He drinks deeply, then sets the goblet carefully on the floor. He crosses the
room and mounts a step and peers through a slot window cut in the deep wall.
I’m sure we’re alone now. Drink up; I’ll fetch the krrf. He is gone/or less than
a minute, and returns with a heavy brick wrapped in soft leather.
Caronne’s finest, pure black, unadulterated. He unfolds the package: ebony block
embossed all over its surface with a foreign seal. Try some?
He nods. ‘A wise vintner who avoids his wares.’ You have the gold?
He weighs the bag in his hand. This is not enough. Not by half.
He listens and hands back the gold. Be reasonable. If you feel you can’t trust
my assay, take a small amount back to Ranke; have anyone test it. Then bring me
the price we established.
The other man suddenly stands and claws at his falchion, but it barely clears
its sheath, then clatters on the marble floor. He falls to his hands and knees,
trembling, stutters a few words, and collapses.
No, not a spell, though nearly as swift, don’t you think? That’s the virtue
ofcoadjutant poisons. The first ingredient you had along with everyone else, in
the sauce for the sweetmeats. Everyone but me. The second part was in the wine,
part of its sweetness.
He runs his thumbnail along the block, collecting a pinch of krrf, which he rubs
between thumb and forefinger and then sniffs. You really should try it. It makes
you feel young and brave. But then you are young and brave, aren’t you.
He carefully wraps the krrf up and retrieves the gold. Excuse me. I have to go