The Malmillard Codex Read Online Free Page B

tray of its
burden of covered dishes exuding savory smells, and placed them on
the linen tablecloth. Valerik smiled as his stomach gave a lurch of
expected pleasure. The waiter, misinterpreting Valerik's
expression, smiled himself and continued, "I believes that I be
close to the size of the gentleman, barring a hand of height or
so." He continued uncovering platters and dishes, releasing from
each one a tiny cloud of succulent steam.
    Indeed, Radisin was not quite as tall as
Valerik, but he was every bit as broad and more. The servant's bulk
was composed, however, of equal parts flab and muscle and bone, as
opposed to Valerik's sleek but heavily muscled build.
    "These will suit us very well, I thank you,"
said Madryn as she uncorked a bottle of wine and poured some of its
contents into two mugs. "Will this be enough for your trouble?"
Another silver coin appeared, to disappear as quickly.
    "Thank you, milady, thank you," Radisin
bowed as he backed out of the room, dragging the now unburdened lad
with him, broad smiles on both their faces. "Someone will be along
to fetch you when your room is ready."
    Madryn rose and latched the door behind
them. "There, I thought a room might suddenly appear," she said as
she returned to the table, "and now perhaps we can have a bit of
peace while we eat. Why don't you pull those clothes on and let's
get something hot inside us?"
    Valerik seized the breeches, slid into them,
pulled the shirt over his head and buttoned it close about his
scarred neck, and was still but an instant later than she sitting
down. He watched, his mouth full of hot juices, as she heaped his
plate full of meat roasted with root vegetables and a huge hunk of
bread, then pulled it and a mug of wine across the table.
    "I fear we cannot ask much of the house
wine, but one must travel rough when traveling fast," Madryn
murmured, and then gave a small grimace after her first sip.
    Valerik had no such niceties. He tore into
the food, finishing his second plateful before Madryn had gone
through her first. Another bottle was opened and demolished and a
third was undertaken before they both slid their chairs back with
matching sighs of repletion. Not one word had been exchanged during
the meal, and neither said a word as they sipped their wine.
    Valerik looked at his rescuer from under
lowered lids; now that his most pressing physical needs had been
met, he was back to wondering about her plans for him. Perhaps it
was her pleasure to help him escape, give him hope, and then turn
him back over to his owner? It wouldn't surprise him; in his
experience of nobles—admittedly not a vast one—they had such
depravity of tastes. His late mistress, for one…
    Madryn gazed with absent interest towards
the fire. Valerik took full advantage of her distraction to examine
her. A tall woman, lean and quick and wiry, with little sign of the
softness he had noticed so often in the nobility and the very
rich—though her dress and habits marked her clearly as both the one
and the other. One of her hands lay upon the tabletop, clever brown
fingers turning a tiny salt spoon over and under like a conjurer
with a card. Short wisps of tawny hair escaped from a hasty braid
and framed a bronzed face, with a long narrow nose and a high
forehead. A faint scar jagged across her right temple, white
against the brown skin.
    Not a beautiful face, by any means, but it
was saved from plainness by those eyes, those remarkable eyes with
their violet streaks against the gray. They reminded Valerik of a
sunset at the end of a stormy day.
    The odd poetic image made him smile. He
could not remember the last time he had smiled. It felt strange as
it pulled on his weary face.
    Yes, a strange feeling, he thought. But
stranger by far was Madryn's reaction to his smile. Without his
notice, so lost had he been in his thoughts, she had brought her
distant gazed back from the fire, to find his eyes full upon her.
He watched in amazement as her face paled, her eyes