Wistril Compleat by Frank Tuttle

Author:Frank Tuttle [Tuttle, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781458190055
Amazon: B0028K2T54
Barnesnoble: B0028K2T54
Goodreads: 21607589
Publisher: Frank Tuttle
Published: 2001-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Kern sat uneasy in his chair and picked at his food with his five-tined victual fork. He resisted the urge to peer about at the Hall, in appreciation of Wistril's glamour spell; the Baron can't see me gawking, thought Kern, if he is to believe I see this every day.

Though in truth, mused Kern, I've never seen anything like this. Oh, the true Hall is pleasant enough, in a plain, well-scrubbed sort of way -- but now it looks like the court of the High King himself. Gold candlesticks, silver chandeliers? Master, wondered Kern -- are you perhaps overdoing this just a bit?

Kern frowned. Though the Hall was rendered gold-plated and splendid by Wistril's spell, the food was, reflected Kern, unusually spare. Beef, boiled yet tough and hardly seasoned; chunks of potatoes in a thick beef stock, and a helping of wilted, chewy green beans that bore the tinny flavor of vegetables too long in a jar.

Not once could Kern recall such a poor table set at Kauph. Not even for wandering tradesmen, or the time both Wistril and Cook had fallen ill and Kern and Sir Knobby had manned the kitchen; even we knew better than to boil beef without a bit of salt, he thought.

The Baron chewed and smacked and wiped his lips with apparent gusto, though, as did his men. All except the wizard, who had yet to lift his hands above the table to pick up a fork.

Kern's eyes darted about the table. Wistril ate slowly, his expression pained, and more than once Kern caught Wistril stealing glances at the Carthrop wizard, as well.

The wizard, whom the Baron had introduced as Herthmore, was robed and cowled, and sat so that his hood fell over most of his face. Kern hadn't seen the man's eyes, or his nose. But Kern did see the sickly yellow cast the man's skin, and the sheen of old sweat that covered it. The wizard wore a chin-beard in the fashion of Eastern sorcerers, and by watching the movements of bits of old food lodged in the whiskers Kern could tell the wizard mumbled constantly while leaning over his plate.

Even so, the wizard's words sounded no further than his cowl, and the party ate without conversation, until at last the Barn threw down his fork and knife and shoved his plate roughly away.

"The wine makes the meal, I always say," boomed the Baron, to Wistril. "Mayhap a better vintage than this --" he motioned with his half-full wine-glass, sloshing wine out onto the wide oak dining table "-- will suffice to make apology for the rudeness of your fare."

Kern tensed, and as he did so the Baron's officers nearest him paled and looked quickly away.

Kern smiled. He'd sought out a mirror, as he dressed, and had seen himself revealed as a tall, cat-eyed vampire, with fangs that hung a full inch below his lip, and long white talons at the tip of every finger. Even as he had stared at his reflection, his eyes had narrowed, and had begun to glow a ruddy red in time with the beating of his heart.

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