Limits Read Free

for sale. I was wondering what I could sell, to buy some of that beef, when these two found me at the dock.”
    “Was it you they were looking for?”
    “I think so. The lady Durily is of the old Minterl nobility, judging by her accent. Karskon speaks Minterl but he might be of the new nobility, the invaders from Torov. Odd to find them together—”
    “You didn’t trust them. Why did you deal with them?”
    Thone smiled. “Their offer. The fame of Rordray’s Attic has spread throughout Minterl, so they say. They want a place to honeymoon; they had married that same day. For two weeks’ stay they offered…well, enough to buy four sides of ox and enough left over to trade Strandhugger in on a larger boat, large enough for the beef and two extra passengers.”
    “Where are they now? And where’s the beef?”
    “I told…eep. It’s still aboard.”
    Rordray roared. “Arilta!”
    “I meant to tell Estrayle to do something about that, but it—”
    “Never mind, you’ve done well.”
    Arilta came hurrying from the restaurant area. Rordray’s wife resembled her husband to some extent: big-boned, heavy, placid of disposition, carrying her weight well. “What is it?”
    “Set the boys to unloading the new boat. Four sides of beef. Get those into the meatbox fast; they can take their time with the other goods.”
    She left, calling loudly for the boys. Rordray said, “The guests?”
    “I gave them the two leeward rooms, as a suite.”
    “Good. Why don’t you tell them dinner is being served? And then you can have your own meal.”
     
    The dining hall was a roar of voices, but when Rordray’s guests appeared the noise dropped markedly. Both were wearing court dress of a style which had not yet reached the provinces. The man was imposing in black and silver, with a figured silver patch over his right eye. The lady was eerily beautiful, dressed in flowing sea-green, and a thumblength taller than her escort. They were conversation stoppers, and they knew it.
    And here a man came hurrying to greet them, clapping his hands in d e light. “Lady Durily, Lord Karskon? I am Rordray. Are your quarters co m fortable? Most of the middle floor is empty, we can offer a variety of choices—”
    “Quite comfortable, thank you,” Karskon said. Rordray had taken him by surprise. Rumor said that Rordray was a were-lion. He was large, and his short reddish-blond hair might be the color of a lion’s mane; but Rordray was balding on top, and smooth-shaven, and well-fed, with a round and happy face. He looked far from ferocious—
    “Rordray! Bring ’em here!”
    Rordray looked around, disconcerted. “I have an empty table in the corner, but if you would prefer Merle’s company…?”
    The man who had called was tremendous. The huge platter before him bore an entire swordfish fillet. Durily stared in what might have been awe or admiration. “Merle, by all means! And can you be persuaded to join us?”
    “I would be delighted.” Rordray escorted them to the huge man’s table and seated them. “The swordfish is good—”
    “The swordfish is wonderfu l ! ” Merle boomed. He’d made amazing progress with the half-swordfish while they were approaching. “It’s baked with apricots and slivered nuts and…something else, I can’t tell. Rordray?”
    “The nuts are soaked in a liqueur called brosa , from Rynildissen, and dried in the oven.”
    “I’ll try it,” Karskon said, and Durily nodded. Rordray disappeared into the kitchen.
    The noise level was rising toward its previous pitch. Durily raised her voice just high enough. “Most of you seem to be fishers. It must have been hard for you after the merpeople went away.”
    “It was, Lady. They had to learn to catch their own fish instead of tra d ing. All the techniques had to be invented from scratch. They tell me they tried magic at first. To breathe water, you know. Some of them drowned. Then came fishing-spears, and special boats, and nets—”
    “You said