Read Love And War for Free Online Page B

nodded. Seron got to his feet and opened the door. “What did I do, roust you two out
     of bed?” roared Seron's brother, Long-Chin Cheb. “What took you so long to open up? It's not as if you had so far
     to go to reach the door,” he added, glancing disdainfully at the walls of the tiny hut.
    “We . . . we didn't expect to see you,” said Seron, catching his breath. “This is quite a
     surprise. What brings you to Flotsam? Is - is anything wrong?”
    “Must something be wrong for me to visit my only family?”
    “Seron didn't mean that,” piped up Kyra in her husband's defense. “He's glad to see you,
     just as I am.”
    Cheb smiled at his sister-in-law. “That's nice of you to say. And let me tell you, you're
     still a pleasure to look at,” he added. “I've always said, my brother's done an awful lot
     of foolish things in his life, but marrying you wasn't one of them.”
    To accept the compliment was also to accept the slap at her husband, and that Kyra would
     not do. She simply nodded curtly and offered her brother-in-law a chair at the table.
    He was dressed like a prince, but his clothes looked better than he did. His face was long
     and sallow, with deep- set green eyes that gave him a cadaverous, if mesmerizing,
     appearance.
    As Cheb strutted through the doorway, Seron nervously glanced out the window into the
     deepening twilight. Tosch would not show himself if he saw a third person in the hut; they
     had to get rid of Cheb. Assuming, that is, that Tosch was actually coming. “You'll be glad I made this surprise visit,” Seron's brother announced grandly, “when you hear what I have to say. But first - ” he dropped his
     satchel to the floor and plopped down into the most comfortable chair in the house - “pour
     me some ale, girl.”
    When she returned with a full mug, he winked and said, “A barmaid never forgets her craft.”
    Kyra stepped across the room to stand with her hus band. “You said you had news,” she said
     coolly.
    The older man downed the mug of ale in one long draught. “Good for what ails you,” he
     said. Then he laughed. “Hey, I made a joke. 'Good for what ALE'S you.' Get it?”
    “The news?” asked Seron.
    “Of course. You must be anxious to hear it. It's obviously clear,” he added gesturing at
     their home, “that you're in need of glad tidings. Well,” he continued, “one day, lo and
     behold, I received a request for twenty paintings from a wealthy man who wanted to
     decorate his new home with an artistic touch. Naturally, he didn't want to pay very much,
     but we managed to settle on a fair price. Of course, I never told him that I had a brother
     who was a painter. Nor did I tell him that this brother of mine had a hut overflowing with
     his unsold works of art.”
    “At what price did you propose this sale of my paintings?” asked Seron.
    “Never mind the price,” Cheb said with a wave of his hand. “It isn't important. All you
     need to know is that I will take twenty of your paintings - of my choosing - and give you
     five percent of everything I make.”
    Seron physically flinched at his brother's words. Though he could almost feel the knife
     wound of betrayal, he fought his temper and quietly said, “Forgive me if I choose to
     ignore this opportunity. I know how you made your fortune - buying unsold goods at a
     fraction of their cost in one city and then selling them at a generous markup somewhere
     else. You're entitled to your profits, but five percent of twenty paintings means I'm
     giving nineteen away for free. No, thank you.”
    “Come now,” said Cheb. “Don't be foolish. This is money in your pocket. Why hesitate? You
     can't sell this stuff, anyway. Might as well let me take it off your hands.”
    Seron was silent. He had turned away to look out the window, then glanced back at Kyra.
     “What do you think?” he asked.
    “I say no,” she said with firm resolution. “Someday soon,” she