Bloodstone Read Online Free Page A

of needle-pronged flashes crackled through his skull, and he pressed his forehead against his palms, leaning forward with elbows balanced on knees. Tenderly he massaged, breathing a sigh compounded of curses and groans, until the ache retreated. H became conscious that something unclean had died as mouth during the night.
    Shenan's tits! That had been a night! All of Selonari must have lain awake at the noise! The major part of his gentry and mercenary captains had sat down to banquet. In the terminal stages of hangover, Dribeck regretted the improvident beakers of wine he had emptied. It was ruinous to match his brawny vassals cup for cup, but then his hold on their respect dictated that he stand in their eyes as full a man as any, for all his unassuming stature. In truth, though, Dribeck admitted that prudence had not tainted the wine's compelling savor at the time.
    His face felt greasy, Dribeck noted, as he pushed back his shoulder-length black hair and stroked smooth a tangled mustache. His jaw was convincingly stubbled, although to his chagrin its growth was too sparse even at 28 years to furnish a respectable beard. A great shame, that--a beard would add a note of strength, of dashing to his somewhat gaunt features. Not a weak profile by any measure--women found it virile enough, and men described his face as "watchful" or "quick" or "cunning." Strong enough an image for the ruler of a city-state, although Dribeck might hope for one more `formidable in these times.
    Shivering, he rose to his feet and pushed groggily through the curtains enclosing his bed. Pentri snorted in her sleep and half rolled to his vacated place. She was still asleep, or feigning it well--her exhaustion was gratifying, as Dribeck recalled her teasing laughter at his drunken loveplay. The rumpled furs revealed a long stretch of soft hip, but he checked his move to adjust the covering and stepped away with curtain askew. Pentri could catch cold, and Asbraln could eat his heart out. Cursing as his foot tangled in a discarded garment, Dribeck wrestled a robe over his spare frame and shuffled to the door.
    Asbraln, a legacy of Dribeck's father and his tutor at arms and statecraft in younger days, swept into his lord's chamber. Glass crunched under his boot, and he regarded with raised eyebrow the strewn fragments of wine bottle. "You stated last night..." he began. His eyes widened for a second as they peered past the disarrayed curtains, and he turned his gaze quickly from the distraction. "Ah... you announced your intention to rise early to speak with Gerwein before returning to your guests."
    Dribeck grunted sourly and massaged the back of his neck. Attendants were prowling about the chamber now, sorting through the debris to find fresh clothing for their master. Pentri cursed sleepily and burrowed beneath the furs. Giving her an envious look, Dribeck yielded himself to his servants' ministrations. - There were better cures for a hangover than to plunge into the tangled subtleties of Selonari statecraft,, he- reflected.
    "Any word as to Gerwein's present mood or thoughts?" he inquired of his chamberlain.
    Asbraln spread his fingers. "She's angry--angry and suspicious. But that's not a new story. Our high priestess, is unhappy with the increasing rumors that you intend to remove the tax exemptions the Temple of Shenan has enjoyed these many years. And this latest gathering of military power she interprets as a display 'of strength--an indication that you mean to enforce your taxation of Shenan's virgin coffers. I think she envisions a wholesale looting of the Temple wealth... and it's certain that she has unobtrusively increased the Temple guard."
    "A lot of good that will be to her, if she thinks to stand against my will in this! But she must give some credence to my insistence that we strengthen our armed might against Breimen. The peace has been a tottering sham for years now, and it's common knowledge Malchion has doubled his mercenary ranks