Read Master and Fool for Free Online

pudding, and bread. As
they turned onto the street that boasted the Brimming Bucket, Nabber risked a
quick glance sideways. Baralis did not look happy. In fact, he looked rather
venomous, his features no more than a pale insignificance when compared to the
darkness of his eyes. Nabber sniffed solemnly. He hoped Maybor knew what he was
doing.
    The Brimming
Bucket was lit up in anticipation of the night. Smoke and candlelight escaped
from the shutters and the boldly painted sign creaked brightly in the wind.
Nabber noticed a man standing by the door; his right hand was resting inside
his tunic and, after one quick scope of the two of them, he directed his gaze
toward the floor. A lookout, no doubt set to watch by Maybor. Well, he
certainly could have been more discreet about it. Nabber doubted very much that
the man's purpose had gone unnoticed by Baralis.
    "Here we
are," said Nabber, hoping to distract Baralis' thoughts away from the
lookout. "Maybor is waiting for you inside."
    Baralis nodded
once. "I know."
    Inside he went.
Poorly rendered tallow gave off smoke that stung his eyes. He was all senses, a
being purely of perception: if there was danger he would search it out. Even
before his eyes grew accustomed to the smoke he had eliminated sorcery as a
threat. He was the only one in the room with power beyond flesh. The knowledge
brought confidence in its wake. No matter what happened now, he would be able
to deal with it.
    Baralis looked
around the room. Thirty pairs of eyes were gazing upon him. The floor was awash
with slowly souring ale: the tavern reeked of it. Maybor was sitting at a lower
level in front of the fire, and Baralis didn't spot him at first. Silhouetted
against the light, Maybor stood up and beckoned him forth. Baralis crossed the
room and stepped down into the enclosed space of the fire-well. Two other men
sat there: old men who drew in their chairs when Baralis entered their domain.
Unlike the rest of the tavern floor, which was raised off the ground and paved,
the floor in the fire-well consisted purely of packed-down earth. It was even
wetter than above, and the old men sat crosslegged, one foot apiece resting in
the pool of ale.
    "Aah,
Baralis," said Maybor, with an expansive sweep of his arm. "I'm so
pleased you could come."
    "Cut to the
meat, Maybor," hissed Baralis.
    "As charming
as ever, I see." Maybor sat down. When Baralis made no motion to sit, he
said, "Stay where you are and you give me no choice but to shout my news
all over the tavern."
    "News!" Baralis' voice was scathing. "The petty intelligences of a fugitive on
the run do not count as news to me." Maybor was not in the least affected
by this tirade. Calmly he drummed his fingertips against the wood. "If you
didn't come here to listen to what I have to say, then I am forced to conclude
that you came to see my handsome face, instead."
    "As ugly as your
face is, Maybor, it still might be the greatest of your charms."
    Maybor beamed.
"I'm glad you think so, as I'm hoping to pass my features down in the
blood."
    Baralis felt the
skin on his cheeks flush. He had a sudden, overpowering sensation of foreboding.
As his stomach constricted, the world shifted and refocused. The Brimming
Bucket turned from tavern to snake pit. Maybor changed from drunken fool to
fiend. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean, my
dear Baralis, that in less than seven months time I shall be a grandfather.
Melliandra is with child and-"
    "No!"
    "Oh, yes. The
child is the duke's. The marriage was consummated."
    "You are
lying."
    "Why,
Baralis, you're trembling. I thought you would be pleased."
    Baralis, annoyed
at showing weakness, drew breath before moving close to Maybor. "Your
daughter is a whore who has rutted with every man who crossed her path. Don't
expect either me or the good people of Bren to believe a single word of what
you say."
    Maybor reached out
and grabbed Baralis' robe close to the throat. "My daughter was a virgin
when she married the duke."
    Baralis was