Book of Words by Glynne Jones

Author:Glynne Jones [Jones, Glynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Language Arts & Disciplines, Linguistics, Fiction, Reference, English Language, Word Lists, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Vocabulary, Etymology
ISBN: 9780785824480
Publisher: Book Sales, Inc.
Published: 2008-08-30T06:00:00+00:00

• • •

Tavalisk was eating otters. Sea otters, to be exact. Such adorable furry creatures and so tender when caught fresh from the womb. These ones had been caught by a master: no club marks to mar their fragile skulls. They must have been smothered, and carefully at that. The rocky coastline just north of Toolay was the only place these rare creatures existed. According to the men that caught them, their numbers grew less each passing year. The archbishop didn’t believe a word; it was all a ploy to up the cost. Take these six beauties here: nearly a gold apiece at current market prices. It was nothing short of outrageous! Still, little was wasted. He intended to have a fine collar made from their pelts.

Oh, but they were succulent, though. All one had to do was hold a bone in the mouth and suck; the flesh came off more quickly than a cleric’s robe in a brothel. All things considered, it was rather a strange-tasting meat: a little salty, a little fishy, a little piquant on the tongue. In fact, it wasn’t really to his liking; but it was expensive. Sometimes that was all that counted.

There was a knock at the door and in walked Gamil. He was carrying a wax-sealed letter. “This has just arrived by fast messenger, Your Eminence. It’s come all the way from Bren.”

As Gamil leaned over him to hand him the letter, Tavalisk took hold of his assistant’s robe and used it to wipe the grease from his hands. Gamil had little choice but to ignore the indignity.

“Aah,” said Tavalisk, breaking the seal. “It’s from our friend Lord Maybor. My letter must have been forwarded to him in Bren.” He raced through the spidery script. “The man writes like a blind monk. Hmm, he’s still in our corner, though he is urging caution, he says—” Tavalisk read from the letter “‘. . . there are ways to rid ourselves of the dark villain without opposing the match.’ He’s obviously afraid that if he comes out openly against the marriage, then his lands and position will be endangered, which of course they will. Kylock as sovereign could hardly let one of his subjects brazenly flout his wishes.”

Tavalisk read on. “Maybor is basically asking me if there is any way I can use my influences to have Baralis killed: ‘You are a great man, with contacts throughout the Known Lands, you must know someone in Bren who could do the deed.’ ” The archbishop broke into a high, tinkling laugh. “No. No, my dear Maybor. I’m not falling for that one. There’ll be snow on the drylands before I do another man’s dirty work for him.”

“I don’t understand, Your Eminence,” said Gamil.

“I am surrounded by fools!” Although he sounded annoyed, Tavalisk was really rather pleased by the statement: rather fools than foxes. “Maybor is a self-serving coward. He probably has some personal vendetta against Baralis and thinks he can use me to settle it for him.

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