“I couldn’t be more pleased with my location though it does concern me that Maythorm seems to have recognized me somehow. I intend to stay well out of his way, henceforth his and Queen Ligne’s.”
“You should have little difficulty losing yourself in this gigantic barn. And of course, if you’re caught you can always fly away though I wager that would leave the rest of us with some difficult explaining…” Parmi noted an uncertain expression flick across his friend’s features, and his brow creased in concern. “What is it?” be asked.
“Nothing…” Fallomar murmured.
“You’ll not convince me that wayl” Parmi grunted, and the fool had to gesture to him to hold down his voice. “This mention of powers… is the Power here?”
“Yes and others.”
“Other powers?”
“At least one.”
“Ah. And you’re uneasy about your shaping.”
“Would you keep your voice down, Yona!” Pelmen whispered with intensity. “You’ll soon have the Queen herself listening in on our conversation!”
“I don’t notice anyone paying us any mind.” Yona shrugged as he consumed a sausage. “And as for the Queen, she’s far too interested in that hooded captive seated next to her to pay any heed to us.”
At the mention of a captive, Pelmen’s eyes shot up to the dais. A quick glance at the unfortunate creature next to- Ligne assured him that this was no petite female and, with passing pity for the poor wretch, he turned back to the plate of food before him. As he turned, Pelmen caught a glimpse of the young prisoner’s arm twitching and suddenly the miserable captive had grabbed his total attention. He stared at the dais, his jaws clenched in shock and his eyes wide in horror.
“Fool!” Parmi snarled, pulling Pelmen’s gaze back across the table to him. “You want to attract her attention? You certainly will if you stare at her that way! You have no idea how thoroughly that white face underscores the brilliance of your eyes!” Pelmen stared at him for a moment, then began sneaking peeks at the royal table, to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. He wasn’t.
“What’s the matter with you.” Yona Parmi demanded ferociously.
The painted fool sighed, and took a bite of a sausage. “You remember the young man I told you of?” he said, chewing without tasting. “The stuttering warrior who : helped me slay the dragon?”
“I do. Rosha something.”
“That’s him under the hood.” , Yona Parmi stared this time. “You’re sure?”
“He moves like Rosha. Has Rosha’s build. No, I don’t |>: know for sure, but his jaw is the mirror image of Rosha’s father, Dorlyth. I’m afraid it’s him.”
“But… what’s he doing here?”
Pelmen glanced up at the stage, then looked away in revulsion as he muttered, “At the moment, he’s being spoon-fed.”
Indeed, Ligne was feeding Rosha herself. Joss would not permit him to handle eating utensils, since they could possibly used as weapons against the Queen, so Ligne had taken to feeding him. She’d come to enjoy this little symbol of her domination; she viewed this humiliation as just one more bit of leverage that would eventually, inevitably, force Rosha to yield to her demands and become domesticated.
“Did you know about this?” Parmi whispered, and Pelmen shook his head from side to side. Yona waited for a moment, then asked, “What are you going to do now?”
His appetite gone, Pelmen stared at his breakfast. “Parmi,” he sighed,
“I wish you hadn’t asked me that
A disheveled Kherda, late from his bed, joined Ligne on the platform and seated himself in the vacant chair between the Queen and Jagd. As always, he brought a sheaf of documents with him, which he hoped to dispose of during breakfast. It was the same stack he’d carried with him to every meal this week. As yet, he’d not been able to hold the Queen’s attention long enough to take care of any of this business, and the frustration was beginning to gnaw on him. “Good morning, my Lady.
I have here a number of matters that we could dispense with in just a moment if you…” He trailed off. The Queen had paid him absolutely no mind. “Well,” he muttered bitterly, “I see she’s still taken with her toy.”
Jagd, who might have assumed this was addressed to him, didn’t respond.
The merchant mulled over his own problems. Jagd was tired of this castle. Not that the food wasn’t excellent or the company never boring. He just wanted to get back to work. But through his network of spies Jagd had learned of Flayh’s planned assassination attempt, and above all else, Jagd wished to keep on living. Early that morning, in the utter stillness of predawn hours, he and Flayh and Flayh’s obese nephew had carried on a tense conference by means of a trio of ingenious, pyramid-shaped crystals. Flayh had issued him a summons to attend a conclave of the Council of Elders, to be held in Ngandib-Mar.
Although he was fully aware that this invitation was a trap designed to lure him from the castle to his death, still the temptation to attend was strong. He was tired of walking the floors of his guest apartment, wondering if or when Ligne watched him from secret chambers beyond the wall panels. He was weary of interminable bouts of Drax not to mention being short of gold, since Ligne always demanded that he wager, and it wasn’t in his best interests to defeat the woman. As Jagd nervously gulped down a frosted spice cake, he squirmed in his seat, watching the doors for a messenger from the roof. He was expecting a missive from his protege in the Mar, Tahli-Damen. On the basis of that word, he would decide whether to go or to stay.
“Have you ever heard the like?” Kherda seethed, bumping Jagd with his elbow to get the merchant’s attention. “Why, she babbles over him like a merchant’s daughter ” Kherda stopped, and looked at Jagd. “Pardon. I… wasn’t thinking. Just an expression, you understand.”
“Doesn’t offend me.” Jagd shrugged. “I have no daughter.” The merchant went back to his breakfast. Kherda leaned toward the Queen to try to overhear her conversation with the boy.
“You seem exceptionally stubborn this morning,” Ligne was chiding.
“Come on now. Eat.”
“D-don’t you ever t-tire of this game?” Rosha snarled. “Why, whatever do you mean?” she mocked, her voice lilting.
“This n-nonsense of trying to feed me!” he exploded. “Untie my hands and let me eat!”
“Can’t do that, my sweet. Joss is afraid you’ll fork me to death. Come on now,” she teased. “Aren’t you hungry, darling?”
“Yes! Hungry to move, hungry to see!” he spat savagely. “My m-muscles are turning to sponge!”
“Kherda!” Ligne screamed. Kherda rose a couple of inches off his seat as he clapped his hands over his ears. “Oh, you’re here already,” she noted. She continued without apology: “See that Rosha gets some exercise today. He says his muscles are getting spongy, and we certainly can’t have that.”
“Yes, my Lady, I will. Now as to the abundance of verminous insects in the northern edge of this region, I have a document here for the Queen to sign that abhors the presence of such insects and authorizes the use of national funds to eradicate the pests. Just sign here ” Kherda had been looking at the document, not the Queen, and he now realized that he was talking to her back. Ligne was heatedly whispering something in Rosha’s ear as the lad frowned grimly. Once again, all Kherda could see was her back that beautiful dark hair spilling down across her shoulders from a garnet-encrusted circlet. They were beautiful shoulders fetchingly white against her russet and tan dress gorgeous shoulders, as he’d known for many months. But Kherda felt a sense of despair, for this seemed to be all he saw of Ligne lately. Apparently today would be no different. And there was so much that was crying out to be done, real issues that needed to be dealt with! He couldn’t even get her to sign a toothless royal decree!