Liavek 1 Read Online Free Page B

almost forgot Badu. "Did you know Siosh Desoron, before he died? He had three sons and two daughters. The sons learned their father's trade, the outfitting and managing of caravans, out of duty. But he taught his youngest daughter, Galeme, as well. It was said that she could bring a 'van through the Waste in midsummer, with robbers thick as flies in a barn, and never so much as a broken goblet in all the load.
    "Now all that is said of someone named Snake, and the Desorons claim that Siosh had only one daughter. Are you, perhaps, that Snake?"
    Snake replied, with corrosive emphasis on every word, "What business is it of yours?"
    He shrugged.
    "There's no secret of it, however much my mother may wish there was. But Snake is quicker to say, so for your convenience, you may leave the Desorons out of it."
    He rose and made her a bow. There was a great deal of self-congratulation in his smile, and she felt a surge of anger, at him and at herself. Why had she taken his bait, and what possible good could he get out of it?
    She stepped out into the aisle, placing herself where he had to confront her or turn toward the door. He chose the latter. So they both saw the flash of gilded red swoop toward the opening. It was a finch, one of the multitude that lived half-tame on the city's accidental bounty, bright fluttering ornaments on roof peaks and windowsills. It was nearly within the door frame before it beat its wings furiously, veered, and was gone upward and out of sight.
    The face that Koseth turned to her was bland and unreadable; but she had caught a glimpse of it before he'd turned, and his look had been black as the bottom of the sea.
    After he left, the shop had a breathless quiet about it. The finch, Snake knew, could have been quite ordinary. She'd had to catch birds before that had gotten in a door or open window and forgotten how to get out. Its sudden change of direction might have come when it saw the two humans blocking the doorway.
    Or it might have been a magician, wearing bird-shape to enter the Tiger's Eye, who'd discovered the effect of Silvertop's glove. (Which made her wonder, what was the glove's effect? Was it a barrier, like the one Badu had made? Did it return a disguised magician to true shape? Snake wished she'd asked.) If it was a magician, was it an ally Koseth had summoned, or was it the true danger, and Koseth no threat at all?
    The third possibility Snake liked even less: that Badu had two enemies.
    It was Snake's custom to keep the Tiger's Eye open until seven o'clock on business days. She managed to hold to that, though seven had never seemed so late. The traffic was lively as people came in to browse before continuing on to their dinners. Many ascended to the status of customer: A young man with curly black hair bought a coverlet woven in a rare antique pattern called Palm Leaf Shadows known only to an old woman who lived on the Street of Trees; an elegant-looking man in his thirties knocked over a fat little brass bowl and bought it by way of apology; and a shaven-headed ship's captain, who laughed often and without humor, bought herself a large copper earring.
    The little clock chimed seven times, and Snake slumped forward over the counter. Her vigil, she knew, was far from finished. But now she could bar the door and make the Tiger's Eye a fortress. She felt a fleeting longing for previous visits from Badu, when at seven o'clock Snake and Thyan would go upstairs and make dinner, and Badu would entertain them with Ombayan gossip.
    Or further back, when Snake was sixteen, and she and Badu had been herd guards one summer in Ombaya....It was dangerous work, and the two of them had worked and fought well together. Snake wished Badu could be at her back now.
    She had just slid the bar home when she heard a sound behind her. She turned.
    The elegant man, the one who had knocked over the bowl, stepped from behind a tall mahogany cupboard. In his hand was a flintlock pistol, its single barrel pointed