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Waylander 3 – Hero in the Shadows By David Gemmell

Emrin chuckled and pulled open the door. Slowly they made their way down the corridor towards the stairs.

A few minutes after they had gone a small globe of bright light materialized outside the door to Yu Yu’s room. Cold air emanated from it. A layer of frost covered the carpet. The globe swelled, forming a white, icy mist that swirled and grew until it reached from floor to ceiling. A shuffling sound emanated from the mist, and two enormous creatures stepped clear of it. They were bone-white and hairless. One ducked its head and entered the room, its massive arm lashing out at the bed. The frame split as the bed crashed into the far wall. The second lowered its head, its small red eyes staring malevolently down the corridor. A third beast slithered from the mist, a scaled white serpent with a long flat head. The head swayed from side to side just above the carpet, snuffling air through four slitted nostrils. Then it began an undulating glide along the corridor towards the stairs.

The mist rolled back across the other beasts.

And flowed along the corridor, following the serpent.

The kitchen was some fifty feet long and twenty wide, boasting several large, stone-dressed iron ovens. Shelves lined the north wall, upon which were placed stacks of plates, jugs and cups. There were five huge, and splendidly crafted, glass-fronted cabinets containing engraved crystal goblets and dishes. Below the shelves were cupboards filled with cooking utensils and cutlery. There were two main doors, one set against the eastern wall, leading to the stairs and the South Tower, the other opening on to a broad winding staircase that emerged on to the main banqueting hall.

There were no windows, and despite a hidden series of chimneys that carried away much of the heat from the ovens, the kitchen could become intolerably warm when large amounts of cooked food were being prepared and a score of servants were scurrying around.

Even now, with the servants abed and only two lanterns burning, it still retained some of the heat produced in the preparing of the evening meals some two hours before. Keeva moved to a drawer and took out a knife, then opened the pantry door and removed a round crusty loaf, a slab of honey-roasted ham, and a dish of butter, which she placed on the long, marble-topped table.

‘That is a meat knife,’ said Norda, with a laugh. ‘Do you know nothing, farm girl?’

Keeva pushed out her tongue at her, and continued clumsily to carve slices from the loaf. ‘A knife is a knife,’ she said. ‘If it is sharp it will cut bread.’

Norda rolled her eyes in mock horror. ‘There are fish knives, bread knives, meat knives, carving knives, shell knives, fruit knives, cheese knives. You’ll have to learn them, you know, if you are ever to wait table at the Gentleman’s banquets.’

Keeva ignored her, lifted the top from the butter dish and smeared a slab over her bread.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Norda, ‘and there are butter knives.’

‘What a complete waste of metal,’ mocked Keeva.

Norda laughed again. ‘Knives are like men: each has a different purpose. Some are great hunters, some are great lovers.’

‘Ssh! Not in front of the boy!’

Norda laughed again. ‘He is asleep. It is so like children. First they want to play, then they get hungry, and by the time you’ve brought them to the kitchen and prepared some food they are fast asleep and you are left with a mountain of bread.’ The women gazed at the small blond boy, asleep on the bench, his head resting on his arm. ‘So sweet,’ whispered Norda. ‘One day he’ll be a ladies’ man. You can tell. Those baby-blue eyes will melt the hardest heart. They’ll be slipping out of their dresses faster than you can say knife.’

‘Maybe he won’t be like that,’ said Keeva. ‘Maybe he’ll fall in love with one woman, get married and have a fine family.’

True,’ agreed Norda. ‘He might turn out dull.’

‘Oh, you are incorrigible!’ Keeva cut some cold ham, placed it between two slices of buttered bread and took a huge bite.

‘That’s disgusting!’ cried Norda. ‘And now you’ve got butter on your chin.’

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Categories: David Gemmell
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