Free Book 2 - Lord of the Silent Kingdom by Glen Cook Page A

Somebody knows where the place is."
    "Good. It's late. We need to get off the street."
    Pella came back. "Your Honors didn't have it right. It's the House
of the Ten Galleons."
    "That makes more sense. Here."
    "My sister would make you a better deal."
    Hecht recalled the boy offering his sister on the quayside. "Another
tie to the poem. I take it the House of the Ten Galleons is a sporting
house."
    Pella nodded, not conceding the possibility that his charges would
be unaware of that fact.
    Ghort observed, "An interesting place to find our friend."
    "Indeed." Members of the Brotherhood took the same vow of celibacy
as less warlike priests. But the Brotherhood tried to observe its vows.
All of them. Which was a source of frequent and abiding friction with
the rest of the Church.
    "We'll think about your sister later," Hecht said. "We need to see a
man who lives at the House of the Ten Galleons."
    "Really? He must be a eunuch, Your Honor."
    "Show us where."
    Pella showed. Ghort gave him a coin and told him to wait. "We'll be
right back out. We'll need you some more." Once they were away, he
asked, "We will be right back out, won't we? You didn't get any special
instructions in that mess, did you?"
    "Just to give the packet to a man named Beomond. Using a set of
signs and countersigns."
    "What's he look like?"
    "Six and a half feet tall, almost as wide, with a big scar on his
face. Plus a wine stain birthmark that starts on his left cheek and
runs down his throat and under his shirt."
    "Sounds like a beauty. Good evening, sir," Ghort told the man who
responded to their knock.
    Hecht offered, "We came from Heber," which was the formula included
in his instructions.
    "Confuckinggratulations. Show me some silver."
    That was not the appropriate response.
    A small, high voice piped, "Out of the way, Tiny."
    Tiny moved. A truly tiny, wrinkled old woman whose coloring
suggested origins far to the east stepped forward. "Where are you
from?" Her Firaldian was flawless, with a Sonsan accent. She must be a
Chaldarean refugee from the Kaifate of Qasr al-Zed. There were
countless pockets of non-Episcopal Chaldareans scattered around the
Realm of Peace.
    "Heber."
    "Welcome, countrymen. Come in. Can I offer you refreshments?"
    "Coffee, perhaps." All part of the sign-countersign, but here the
old woman broke the rhythm. "We can't afford coffee anymore. Business
has been bad lately."
    "I'm sorry to hear that." Hecht knew that was the sort of complaint
an eavesdropper would expect to hear. "Whatever's convenient, then."
    "Wine would hit the spot," Ghort said.
    Hecht scowled. Ghort was far too fond of wine. But to say so would
be dangerous. All westerners drank wine, many to excess.
    Hecht asked, "Is my cousin Beomond here? My uncle wanted us to bring
him his birthday gift."
    Tiny held out a hand. Hecht ignored it. The old woman told him, "Go
wake him up." She continued a frank examination of the visitors.
"You're finally catching on how to look like regular people."
    Hecht did not understand. Ghort replied, "It's a gift. Some got it.
Some don't. Me an' Matt, we're natural-born talents. In fact, Matt
really was regular people, once upon a time."
    A great, sloppy, jiggling mountain of a man appeared, rubbing sleep
out of his eyes. He was naked to the waist. The wine stain birthmark
extended down his chest to the level of his heart.
    Ghort said, "Cousin Beo has been living large since we seen him
last."
    Hecht released a blurt of nervous laughter. Because what Ghort said
was true. The man had gotten fatter since last Hecht had seen him, in
Runch, working as a porter in the Sonsan factor house. He had lacked
the scar, then. And the birthmark had not been obvious in the poor
light of the factor house. His name was Goydar back then.
    He was drunk. He squinted at Hecht. "I seen you somewhere before."
    "I'm your cousin, Mathis. Matt. I brought a birthday present from
your father. I wanted to hand it over. We're in kind of a hurry. We
have other