The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha)

The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha) Read Free Page B

Book: The Paths of the Dead (Viscount of Adrilankha) Read Free
Author: Steven Brust
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body that occupied the table’s other chair. Presuming that this other individual was in no condition to object to company, the traveler at once seated himself, and set about considering how to acquire for himself something to drink.
    Several moments passed, during which our friend became acclimated to the warmth of the room, and the atmosphere, in which humanity commingled with stale wine and the sweet harshness of burning tobacco leaves, inhaled for their mild euphoric effect by many of the patrons. Eventually, a portly woman carrying a tray full of glasses came by, and, before the young man could speak, set down before him a mug of wine that was so dark as to be almost black. He accepted it in the spirit of inquiry, and paid for it with a coin that the hostess looked at carefully before accepting. She hurried on, and he tasted the wine, finding it to be very dry and acidic. Though hardly a connoisseur, he did have something of a palate, and winced slightly at the taste.
    “You should,” said someone, “have asked for the reserve. It costs only a little more, and is not nearly so harsh, with a not unpleasant peppery aftertaste. Or, better yet, the brandy, which, while falling short of excellent, has the virtue of quickly causing the drinker to stop caring about such niceties as taste.” We should explain that brandy is what the Easterners call that class of wine which is distilled after being fermented; that they have a special name for this drink may, indeed, give us several significant clues about the Eastern culture, but now would not be the time for this discussion, interesting though it might be.
    It took the traveler a moment to identify the speaker, but
eventually he realized that it was none other than his companion at the table, whom he had taken to be asleep. Though this individual had not moved, his eyes were open, and he gave no appearance of intoxication; nor did he slur his speech, though he spoke Olakiska, the language of the district, with an odd rhythm, rather like a horse about to jump an obstacle, then suddenly stopping and reconsidering the affair, and continuing in this manner throughout the length of the sentence.
    Notwithstanding the odd speech, which meant only that the speaker was, like so many others, not native to the region, the traveler replied politely, saying, “I thank you for your advice, and will avail myself of it the next time our good hostess passes by.”
    “You are most welcome,” said the other, still not moving. “Might I inquire as to your name?”
    “You may, indeed, inquire, but, alas, I cannot tell you.”
    “How, you cannot tell me?”
    “I’m afraid that I cannot”
    “You will pardon me if I find that singular.”
    “Well,” said the traveler, “there is an explanation.”
    “Ah, well, that is less astonishing. And will you give me this explanation?”
    “Certainly, and this is it, then: I cannot tell you my name, because I am traveling to find it.”
    We should note that, during this entire conversation, our friend’s companion had not stirred from his position of resting his head upon his arm, and his arm upon the table. Upon hearing this, however, he lifted his head, showing a trim mustache, a few strands of hair upon a strong chin, a thin, narrow face with deep-set eyes, and a small mouth, all of which were framed, as it were, by masses of curly black hair tumbling down to his shoulders. He then said, “Ah. I comprehend.”
    “How, you comprehend?”
    “Yes. You are training in the arts of the warlock.”
    “You have understood me exactly.”
    “That is hardly surprising; I have been acquainted with warlocks before. My name is Miska.”
    “How do you do, Miska?”
    “I am, to my deep regret, entirely sober. This is because I do not have sufficient coinage to remedy the condition. If you
would be good enough to buy me a drink, I will repay you by giving you a name.”
    “As to giving me a name, well, that may not be as simple as you pretend. Yet

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