Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- Contents
- PREVIOUSLY …
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART III
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART IV
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- ALSO BY DAVID WRAGG
- About the Publisher
‘Aye, no fear on that score,’ Lemon cackled as she piled through the doorway, ‘consider it a devout imperative …’
TWENTY
‘This,’ Lemon said, raising an exquisite cage cup that glittered in the candlelight, ‘is fucken brilliant.’
They sat in a secluded, sunken booth on the Pearl Terrace, ensconced by tall screens, reclining around an octagonal table on cushions that were as plump and luxuriant as any Chel had ever seen. Even Rennic was able to raise a smile, turning his delicate drinking vessel in his calloused hands, allowing Lemon to refill it yet again with another splash of heavenly wine. The big man watched the liquid swirl around the cup, mesmerized, while strains of gentle music flowed over them from musicians unseen and undisturbed, and laughter echoed elsewhere on the terrace. On the booth’s far side, Whisper dozed, long limbs stretched and her boots set neatly on the floor beside her.
Chel swallowed a grape, one of the few that Foss hadn’t got to first. ‘Is this … Are we …?’ The wine was getting to him. ‘Tarfel’s birthday?’
‘A rest, cub. Princeling can celebrate himself if he wishes. Discreetly.’
Tarfel sat apart from the others, a wine pitcher to himself, drinking steadily and without pause, and occasionally toasting himself. He seemed both joyful and morose, which was quite an achievement. Chel determined to shuffle over and join the prince in his solitary revels, just as soon as he’d had a bit more fruit. And maybe some olives.
‘Ancestors,’ Lemon said, eyes glassy as she leered once more at her cup, ‘this is the fucken good stuff.’
Loveless took a swig from her cup and made a face. ‘Tastes off to me.’
‘You’re missing out, but more for the rest of us!’
A young couple slid into their booth, clean-limbed and dressed in wisps of silk, each equally smooth and beautiful. The boy smiled and said, ‘Were you looking for any company? We have many friends.’
Rennic belched and pushed himself to his feet. ‘I’m going to the privy.’ He pushed past the young people without a second look.
‘Oh, Gar, try to enjoy yourself,’ Loveless called after him. She looked the new pair over, then muttered, ‘Really going in for the silk thing around here, aren’t you?’
The boy’s polished brow creased, perplexed. ‘I understand we have excellent relationships with many merchants who travel the Serican trail.’
‘I’ll bet you do.’
From her pitch in the depths of the booth, Kosh was staring at the friendly girl. She was tall, muscular, oiled or buttered from the sheen on her smooth skin. Her hair was braided with small silver rings that tinkled when she tilted her head. Kosh gazed, enraptured, then looked sharply away when the girl met her eye with a smile.