The Book of Taltos Read Online Free PDF Page A

my right and left, a large arched exit before me, smaller ones to the sides, balconies above me, and a few landscape paintings—no psiprints—on the walls. At least everything wasn’t done in black.
    Then one of the landscapes caught my attention. It had a huge yellow sun at the upper right and the wisp of white clouds in the sky. I’d seen such sights before, through my grandfather’s eyes. It was a scene done in the East.
    Teldra escorted me through the tall arched doorway in the center, down about twenty paces of wide, unadorned but well-lit hallway into what was clearly a sitting room. The predominant color here was pale yellow, and the room was filled with overstuffed chairs, buffets, liquor cabinets, and tables. I gave up looking for potential traps in the first ten seconds. I wished Loiosh were with me.
    Teldra indicated a chair that looked comfortable and afforded a view of the door. I sat down. She said, “The Lord Morrolan is expected in a moment. Would you allow me to serve you wine?”
    “Um, yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”
    She brought a bucket of ice with a bottle in it, which told me something else; it is the Easterners who serve wine chilled. She removed the bottle, took the wine tongs from the coals, expertly circumscribed the neck, dipped the feather in the ice, and lifted off the top of the neck. All of her movements were fluid and graceful, as if she were dancing with her hands. She poured and I drank. It was really very good, which was another surprise. I studied the bottle, but didn’t recognize the label.
    “Is there anything else I can get for you, my lord?”
    “No, no,” I said. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
    “Until later, then, my lord.”
    I rose as she left, although I wasn’t sure if it was proper. Teldra nodded as if it was, but I suspect that if I’d remained seated, that would have been proper, too.
    Dragonlords don’t use poison; I drank some more wine. Presently, unannounced save by the rap-rap sound of his footfalls, the Lord Morrolan entered the room.
    He was tall and dressed in black, with bits of silver lace on his blouse and on the epaulettes that peeked out under the full cloak he wore thrown back.His hand rested on the hilt of a longsword. His face had the angularity of the House of the Dragon. His forehead was high, and his hair was very dark, straight, and long enough to cover his ears. I gave the sword a second look and realized, even though it was sheathed, that it was a Morganti blade, and powerful. I repressed a shudder as I felt it ringing in my mind.
    It was only as an afterthought that it hit me: Why was he wearing a blade—and a Morganti blade at that—to greet a guest inside his home? Could he be afraid of me? Could it be the custom of Dragonlords to go wandering around armed in their own homes, or when greeting guests?
    Or was he planning to just haul off and kill me?
    You can believe what you like about the existence of the soul, or the Dragaeran’s faith in reincarnation. But even if you don’t believe any of that, there is no question that if I were killed by a Morganti weapon, that was it for me. I froze for a moment, then realized that I ought to acknowledge his presence, since he, at least, hadn’t attacked me yet.
    I rose and gave him a half bow. “Lord Morrolan, I am Vladimir Taltos. I am honored that you should consent to see me.” I’m a good liar.
    He nodded coolly and indicated with his head that I should sit. Teldra returned and poured him a glass of wine as he sat opposite me. As she left, he said, “Thank you, Lady Teldra.” Lady? I wondered at their relationship. Meanwhile, Morrolan was appraising me as I’d appraise a jewel. His eyes never left me as he drank. I returned the favor. His complexion was fairly dark, though lighter than a Hawk’s or a Vallista’s. His hair was black and shoulder-length and curly and just a bit neglected. He sat rather stiffly, as if he were wound too tight. The movements of his head were quick,