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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] sweet stale mead, the clouds of rank duhanee, bitter ale, raw spirit, sweat, farts, body odor, particularly pungent because of the mix of races within the room. In a back comer of the room, surrounded by silence and space, two black clad men with the honey-gold faces of Shinka sat scowling at the others, at pale northards, amber shinkin a little nervous under the eyes of their countrymen, fenekeln dark as new-turned earth, scrawny unhappy majilarn brooding over kifals. There was a shout. Another fenekel who might have been Hekatoro's twin was pushing through the crowd and in a minute was pounding him on the back and shouting extrava-gant compliments. A slight figure slipped out past them, a skinny whey-faced, bulge-eyed northard. "Mus'U take you beasts around back and see the packs brought up." The words were a gentle murmur flanked by Olambaro's more boisterous questions and answers. He led them across the room, a shoving circuitous path around busy tables through the noisy throng moving between the bar and the tables. Af-ter a word with the man behind the bar the four of them Olambaro and Hekatoro trading stories in a dialect so thick and with allusions so personal they were incomprehensible, Hern and Serroi silent behind them the four of them went through an inconspicuous door at the bar's end and up a nar-row flight of stairs to a small tight room on the second floor. Olambaro held the door open, waved them in, then stood waiting while two silent grinning men brought in the packs from the beasts and deposited them on the floor by a low table. As they left he walked round the table, stepping care-fully among the scattered pillows, seated himself on a plump red silk cushion and waited till the others had seated them-selves. NoHooking at Hern and Serroi with fenekeli po-liteness, he said, "Beginning to think you weren't coming, cousin." "O-eh, a bit of this and that happening at the Hold." "Yah, so Pil Ando said. To anybody'd listen. Full of funny stories he was, a couple ears looked pleased to hear 'em, strangers, mean looking, you know what I mean." He shrugged. "Long as they don't be ductors, I figure I keep hands off. L'il Ando got hisself one damn good drunk outta it." A knock on the door cut off what he was saying. "Who?" "Silkar, Cap'n." Even muffled by the door the voice was harsh and unhuman. "Come." Olambaro's eyes slid momentarily to Hern and Serroi, his teeth flashing in a broad grin then vanished imme-diately into a dignified gravity. Serroi had to struggle not to stare at the man who came in. She'd grown accustomed to her own muted olive shade, but this one was scaled like a viper and green as the new leaves of spring. He wore a linked belt of beaten bronze with a needle-pointed bronze knife clipped to it, a short leather kilt and a heavy bronze medallion on a chain about his neck. Carrying a fat-bellied jug of wine, his long slender fingers hooked through the handles of four cups, he stepped around the pillows with a predator's lightness to set his burden on the table before Olambaro. When he straightened, he stared a long moment at Serroi, his glowing golden eyes Page 155 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html moving from her face to her hands and back, then he left the room with the same silent glide. The corners of his mouth twitching, Olambaro popped out the cork and poured wine in the cups. "The harvest, I hear, is beyond praise this year." He passed the cups to his guests, then sipped at the wine so they'd feel free to drink. 'True, yes true," Hekatoro murmured. He took a gulp of the wine then sat holding the cup at heart level. "Though the weather be some strange. I hope your passage down river did not prove too strenuous." He drank again, his dark eyes twin-kling. There was mischief even in the back of his neck and his brows were prancing up and down in time with his breathing. The Cousins were gently teasing their guests and at the same time gently sparring with each other. Serroi looked down at her hands. Her skin gleamed in the soft glow from the fine porcelain lamps bracketed about the walls; the glow also woke shimmers of green and red and blue from the cushion covers, kindled gleams in the hand-rubbed hardwood of the wall panels. In the comfortable warmth in several senses of that room Serroi was begin-ning to recover from the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |