Stone of Tears (65 page)

Warm air ascended the stairs from the dining room along with the buzz of the packed room. The aroma of roasting meats drifted in from the kitchen to mix pleasantly with the sweet tang of pipe smoke. Zedd rubbed his stomach as he descended the stairs, wondering if he might spare the time to sample a plate.

On the landing sat a tall basket holding three canes. Zedd pulled the most ornate, a straight, black cane with an elaborate head worked in silver, from the basket. He tapped the flamboyant cane on the wood landing, testing its length and heft. Seemed a tad heavy, he thought, but it would do as a proper accessory.

The proprietor, Master Hillman, a rotund man with his white shirtsleeves rolled up above his dimpled elbows and wearing a sparkling white apron, spied him as he reached the bottom of the steps and immediately rushed across the room, shoving men out of his way. The man’s round, pink cheeks plumped out farther as his small mouth spread with a familiar grin.

“Master Rybnik! So good to see you again!”

Zedd almost turned to see to whom the man was speaking before he remembered that was the name he had given. He had told the innkeeper that his name was Ruben Rybnik, and had given Adie’s name as Elda, saying she was his wife. Zedd had always favored the name Ruben. Ruben. He rolled the sound pleasantly through his mind. Ruben.

“Please, Master Hillman, call me Ruben.”

The man’s head bobbed. “Of course, Master Rybnik. Of course.”

Zedd held out the cane “I find I have need of a cane, of late. Could I convince you to part with this one?”

The man opened his arms in a wide gesture. “For you, Master Rybnik, anything. My nephew makes them, and I let him display them here for my discriminating guests. But this one is special, and costly.” He came forward at Zedd’s skeptical expression, lifting the cane. He leaned close to speak confidentially. “Let me demonstrate, Master Rybnik. I don’t show this to anyone. Might give them the wrong impression of my establishment, you know. Here. You see? You twist, and here at the silver band, it comes open.”

He separated the two parts a few inches to reveal a gleaming blade. “Nearly two feet of Keltish steel. Discreet protection for a gentleman. But I’m not sure that for your simple purposes you would want such a costly …”

Zedd pushed thin blade away and gave a twist, the finely worked mechanism emitting a soft click as the parts locked together. “It will do nicely. I like its looks. Not too flashy. Add the cost to my tally for the room.” Wealthy gentlemen weren’t supposed to ask the price.

Master Hillman bowed his head up and down. “Of course, Master Rybnik. Of course. And a fine choice, I might add. Quite dashing.” He wiped his clean, meaty hands on the apron’s corner and then held an arm out to the room. “May I offer you a table, Master Rybnik? Let me clear a table for you. I will have someone move. Let me see to it …”

“No, no.” Zedd gestured with his new cane. “That empty one in the corner, near the kitchen, will do splendidly.”

The man looked with worry to where Zedd had pointed. “There? Oh no, sir, please, let me get you a better table. Perhaps near the bard. You would like to hear a lively tune, I’m sure. He knows any tune you could name. Let me know your favorite and I will have him play it for you.”

Zedd leaned close and gave the man a wink. “I much prefer the wonderful aromas coming from your kitchen to the singing.”

Master Hillman beamed with pride and then swept his arm in the direction of the empty table, ushering Zedd toward it. “You do me such honor, Master Rybnik. I have never had anyone swoon over my cooking as do you. Let me get you a plate.”

“Ruben, please. Remember? And I would be delighted to sample a slice of that roast I smell.”

“Yes, Master Rybnik, of course.” Wringing the corner of his apron, he leaned over the table as Zedd sat against the wall. “How is Mistress Rybnik? I hope she is feeling better. I pray for her every day.”

Zedd sighed. “Much the same, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear, oh dear. I’m so sorry. I’ll continue to pray for her.” He started through the kitchen door. “Let me get you that plate of roast.”

