Liavek 1 Read Online Free

contents for a moment without raising his eyes from the glove, bumped into a little stoneware dish and pinched something out of it. (Snake wondered if he had any idea what it was he'd grabbed.) He dropped the powder into the palm of the glove, folded it over, and scrubbed the surfaces together. Suddenly he flung the glove into the air. It glowed blinding blue for an instant, then dropped back into his hands, as grey and gnawed-looking as before.
    ''There you go," he said, and held it out to her. "Tack it up over the front door, inside."
    "And hope no one looks up," Snake muttered. She took it by the cuff, gingerly. It was stiff with age and dirt. "Well, thank you. How much do I owe you?"
    "It was pretty easy, that specific and that short a time. Call it a half-levar."
    Snake pulled out the pouch and counted a half-levar plus a little, which she knew Silvertop wouldn't notice, into his hand. "Can you bring the glove back when you're done?' he asked her at the door.
    "I wouldn't think of keeping it," Snake said fervently. "Oh, and—" he said, and stopped.
    "Yes?"
    "Um, tell Thyan that the...um, the spell didn't work. And I guess you should tell her she was right, too."
    Snake laughed. "If I don't, she'll say it herself."
    "And it's okay if she wants to come back." He looked embarrassed.
    "I'll tell her."
    "Thanks, Snake. G'bye." And he shut the door behind her. Out in the street, she steeled herself and tucked the obnoxious glove in her sash. Late afternoon pedestrians eddied past her. Food cart owners hawked meat rolls, fruit tarts and stuffed dates to tide their patrons over until dinner. From somewhere around the corner she heard street musicians, fiddle and baghorn and drums. A redheaded woman selling half-copper scandal sheets shouted her tease, which mentioned the names of a famous nobleman and a notorious artist in interesting conjunction. There was something encouraging, Snake found, in the way that Liavek ignored her incipient crisis. She strode back to the Tiger's Eye feeling strengthened.
    The shop door opened to her pull, and she felt a sudden fear. Badu hadn't barred it behind her. She stepped forward—and thumped painfully against a barricade of perfect transparency and Badulike contrivance. "Ouch," Snake said. "It's me."
    The barrier began to change at once, from iron to pudding to air, under Snake's hand. She rubbed her nose and went in. Badu was in the parlor upstairs. The room occupied most of the front half of the second floor, which made it more or less square. The walls were paneled in scrubbed pale pine to about hip height; above that was rough whitewashed plaster, relieved by a very few carefully chosen woven hangings and other bits of art. Badu sat on the red patterned rug at a low table, setting out sausage, golden cheese, and two of the peaches. "The last of the travel food," she said with a wave at it. "Have you any bread?"
    Snake fetched it from its box in the little kitchen and settled down across from Badu for a hasty picnic. "Anyone come calling while I was out?"
    "Either two people, or the same one twice. The first very nearly did what you did, at the front door. The second tried the latch on the back."
    "You didn't get a look either time?"
    "It didn't seem prudent to stick my head out the window."
    "Mmm." Snake gathered up a second helping of everything to take downstairs. "Here's my plan. I assume you'd be better able to do what you were hired for if you didn't have to dodge assassins while you did it."
    Badu nodded.
    "Then I'm going downstairs and opening the shop. I can't catch the fellow if we barricade him out."
    Snake had made sure to say this when Badu's mouth was full, and she ignored the resulting strangling noises that followed her down the stairs.
    As she nailed the revolting glove to the lintel next to the bells, she considered her chances. She was not as confident as she had given Badu to think; still, the assassin would very likely underestimate her and her preparations when he