Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver Read Online Free

packets of fish eggs into his maw three at a time. One was enough for Korm. Again, the dish produced a profusion of flavors ending in the familiar tang of long pig.
    Each course that followed was the same. Meticulously prepared and delicately spiced with Creeg’s golden flakes, the plates looked more like fine art than food, yet despite his hunger, Korm had to force himself to continue. After the caviar, everything started to run together in his mind, and they all led to the same revolting conclusion. To Korm, everything tasted like human.
    Boletus and dungeness crab handkerchiefs. Human. Aurochs tongue on a bed of pesh flowers. Human. Truffled mammoth curd. Human. His fellow diners didn’t seem to notice, treating each new course as a wonderful delicacy to be savored and enjoyed. After a while Korm decided his affliction was psychological, and once he had swallowed enough of Creeg’s food to stave off starvation, he took only the smallest of bites, tuned out the alchemist’s pretentious presentation, and allowed his mind to wander.
    With walls of dark wood appointed with elaborate trim along the floor and ceiling, the room in which they dined conveyed a sense of power and wealth. At most six diners could sit around the fine marble-topped table, suggesting that the ship’s crew was meant to dine elsewhere, in a presumably far more humble setting. Finely wrought wooden doors marked the port and starboard walls. They’d come in from the port, and Korm suspected the opposite door led to the quarters of the ship’s senior staff. His mind subconsciously began to wonder what the bedchambers of a national ruler might look like, and Korm smiled as he sensed the return of his old self now that food and freedom were at hand.
    At the head of the table, Epostian Creeg gestured with his left hand, his first two fingers raised to the ceiling as he extolled the virtues of the next course. Korm didn’t pay attention to his words, but rather focused on the man’s meticulous appearance. Dressed in a supple white leather suit cut to the latest fashion and accented by a brilliant red flower in the buttonhole of his left breast pocket, Creeg appeared every bit the royal attendant he was. His short blond hair was freshly trimmed, his smooth skin without a hint of dirt or blemish. Like his beautiful dishes, every aspect of his demeanor and dress seemed perfectly arranged to impress.
    A massive symbol imprinted on the wall behind Creeg framed the alchemist in a perfect circle, between two diagonal lines that suggested a road disappearing over the horizon. The image reminded Korm of the mystical symbols adorning the few alchemical reference works he’d perused in his travels, and the swordsman let out a soft snort as he decided that the pompous dandy had probably planned that, too. No doubt the alchemist fancied the dramatics of appearing to stand at the head of a long road leading to the infinite horizons of enlightenment. And then it hit him.
    He’d seen that symbol before.
    Creeg paused his presentation for a moment, and Korm decided it was his turn to speak. He turned to Iranez of the Orb.
    “If you sit on the Council of Quantium,” he asked matter-of-factly, “why does your dining chamber bear the seal of the Pathfinder Society?”
    Iranez raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. “You’ve encountered it?”
    “I was raised in Daggermark and spent my first two decades traveling up and down the River Road,” Korm said, trying not to sneer. “You’d be surprised by what I’ve encountered.”
    Iranez pursed her lips in a bemused expression, clearly unused to being chided by a social inferior.
    “Your travels serve you well,” she said. “The glyph is the mark of the vessel’s previous owner, a questing hero named Durvin Gest, one of the founders of that guild of explorers. He somehow infused the surface of the wall with the symbol, and no means arcane or otherwise can remove or obscure it. Believe me, I’ve tried. It is a