Zedd leaned his new cane against the wall and removed his hat after the man had left, tossing it on the table. The balding bard sat on a stool on a small platform, hunched over his lute as if permanently deformed around it, strumming with vigor and singing a spirited song about the adventures of a wagon driver; his journey along bad roads from one bad town to another with bad food and worse women, and how he loved the challenge of steep hills and twisting passes, driving rain and blinding snow.

Zedd watched one man, alone in a booth against the wall across the room, roll his eyes and shake his head as he listened to one improbable adventure after another. A whip lay in a neat coil on the table before him. Other men, at tables, thought the song a proper tale, and thumped their mugs as they sang along. Some of the drunker men tried to pinch the smiling serving girls that swept past, but caught only air.

At other tables sat nattily dressed men and women, probably merchants and their wives, talking among themselves and ignoring the singing. Fashionable nobility, wearing gleaming swords, sat at a few tables off to the quieter side of the room. In an empty area between the Bard and the lone man in the booth, couples danced; some were serving girls and men who had paid them for the turn. Zedd noted with pique that while there were many men with hats, all the hats looked to be functional, and none were embellished with a feather.

Zedd reached into a pocket to count the gold coins. Two. He sighed. It was expensive playing the part of the wealthy. He didn’t know how even the wealthy could afford it. Well, he would just have to do something about that if he was to get transportation all the way to Nicobarese. He couldn’t have Adie riding that horse anymore; she was too weak.

Springing on light feet, Master Hillman swooped through the kitchen door. He set a gold rimmed white plate heaped with roasted lamb in front of Zedd, pausing before he straightened to return a finger to each edge of the plate and turn it just so. Quickly producing a clean towel, he buffed a spot off the tabletop. Zedd decided that although he was hungry, he had better eat carefully, lest Master Hillman whisk out to wipe his chin for him.

“May I bring you a mug of ale, Master Rybnik? On the house?”

“Please call me Ruben, that’s my name. A pot of tea would be splendid.”

“Of course, Master Rybnik, of course. Anything else I could do? Besides the pot of tea?”

Zedd leaned a little toward the center of the table. Master Hillman did the same. “What’s the current gold to silver exchange ratio?”

“Forty point five five to one,” he answered, ticking the numbers off without hesitation. He cleared his throat. “I believe. At least, that’s what I seem to remember.” He smiled apologetically. “I don’t keep track. But that’s what I believe it is. Forty point five five to one. Yes, I think that’s right.”

Zedd made a show of considering this. At last he pulled out one of his two gold coins and slid it with one finger across the table toward the proprietor.

“I seem to be short of smaller coinage. If you would be so kind, could you exchange this for me? And I would like it divided into two purses. From one take one silver and exchange it for copper, and put that in a third purse. And please keep the odd bits for the house?”

Master Hillman gave two quick, deep bows. “Of course, Master Rybnik, of course. And thank you.”

He swept the coin off the table so fast Zedd could scarcely see it go. After he left, Zedd dug into the lamb roast, watching the people and listening to the singing as he chewed. Near the end of the meal, Master Hillman was back, placing his broad, round back between Zedd and the crowd.

He set two small purses on the table. “The silver, Master Rybnik. Nineteen in the light brown one, and twenty in the dark.” Zedd slipped them into his robes as the other set a heavier, green purse down, sliding it across the table. “And the copper in this.”

Zedd smiled his thanks. “And the tea?”

The big man slapped his forehead. “Forgive me. In handling the exchange, I forgot.” One of the noblemen was waving a hand, trying to get his attention. He snagged the arm of a serving girl coming from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. “Julie! Fetch Master Rybnik a pot of tea. And quickly, dear.” She gave Zedd a smile and a nod before rushing on with her tray. Smiling, Hillman turned back. “Julie will see to it, Master Rybnik. If there is anything else I can do, please ask.”

“Why, yes. You could call me Ruben.”

Master Hillman chuckled absently and nodded. “Of course, Master Rybnik, of course.” He rushed off toward the nobleman.

