Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,361

Pounding pain behind her eyes.

From somewhere below she could hear tavern sounds, a score of voices, drunken laughter. Apsalar found her silklined cloak, reversed it and slipped the garment over her shoulders, then she walked over to the door, unlocked it, and stepped out into the corridor beyond. Two wavering oil-lamps set in niches along the wall, a railing and stairs at the far end. From the room opposite hers came the muffled noise of love-making, the woman's cries too melodramatic to be genuine. Apsalar listened a moment longer, wondering what it was about the sounds that disturbed her so, then she moved through the flicker of shadows, reaching the steps, and made her way down.

It was late, probably well after the twelfth bell. Twenty or so patrons occupied the tavern, half of them in the livery of caravan guards. They were not regulars, given the unease with which they were regarded by the remaining denizens, and she noted, as she approached the counter, that three were Gral, whilst another pair, both women, were Pardu. Both rather unpleasant tribes, or so Cotillion's memories informed her in a subtle rustle of disquiet. Typically raucous and overbearing, their eyes finding and tracking her progress to the bar; she elected caution and so kept her gaze averted.

The barman walked over as she arrived. 'Was beginning to think you'd died,' he said, as he lifted a bottle of rice wine into view and set it before her. 'Before you dip into this, lass, I'd like to see some coin.'

'How much do I owe you so far?'

'Two silver crescents.'

She frowned. 'I thought I'd paid already.'

'For the wine, aye. But then you spent a night and a day and an evening in the room – and I have to charge you for tonight as well, since it's too late to try renting it out now. Finally,' he gestured, 'there's this bottle here.'

'I didn't say I wanted it,' she replied. 'But if you've any food left ...'

'I've some.'

She drew out her coin pouch and found two crescents. 'Here. Assuming this is for tonight's room as well.'

He nodded. 'You don't want the wine, then?'

'No. Sawr'ak beer, if you please.'

He collected the bottle and headed off.

A figure pushed in on either side of her. The Pardu women. 'See those Gral?' one asked, nodding to a nearby table. 'They want you to dance for them.'

'No they don't,' Apsalar replied.

'No,' the other woman said, 'they do. They'll even pay. You walk like a dancer. We could all see that. You don't want to upset them—'

'Precisely. Which is why I won't dance for them.'

The two Pardu were clearly confused by that. In the interval the barman arrived with a tankard of beer and a tin bowl of goat soup, the layer of fat on the surface sporting white hairs to give proof of its origin. He added a hunk of dark bread. 'Good enough?'

She nodded. 'Thank you.' Then turned to the woman who had first spoken. 'I am a Shadow Dancer. Tell them that, Pardu.'

Both women backed off suddenly, and Apsalar leaned on the counter, listening to the hiss of words spreading out through the tavern. All at once she found she had some space around her. Good enough.

The bartender was regarding her warily. 'You're full of surprises,' he said. 'That dance is forbidden.'

'Yes, it is.'

'You're from Quon Tali,' he said in a quieter voice. 'Itko Kan, I'd guess, by the tilt of your eyes and that black hair. Never heard of a Shadow Dancer out of Itko Kan.' He leaned close. 'I was born just outside Gris, you see. Was regular infantry in Dassem's army, took a spear in the back my first battle and that was it for me. I missed Y'Ghatan, for which I daily give thanks to Oponn. You understand. Didn't see Dassem die and glad for it.'

'But you still have stories aplenty,' Apsalar said.

'That I have,' he said with an emphatic nod. Then his gaze sharpened on her. After a moment he grunted and moved away.

She ate, sipped ale, and her headache slowly faded.

Some time later, she gestured to the barman and he approached. 'I am going out,' she said, 'but I wish to keep the room so do not rent it out to anyone else.'

He shrugged. 'You've paid for it. I lock up at fourth bell.'

She straightened and made her way towards the door. The caravan guards tracked her progress, but none made move to follow – at least not immediately.

She hoped they would heed the