There was a _chak_-run cookshop down the street, a place I'd once
known well, with an evil reputation and worse food, but it was quiet and
stayed open all night. I turned in at the door, bending at the low
lintel.
The place was smoke-filled and foul-smelling. I dumped Miellyn on a
couch and sent the frowsy waiter for two bowls of noodles and coffee,
handed him a few extra coins, and told him to leave us alone. He
probably drew the worst possible inference--I saw his muzzle twitch at
the smell of _shallavan_--but it was that kind of place anyhow. He drew
down the shutters and went.
I stared at the unconscious girl, then shrugged and started on the
noodles. My own head was still swimmy with the fumes, incense and drug,
and I wanted it clear. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do, but
I had Evarin's right-hand girl, and I was going to use her.
The noodles were greasy and had a curious taste, but they were hot, and
I ate all of one bowl before Miellyn stirred and whimpered and put up
one hand, with a little clinking of chains, to her hair.
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