"Jane M. Lindskold - A Touch of Poison" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

The young widow rose from the bed, dropping the covers over the incriminating packet as if by doing so
she could erase the incident. Automatically, Adalia splashed water on her face and combed her hair
before getting dressed.

Fortunately, no one thought it at all odd if a baker was up and about before the dawn. Fresh bread for
the breakfast tablesтАФespecially in summer when the dough could not be trusted to rest well overnightтАФ
made such early rising nearly law.

Adalia was belting her apron over her light cotton smock when the true horror of her situation occurred
to her.

Even if she did arrange to kill Supreme Affluent ReidтАФand already she had worked out a dozen ways to
introduce the poison into his foodтАФwhat guarantee did she have that the assassins would return her
child? What guarantee did she have that they would notтАФa dozen recipes for deception sprang to mind
unbiddenтАФlet someone know that she had introduced the poison into her master's food?

She stood trembung, staring out the window to where false dawn was tinting the skies precisely the color
of the assassins' clothing. Then with a decisive toss of her head, she made her decision. It was not a
matter of right or wrong; it was a question of survival for herself and her boy.

Leaving her room in the servant's wing of Reid's sprawling mansion, Adalia trotted down the stairs. She
wondered just how well-supplied the larder was with almonds.

The almond tart was a magnificent thing, folded over into a fat half-moon of butter-brushed pastry,
beaded with a narrow ribbon of sugar glaze rather than sloppily coated as had been the custom of the
previous baker.

Supreme Affluent Reid wondered in passing, even as he turned his attention to the ham and eggs with
which he began his meal, why Widow Baker had apparently used almonds to flavor the creamy cheese
filling rather than a seasonal fruit as had been her custom to this point. He then dismissed the thought as
unworthy of such an artist. She must have had her reasons.

He returned his attention to the account books he had brought to the table with him as was his custom at
breakfast. There, in complete privacy but for the servant who stood motionless in an alcove to one side,
Reid reviewed accounts and from them laid his plan of battle.

Greene Reid was considered young to hold the power he didтАФbarely into his fiftieth year. Nor had he
arisen from great fortune as many of his rivals had done.

Reid's mother had managed a handful of particularly fleet raiding vessels and had done well among the
isles to the south. His father had owned marshy, wet land in the southeast of Waterland and many slaves.
Reid Senior had combined these resources to grow the tart, round marshberries that were prized by
sailors for staving off scurvy and by healers as a key ingredient in many of their preparations.

When Reid's father and mother had united fortunes, those marshlands had also become a haven for
Waterland privateersтАФany ship, any owner, though the price was highтАФand a base for profitable
smuggling into the southern kingdom of Hawk Haven.

Young Reid had inherited his mother's portion when he was thirty and she was lost at sea. Father's
portion still remained under the old man's administration, but the older man had sold out to his sonтАФ