Волхв

Chapter 17

           Westoodandwentintothemusicroom.Asweputourglassesonthetrayhesaid,"Therearethingsthatwordscannotexplain."Ilookeddown."AtOxfordwearetaughttoassumethatifwordscan’texplain,nothingelseislikelyto.""Verywell."Hesmiled."MayIcallyouNicholasnow?""Ofcourse.Please."Hepouredadropofouzointoourglasses.Weraisedandclinkedthem."Eis’ygeiasas,Nicholas.""Sygeia."ButIhadastrongsuspicioneventhenthathewasdrinkingtosomethingotherthanmyhealth.Thetableinthecorneroftheterraceglittered,anunexpectedlyopulentislandofglassandsilverinthedarkness.Itwaslitbyonetalllampwithadarkshade;thelightfloweddownwards,concentratedonthewhitecloth,andwasthenreflectedup,lightingourfacesstrangely,Caravaggiofashion,againstthesurroundingdarkness.Themealwasexcellent.Weatesmallfishcookedinwine,adeliciouschicken,herb-flavoredcheeseandahoney-and-curdflanmade,accordingtoConchis,fromamedievalTurkishrecipe.Thewinewedrankhadatraceofresin,asifthevineyardhadmerelybeenbesideapineforest,andwasnothingliketheharshturpentine-tastingrotgutIsometimesdrankinthevillage.Weatelargelyinsilence.Heevidentlypreferredthis.Ifwetalked,itwasofthefood.Heateslowly,andverylittle,butIleftMarianothingtotakeaway.Whenwehadfinished,MariabroughtTurkishcoffeeinabrasspotandtookthelamp,whichwasbeginningtoattracttoomanyinsects.Shereplaceditbyasinglecandle.

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