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square bronze tray higher to make sure it missed the tribune. Agile as a lizard, he slid between tables toward three couples in Makuraner costume. He set enamel bowls before them, ladled soup from a copper tureen. Then, with a flourish, he took the lid from a pan, dug in with a wooden spoon, and plopped light-brown steaming chunks into the soup bowls. The soup hissed and crackled as though hot metal was being quenched. Scaurus jumped. So, he saw, did Alypia and several of the more Videssian-looking people in the inn. Those before whom it was set, though, ate with gusto. A mystery to be explored! "Safav!" The waiter handed a patron a plate of broiled prawns and hurried over to the tribune. Marcus asked, "What's the secret of the soup there? Hot pitch, maybe?" "Sir?" Safav said, confused. Then his face cleared. "Oh, the sizzling rice soup? Would you care for some?" Marcus hesitated, but at Alypia's nod he said, "Why not?" He was more suspicious than he sounded. All but unknown to the Romans, rice was not common in Videssos either. Despite sputters, the tribune foresaw something on the order of barley mush, not what he wanted for holiday fare. But when Safav reappeared, the soup bowls he gave Scaurus and Alypia were full of a delicate golden broth rich with peas, mushrooms, and big hunks of shrimp and lobster. "In Makuran, now, this would be lamb or goat, but seafood works well enough," Safav said. Scaurus, waiting for the sizzle, was hardly listening. With the same flourish the other waiter had shown, Safav whipped the lid from the thick iron pan on his tray and dropped a steaming spoonful into each bowl. They crackled heartily for a few seconds, then sank. "Reminds me of burning ships," the tribune muttered. He prodded the crisp chunk of rice with his spoon, still dubious. "How is it done?" Alypia asked. "First boil the rice, then fry it in very hot oil until the moment it starts to scorch. It has to be hot to sizzle, which is why this," Safav said, tapping at the heavy pan. He laid a finger by the side of his nose. "You never heard that from me, my lady, else my cousin the cook comes after me with a big knife. Most people I would not tell; they ask just for talk's sake. But I could see you really want to know." Someone shouted the waiter's name; he bobbed his head shyly and left them. The tribune gave a tentative taste. The soup was splendid, the crisp rice in it nutlike and flavorful. "What do I know?" he said, and emptied the bowl. Tuna followed, broiled with oregano and basil; wine; greens with garlic and mint; wine; simmered squid stuffed with lentils and currants; wine; lamb stew with celery, leeks, and dates another Makuraner dish; wine; squash and beans fried in olive oil; wine; quinces and cinnamon; wine. Alypia had hold of the conversation without seeming to, deftly steering it to divert him but lay no demands upon him. For all her tact and skill, that game could go on only so long. As the grape mounted to Marcus' head, his responses grew steadily shorter. "Have you done what you set out to do, then?" Alypia said, her tone slyly bantering. But the tribune was not fuddled, as she supposed. Rather the wine had left his thoughts clear and simple, stripping veils of pretense from him. Too well he remembered standing in front of her like an automaton, nakedly spewing forth his inmost, most secret self under the influence of Nepos' cordial. He stabbed at a chunk of lamb with needless violence. Sensitive to his swing in mood, Alypia put her goblet down; she had drunk much less than he. She could be direct as well as artful and asked it straight: "What's amiss?" Page 212 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html "What are you doing here with me?" Marcus exclaimed. He stopped in dismay, mouth hanging foolishly open. "I could ask the same of you," Alypia replied with some heat. But her annoyance was not for his candor, for she went on, "When you sheered off from my servant oh yes, he saw you I thought you were angry at me, as you have a right to be. Yet here you sit, peaceably enough. Explain yourself, if you would." "Angry at you? No, never. I owe you a debt I cannot hope to repay, for finding a way to make your uncle believe me loyal. But " The tribune fell silent. Alypia waited him out. At last he had to continue. "How could I have anything to do with you, when I blight everything I put my hand to?" The furious stare she gave him said she was of the Gavras clan after all. "I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |