"J. V. Jones - The Book Of Words 1 - The Baker's Boy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones J. V)

The Baker's Boy
Volume 1 of The Book of Words

By J.V. Jones

ISBN: 0-446-60282-5



Prologue
"The deed is done, master." Lusk barely had a second to notice the glint of the long-knife, and only a
fraction of that second to realize what it meant.

Baralis sliced Lusk's body open with one forceful but elegant stroke, cleaving from the throat to the
groin. Baralis shuddered as the body fell to the floor with a dull thud. He held his hand up to his face
where he detected a sticky wetness: Lusk's blood. On impulse he drew his finger to his lips and tasted. It
was like an old friend, coppery, salty and still warm.

He turned away from the now lifeless body and noticed his robes were covered in Lusk's blood; it was
not a random spraying, the blood formed a scarlet arc against the gray. A crescent moon. Baralis smiled,
it was a good omen-a crescent moon marked new beginnings, new births, new opportunities-the very
currency he would deal in this night.

For now, though, he had some minor details to take care of. He must get changed for one thing; it would
not be fitting to meet his beloved in bloodstained clothes, and there was the body to deal with. Lusk had
been a faithful servant, unfortunately he had one tiny flaw-a tongue too prone to flap with indiscretion. No
man with a fondness for ale and a tendency for drunken disclosure would jeopardize his carefully laid
plans.

As he dragged the body onto a threadbare rug, his hands began to ache with the familiar, stabbing pain.
He had taken a small amount of pain-relieving drug earlier to facilitate his use of the long-knife, but it had
quickly worn off, as it did all too often these days, and he was reluctant to take more in case it interfered
with his performance.

Baralis wielded the long-knife once more, marveling at the sharpness of blade and the way he, who had
never been an expert in such matters, seemed to be endowed with a certain finesse when haft was in
hand. He made the appropriate cuts and placed what were the better part of Lusk's features in a linen
swath, which quickly soaked with blood. This really was most unpleasant. He had no liking for
bloodshed, but would do what was expedient. He moved across the room and threw the swath onto the
fire.

In the distance, a clock began to chime. Baralis counted eight tolls of the bell. It was time to get cleaned
and changed. He would arrange to have the rest of Lusk's body taken away in the morning by the hulking
dimwit Crope. Nowthere was a man who would tell no tales.

Less than an hour later, Baralis quietly left his apartments. His destination lay above him, but his route
took him downward. Stealth was the greatest consideration; he could not risk being challenged by an
over-zealous guard or engaged by a damn fool nobleman.
 He made his way to the second cellar level. The candle he held was not usually necessary to him, but
tonight was special; he would take no chances, tempt no fates.