The Malmillard Codex by K.G. McAbee Page A

he tried to hurry on.
Madryn had almost disappeared into the crush in front of him. Then,
thinking that the slavemaster gazed at him with a curious turn of
the head, he paused and looked harder at the selection. "No," he
said, in firmer if politer tones, "not today, I think. But I
congratulate you on your selections; they are most impressive."
    "Most impressive, says the lord gentleman,"
repeated the slavemaster in a loud, singsong voice. "Come one, come
all, to see my most impressive selection of slaves, recommended by
a gentleman and lord of the highest birth and quality."
    A toothless slave, his collar loose about a
scrawny, withered neck, offered Val a smile that looked like the
entrance to a dark cave.
    Val pushed his way forward to catch up with
Madryn.
    ***
    Madryn stood waiting for him at a storefront
that was set back from the street, actually inside one of the
scabrous buildings that lined the thoroughfare. The glitter of
polished steel, bronze and copper gleamed from within the shadowy
depths of the store.
    "Slave shopping, Val?" Madryn asked.
    Val gave her a sickly grin. "An odd
sensation," he whispered, sure she would not be able to make out
his words.
    But she did. "I know the feeling," she
replied cryptically.
    Then she nodded toward the storefront. Above
the entrance was emblazoned a sign, embroidered in dingy orange
silk, which shouted 'Swords for the Discerning Buyer' in three
languages and the runic glyphs of the sacerdotal saragins of
Syercyh. Beneath the sign in sprawling letters the name 'Baragin'
was gouged into the dry wood over the low doorway, by someone who
had not made any use of the sharp blades whose images littered the
outside walls. Each tilting letter looked as if it had been chewed
into the ancient wood and stone.
    "This appears to be our destination," Madryn
said as she studied the display for a time, then entered the open
door.
    Val followed close behind.
    "My lady and gentleman!" called a
high-pitched voice in dulcet tones. A reed-thin figure, dressed in
trailing robes of clashing and particularly virulent shades of
green and orange, swirled into view from the back of the shop,
making a careful way between tables heaped with daggers. The inside
walls were hidden beneath scabbards, some empty, some filled out
with sword, rapier or saber.
    "How delicious to see such discerning folk
on this dreary, depressing day," continued the figure in lisping,
pleasant tones as it made its way towards them. It stopped, peered
up through shortsighted eyes. "Pray, what can I offer you that
would match your elegant albeit distressingly monochromatic
outfits?"
    The figure, in the somewhat brighter light
near the door, was revealed to be a slight man with a face like a
ferret. His tiny feet peeped coyly from beneath his silken robes,
and wafting waves of heavy scent did little to hide an underlying
odor of unwashed body. "I am the unworthy Baragin, a poor purveyor
of the finest steel in all Karleon. Are you in the market for a
sword, a dagger, perhaps an axe or three?" The man's words trickled
and fell from his mouth like endless drops of water breaking the
surface of a still pond. "I have the best selection in a hundred
league radius, as well as the best prices. Not," Baragin
interrupted his flow, twisting his hands obsequiously, "not, of
course, that that would make any difference to customers such as you , certainly. You are, it is most obvious, well provided
with more than your share of the riches of the world." This last
was offered in a sad little voice that fairly seeped with unshed
tears.
    "We need—that is, my companion needs a
sword, Master Baragin," Madryn began, trying and failing to hold
back a smile.
    "Well, of course he does," Baragin agreed,
as if they argued the fact and he must convince them. "Such a
strong arm cannot do without an even stronger blade. A heavy and
wide steel, I think, tempered with just the faintest touch of
copper for strength, and a hilt wrapped in the finest leather