Zedd cut another piece of lamb and stabbed it with his fork. He liked the name Ruben. He shouldn’t have told the man any more of it than that. While he pulled the meat off the tines with his teeth, he watched Julie cross the room, weaving between the crowded tables.

He chewed as he watched her plunk down mugs around a table of raucous men all wearing longcoats. As she set the last one before the last man, he said something to her. She had to lean over to hear above the din. The men suddenly burst into laughter. Julie straightened and thumped the man on the head with her tray. As she strutted away, he pinched her. She yelped but hurried on.

As she went past Zedd’s table, she leaned toward him and smiled. “I’ll be getting your tea for you right now, Master Rybnik.”

“It’s Ruben.” He flicked a finger toward the table of noisy men. “I saw what happened. Do you have to put up with that all the time?”

“Oh that’s just Oscar. He’s harmless, for the most part. But he has the foulest mouth I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard my share. Sometimes, I wish that when he opened his mouth to spew some of his filthy talk at me, he’d get the hiccups instead.” She huffed a wisp of hair back off her face. “And now he wants
another
mug. I’m sorry. I talk too much. I’ll get your tea, Master Ryb …”

“Ruben.”

“Ruben.” She gave him a pretty smile before hurrying off.

Eating while he waited, Zedd watched the table of noisy men. A small wish. What could it hurt? Julie returned with the tea and a cup. As she set them on the table, Zedd crooked his finger, urging her to bend closer.

She leaned over, tightening the apron strings behind her back as she did. “Yes, Ruben?”

The wizard gently touched a finger to the underside of her chin. “You are a very lovely woman, Julie. Oscar shouldn’t speak to you in foul language, or touch you again.” His voice lowered to a slow, powerful whisper that almost seemed to make the air sparkle. “When you give him his ale, speak his name, and look him in the eyes, as I look into yours now, and you shall have your wish as you have spoken it to me, but you won’t remember asking it, or that I have granted it.”

Julie blinked as she straightened. “I’m sorry, Ruben, what did you say?”

Zedd smiled. “I said thank you for the tea, and I asked if anyone here has a team of horses, and perhaps a carriage for hire.”

She blinked again. “Oh. Well …” She looked around as she pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. “Half the men in here, well, half the men who aren’t dressed as fine as you, are drivers. Some hire out. Some haul freight and are regulars, just passing through.” She pointed at a few tables. “They … and they, might hire out. If you can sober them up.”

Zedd thanked her and she went to get the ale. He watched as she carried it back across the room and set it in front of Oscar. He leered up at her with a drunken grin. She stared into his eyes. Zedd saw her lips speak his name. Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but hiccuped instead. A bubble floated from his mouth, up into the air. It popped. Everyone at the table erupted in laughter. Zedd’s brow pulled together in a frown as he watched. That’s odd, he thought.

Every time Oscar opened his mouth to speak to Julie, he hiccuped, and bubbles floated up. The men roared with laughter, accusing her of soaping his ale. They all agreed that if she had, it would serve him right. She left the men to their laughter when the lone man in the booth caught her attention. She nodded after he asked for something and then headed for the kitchen.

Julie paused at Zedd’s table, giving a nod back toward the lone man. “He might have a team. He smells more like a horse than a man.” She giggled. “That wasn’t kind. Forgive me. It’s just that I can’t get him to spend any money on ale. Just Tea. He wants me bring him more.”

“I have more than I can drink. I’ll go share mine with him.” He winked at her. “Save you a trip.”

“Thanks Ruben. Here’s another cup, then.”

Zedd put the last large piece of roast in his mouth as he surveyed the room. The men had quieted down, and Oscar had stopped hiccuping, as they all listened to the bard singing a sad song about a man who had lost his love.

Zedd picked up the tea pot and cups, and started from his table. He cursed under his breath when he remembered his hat, and swept it up, noticing the cane and snatching that up, too. He deliberately passed close to Oscar, looking him over carefully. He couldn’t figure out why he had hiccupped bubbles. Zedd gave a mental shrug. The man seemed normal enough, now, if a little too drunk.