Free Blood Of Kings: The Shadow Mage by Paul Freeman

stew, roasted ducks, legs of mutton, platters of bread and cheeses, and silver jugs full to the brim with ruby-red wine.
    “Excellent. Show him in.” Lorian popped the whole egg into his mouth and sat back into a sea of cushions.
    “Lorian,” the man greeted his host as he walked calmly into the room. “No, no, don’t get up,” he said to the fat man. Lorian raised an eyebrow and grinned not giving any indication of attempting to extract himself from the mass of cushions surrounding him.
    “Sit, Aknell, I have had some refreshment prepared.”
    “Ha, your refreshments, my friend, would shame any of the emperor’s feasts,” Aknell answered, allowing his gaze to fall on the mountain of food before him. “Before I do, I have a small gift.”
    “A gift? For me?” Lorian beamed. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His eyes brimmed with unconcealed eagerness.
    “Oh, do not get too excited. It is merely a small token.” Aknell clapped his hands and turned towards the door. A tall fair-haired man walked through the doorway, his arms and shoulders rippled with power beneath a sleeveless leather vest. He held his head high with an arrogant sneer playing across his face.
    Lorian’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted over to where his own servant stood impassively. He was suddenly acutely aware of how far away his two armed guards were, even if it was just out in the hallway. There was something familiar about the pale-skinned northerner, he thought, once his initial panic subsided.
    “What have you brought me, my friend?” he asked, managing to recompose himself quickly.
    The big Nortman approached, his blond hair tied back from his head at the nape of his neck. He held out a polished wooden box caught between two powerful hands. Lorian glanced again at his servant. Although the man was little more than a body-servant, Lorian knew he had once been a warrior before his captivity. It gave him little comfort when the giant before him dominated the room so. Their eyes met; the fat man bit back his outrage at such impudence and looked away, his confidence overwhelmed by the burning arrogance in the pale blue of the other’s.
    He turned his attention to the box and lifted the lid. A jewel of sublime clarity sparkled on a velvet cloth. “It is beautiful,” he said as he gently fished it out by the chain of gold it was attached to. He reached out with a chubby finger, hesitant to touch such perfection… yet, he knew he must possess it.
    “This stone was mined from beneath Mount Draknoir and cut by the dark elves a thousand years before men walked on the surface of the world.” Aknell gently took the jewel from Lorian’s hands and eased the chain around the fat noble’s neck.
    “Elves?” Lorian chuckled.
    “I swear it is true.” Aknell smiled.
    “It is beautiful,” Lorian beamed as he clasped his hand around the gift now hanging from his neck. “But why…?”
    Aknell cut off the question with a raised hand. “A token of friendship, that is all.”
    “I have never seen its like.”
    “The dark elves are long gone but their treasures remain to amaze us yet.”
    “You do amuse me, Aknell but elves are nothing but tales for children. Elves, dragons and the magical knights who fought them should remain between the pages where they belong.”
    “As you say,” Aknell said smiling, before helping himself to a goblet of wine.
    “I recognise your new friend from the arena. I am thinking I may have been cheated out of a goodly sum of gold when last we met.”
    Aknell laughed then and patted Lorian on the shoulder. “Come, let us eat. I am famished. A jewel crafted with elf magic is worth far more than thirty gold crowns.”
    Lorian scowled but relented and helped himself to a whole roasted fowl. “So tell me,” he said as he tore soft white flesh from the bones of the bird, “how is it you are in possession of such a prize as an arena fighter? Not just any but the most talked about fighter in