a sweet ache form in her as she looked at him. Gods, but the man was beautiful. Never mind the mismatched clothes or the bells that dangled from his hair, there was something about him that she found herself immensely attracted to. An unusual occurrence, as she had not found herself attracted to any man since she’d been a young girl, but there it was. Under the man’s dark gaze, she found all of the lessons she’d taught herself over a lifetime—lessons of manipulation, of using whatever means she had to gain advantage—vanishing in an instant. Even thoughts of the gold she could make seemed trivial and unimportant beside the power which now gripped her.
“Tell me, Miss Caulia,” he said, and Maladine found herself watching his lips as he spoke, her body feeling flushed and hot, “is business the only thing I have to thank for such a beautiful companion as yourself?”
Maladine swallowed, feeling as if some force had taken over her body. “I…that is…no. I wanted to talk to you.”
“And yet you do not any longer?” the man asked, leaning closer, and Maladine found herself leaning across the table toward him, so that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face, could smell some minty herb or clove on it that gave her a fresh rush of pleasure.
A Sellsword's Valor Page 25