Read The Two of Swords: Part 7 for Free Online

day for a long time, you became immune; so that, if you then swallowed a full, lethal dose, it wouldn’t hurt you at all. A food taster held the power of life and death over his master. Three times a day he had means and opportunity. After all, why had all the emperors since Azalo worn beards? Because nobody could be trusted to hold a sharp edge to the emperor’s throat.
    …
afford to the said Pleda any and all goods, monies, service, assistance and facilitation whatsoever that he may require of you notwithstanding any contrary orders and provisions, express, statutory or customary …
    His hand ached from writing – clerk’s job, but he couldn’t trust those damned fools to get it right, the wording had to be exact; if a thing’s worth doing, do it yourself. Everyone had always agreed, even his enemies, even his father, that he had exceptionally good, clear handwriting. Should’ve been a clerk, they sneered, more use in the scriveners’ office than on the throne. Well; they had a point.
    Pleda dropped in to say goodbye. He was a sad sight. He’d wrapped himself up in coats and scarves and mittens until only his eyes and nose were visible (it was an unusually warm day, as it happened). He looked like a child’s toy.
    “Look after yourself,” Glauca said. “I need you back here in one piece, understood?”
    “Same to you,” came a voice from deep inside the insulation. “I told Raxival, you take bloody good care, and don’t listen to him if he says it’s all right, he’ll chance it. Let him know who’s the boss, I told him.”
    Glauca laughed. “That I believe,” he said. He dug in the pocket of his gown and pulled out a purse. Fifty angels. “Buy yourself a few decent meals,” he said. “Keep out the cold.”
    Pleda took the purse, glanced at it and shoved it away in a pocket. “I don’t like foreign food,” he said. “Doesn’t agree with me.”