Read Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 for Free Online Page B

a brisk tattoo in concert. Even though Damian treated her well, since she'd been sold into slavery the only man who had protected her from anything was this unlikely Northman.
    “Thank you,” she finally managed to say. One corner of Erik's mouth lifted in a half smile even as his eyes narrowed in speculation. He showed no sign of releasing her. Valdis wondered if, in his own way, the big Varangian wasn't more dangerous than the great cats.
    Damian gave an order and Erik slowly stepped back. She tucked her hand into the crook of the eunuch's elbow, feeling as if she'd escaped peril twice in as many heartbeats.
    Street vendors hawked their wares with singsong cadence as the crowd surged toward the Hippodrome.
    “Hold a moment,” Erik said when they passed a particularly aromatic stall. “Palace food will keep a body and soul together, but you've not known the taste of Miklagard till you've tried
pastfeli.”
    The eunuch made complaining noises.
    “He's concerned we'll arrive after the race is over if we stop for every sweetmeat seller on the Mese,” Erik explained, then barked a few syllables in Damian's direction. “He wants you to learn. I told him language is more than words. It's a people's whole experience and this is one you won't want to miss.” Erik signaled his order to the merchant and fished the appropriate payment from his leather pouch. He offered her a glistening bite. “Try this, Valdis. After that scare, you look pale. You need to eat something.”
    She hesitantly parted her lips and when he placed the
pastfeli
on her tongue she felt as though a ray of sunshine had dissolved in her mouth. She savored the sweetness of honey and detected the flavor of sesame seeds and orange as well. She licked her lips and asked for more.
    “In Greek,” he said, cocking his head at her.
    She stumbled through the correct phrase and was rewarded with a square of
pastfeli
served on a broad grape leaf. A bit of the treat slipped through her sticky fingers and dropped to the paving stones. A small furry body darted through the forest of legs and slurped it up before the honey could settle into the cracks. It was a scruffy little black dog, its snarled hair falling in wisps around its thin body. The tiny creature reared up on its haunches and pawed the air like a miniature stallion, begging for more.
    “Looks like you've attracted a rat,” Erik said with a laugh at the dog's antics.
    “It's not a rat.” Valdis frowned at him, then knelt and let the animal lick her fingers clean. It shied when she tried to pet it. “But I've never seen such a small dog. What kind is it?”
    Erik shrugged and relayed her question to the Greek.
    “Something crossed with a Maltese. Probably covered with vermin,” Damian said, grasping her elbow with firmness. “Come.”
    With reluctance, Valdis let herself be led along, but when she glanced back, the dog followed, skittering between the multitude of feet. Then they entered the broad gate that led to the Hippodrome and Valdis forgot about the dog.
    Even in her dreams she'd never imagined such a massive structure. They passed through a vaulted tunnel and emerged near the low wall separating the spectators from a large oval track. A
spina
ran through the middle of the arena, studded with statuary, bronze equines, ample naked women and well-endowed men, and spiked with obelisks at intervals. From the lowest tiers of seating, Valdis looked up as rank upon rank, the simple benches gave way to porticos and private boxes. Halfway to the heavens, the outer walls of the Hippodrome coliseum curved in, offering shade to the most desirable seating. Pennants stood at attention along the ridgeline. Valdis imagined even Valhalla, the great hall reserved for the glorious dead, would fit snugly into one end of the sand-covered arena floor.
    Damian gestured for her to follow and she climbed toward the dizzying heights. The crowd was awash in colors—verdant, cerulean, jet and dazzling white—