Simon Hawke - The Outcast

“Not yet, but I was going to take a room at the inn at the far end of the street”

“That pestilential hole? If you are not murdered in your sleep, you will be devoured by the vermin. I will offer you one of the rooms on the upper floor, which I reserve for my special patrons. You may have your meals as well, or take them elsewhere if you like, but you will not find better food than my kitchens prepare. And your tigone is welcome to stay with you, though you will be charged for any damage it may cause.”

“Your offer is very generous,” said Sorak. “But what must I do to make amends on my part?”

“In return, during the time that you are on the premises, frequent the tables and play as many of the games as possible. The card games, in particular. Professional gamblers find it easier to cheat at those. The house will stake you in your play, and you may keep half of your winnings.”

“I see,” said Sorak. “In other words, it is all right for your patrons to be cheated, so long as it is only you who cheats them.”

“I am not in this business to lose money,” Krysta said. “I do not mind if my patrons win occasionally, but I do not wish to see anyone win too much. And if they do, it is probably because they have found some way to cheat successfully. The odds always favor the house, but from time to time, magic-users, card-sharps, and psionicists can be a problem. I can always use some help in that regard.”

“And at the same time, it would be easier for you to keep an eye on me for Rikus,” Sorak said with a smile.

“True,” she replied, “but if you have nothing to hide, why should that concern you? Rikus only cares about the security of Tyr and the stability of the government. So long as you do nothing to threaten that, he does not really care what else you do.”

“But you must realize that my aim is to make contact with the Veiled Alliance,” Sorak said. “Once my business with them is concluded, I shall be on my way. I have no desire to remain in Tyr any longer than is necessary.”

“The best place for you to make contact with the Veiled Alliance is right here in the elven market,” Krysta replied. “I can help you to the point of making some discreet inquiries, but beyond that, you will be on your own. I do not wish to involve myself. As for the duration of your stay, that is entirely up to you. However, for as long as you remain here, why not take advantage of a situation that can serve both our interests? So, what is your answer?”

“I accept,” said Sorak.

“Good. I shall have a room prepared for you, and I will summon my half-giants to carry your pet there. It will sleep until at least tomorrow morning, I should think. However, you will find that keeping a wild beast in the city will present certain difficulties. Can you control it to the extent that it does not damage the premises or attack any of my staff?”

“I will make sure of that,” said Sorak.

“You are certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“It is not merely a matter of the tigone being psionic and obeying because it has a bond with you, is it?” Krysta said, watching him with interest. “You possess the power to communicate with beasts.”

“Yes.”

“You can make them do your will?”

“Most of them,” said Sorak.

“Fascinating,” Krysta said. “Then that makes for at least three psionic powers you possess,” she said. “How many others?”

Sorak did not reply.

Krysta stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and said, “Very well, I shall not pry. I will have your room prepared for you. In the meantime, perhaps you would care to join me at my table for some supper?”

The dining room of the Crystal Spider was on the first floor, through an archway and down a corridor near the back of the main room. A thick brick wall separated it from the gaming hall and kept out most of the noise. What faint sounds might have managed to filter through were masked by the musicians, who played softly on ryl pipes while the patrons ate. The tables and chairs were made of polished, dark agafari wood, and the floor was hand-laid ceramic tile. Heavy support columns held up the beamed and plastered ceiling, and there were numerous small, arched niches in the walls for candles. The atmosphere in the dining room was subdued and refined, for only the wealthiest of patrons could afford its prices.

Even though it was quite late, the dining room was full. Outside, merely a stone’s throw away, beggars huddled in the street, pulling their filthy cloaks around them against the night chill, or burrowing in the refuse in an effort to keep warm and find some scraps to eat. Here, behind a stout wall, the wealthy citizens of Tyr supped on the finest cuisine between rounds of gaming, in which they casually wagered sums that would have kept those poor beggars fed for months.

Krysta’s private table was located in a secluded alcove that lay up a short flight of steps and through an archway with a beaded curtain. Sorak noticed that all the serving women were young and uniformly lovely. Krysta apparently had no concerns about suffering in comparison with any of them. Every head turned when she walked into the room on Sorak’s arm and led him to her private alcove.

“What may I tempt you with?” she asked him when they sat down. “My cooks are the finest in the city. I can recommend the braised z’tal with wine sauce, or baked cloud ray with spiced erdland eggs in jelly. If you would care for something simpler, we have the finest mekillot steaks in all of Tyr.”

“Could I have some vegetables?”

“Vegetables?” said Krysta, her eyes widening with surprise.

I do not eat meat,” Sorak replied.

“The mekillot steak sounds tempting,” said Kivara, and her hunger for meat activated Sorak’s salivary glands.

“I have never tasted cloud ray,” Eyron added, filling Sorak with curiosity about the experience. Sorak resolutely ignored them. “How can you not eat meat?” asked Krysta with astonishment. “Both elves and halflings are hunters who eat flesh.”

“It is simply my choice,” said Sorak, trying not to think about the carnivorous members of the tribe, who preferred their meat raw and freshly killed, with the blood still warm. “I was raised in the ways of the villichi, who are vegetarian.”

Krysta sighed. “I stock my larder with the finest meats and delicacies money can buy, and all you want are vegetables.”

“And some bread and water, please.” Krysta shook her head with resignation. “As you wish.” She gave the order to the serving girl, asking for some steamed vegetables for Sorak and braised z’tal for herself. Their goblets were filled, hers with mead and Sorak’s with chilled water, and a basket of fresh-baked bread was brought to them, still warm from the ovens.

“So,” she asked after toasting him with her goblet, “what was it like, being the only male in a convent full of women?”

“I felt like an outsider, at first,” Sorak replied, “but the sisters soon came to accept me.”

“The sisters,” Krysta said with a knowing smile. “How quaint. Is that really how you thought of them?”

That is how they refer to one another,” he replied. “And it is more than merely a polite form of address. We were all like family. I shall miss them.”

“You mean you do not plan on going back?” Sorak shook his head. “I know I would always be welcome there, but no. Though I have lived with them, and trained with them, and grown up in the Way, I am not villichi. The time has come for me to find my own way in the world, and I do not think I • shall return.”

“So then you do not think of yourself as one of them?” asked Krysta.

“No,” he said. “I do not belong there. For that matter, I do not know if I belong anywhere. The halflings could never accept me because I am part elf, and the elves could never accept me because I am part halfling. I do not even know if there is another such as I.”