Into the Thinking Kingdoms Read Online Free PDF

Well, don’t get any ideas.” He gestured at Ehomba. “So’s my lean and lanky friend here.”
    “Is he?” Bin Grue grunted speculatively. “Well, he needn’t worry about me trying to cast any spells while he’s around. I’m no sorcerer, swordsman. Just a trader of goods and services, like I told you.”
    “But the box, all this . . . ?” Simna stared admiringly at the busy tavern that now filled the formerly empty warehouse.
    The trader nodded. “Fine piece of work, isn’t it? Hard to find this kind of craftsmanship anymore these days. I told you that I’m no wizard, and I meant it. But I do business with anyone and everyone. My specialty is the rare and exotic. Inventory sometimes brings me in contact with those who practice magic.” He peered steadfastly at Ehomba. “If you’re truly a sorcerer, as your friend claims, then you’ll know that even the greatest of necromancers can’t always conjure up what they need. That’s where someone like myself steps in.” He indicated a small stain on the floor. A square stain, the color of polished lignum vitae. “I acquired the tavern box from an elderly witch woman of Tarsis. She offered me three models: ordinary, with additional gold, or the deluxe. I chose the deluxe.”
    “What was the difference?” a curious Ehomba asked.
    Sitting forward in his chair, bin Grue hefted a tankard that, miraculously, was already full. When he drank, it was full bore and without delicacy. Beer dribbled from his heavy lips and he was quick to wipe the errant droplets away. In his drinking habits as with his manner of speaking he was foursquare and blunt, but no slob.
    “The ordinary boxes contain only the tavern. No accessories.” He took another swallow. “I like the atmosphere the patrons add.”
    Simna was watching people eat and drink and make merry all around them. “Are they real? Or only phantasms? Could I put my hand through one of them?”
    Bin Grue chuckled. “Can you put your hand through the chair you’re sitting on? I wouldn’t try it. An ignominious fate, to be thrown out of a nonexistent tavern by artificial habitués.” His eyes gleamed and his voice darkened slightly. “Besides, if you get in a fight with any of them you’re liable to find yourself sucked down into the box when it shrinks back in upon itself. The spell only holds for a finite amount of time.”
    “Then we had better get down to talking.” Sampling the liquid in the tall metal goblet before him, Ehomba found it to his taste. He sipped courteously.
    Simna labored under no such restraint. Slugging down the contents of his tankard, he called for more. The tavern maid who refilled his drinking container topped it off with a saucy smile, and did not object when he drew her close for a kiss.
    “Hoy, this is my kind of necromancy!” With drink in hand, the swordsman saluted their host approvingly.
    “But you must be hungry as well.” Turning, bin Grue clapped his hands. From an unseen kitchen in an unimaginable fragment of the plenum, a quartet of waiters appeared, marching deliberately toward the table carrying platters piled high with all manner of well-sauced and piquant foodstuffs. The last one was stacked high with long slabs of raw meat. This was set before an approving Ahlitah, who fell to devouring them with unrestrained feline gusto.
    “Eat!” their host admonished them as he chomped down enthusiastically on a leg of broasted unicorn.
    “I’ve got to hand it to you.” Simna’s words were muffled by the meat in his mouth. “I’ve seen travelers use magic to conjure up food. But a whole tavern, complete to back kitchen and bar and celebrating customers?” He waved an unidentifiable drumstick in his friend’s direction. “What I wouldn’t have given to have had that little box with us when we were crossing the desert!”
    “A remarkable piece of enchantment.” Ehomba made the confession even as he continued to put away copious quantities of food.
    They ate and