of the subject in recent weeks; and with the help of some of the books he keeps
I would expect to get at least its gist.’
‘How long would it take?’ Aye-Gophlan demanded.
‘Oh, one might safely say two or three days,’ Melilot interpolated in a tone
that brooked no contradiction. ‘Given that it’s so unusual an assignment, there
would naturally be no charge except on production of a satisfactory rendering.’
Jarveena almost dropped the scroll a second time. Never in living memory had
Melilot accepted a commission without taking at least half his fee in advance.
There must be something quite exceptional about this sheet of paper –
And of course there was. It dawned on her that moment, and she had to struggle
to prevent her teeth from chattering.
‘Wait here,’ the fat man said, struggling to his feet. ‘I shall return when I’ve
escorted the captain out.’
The moment the door closed she threw the scroll down on the table next to the
lobster – wishing, irrelevantly, that it were not still intact, so she might
snatch a morsel without being detected. The writing writhed into new patterns
even as she tried not to notice.
Then Melilot was back, resuming his chair, sipping from his half-full wine cup.
‘You’re astute, you little weasel!’ he said in a tone of grudging admiration.
‘Are you quick-witted enough to know precisely why neither he nor I – nor you!
can read that writing?’
Jarveena swallowed hard. ‘There’s a spell on it,’ she offered after a pause.
‘Yes! Yes, there is! Better than any code or cipher. Except for the eyes of the