requested your
presence.’
Shea grinned at
Gossamer, running her hand through her cropped hair. ‘My hair’s
shorter than yours now Gossamer.’
Gossamer gave a
grudging smile in return. ‘The maids did a good job, I agree, but
you no longer look much like a Lady of the Imperium.’
‘Good!’
They followed Corman
down the spiral stairs where Grent turned right and hurried along a
broad corridor, presumably to the infirmary. Corman led the other
two on, down more stairs, until they reached a shadowed oval hall.
Gossamer gazed round it, then back up the stairs.
‘We didn’t come this
way yesterday, yet I’m sure the stairs were the same
ones.’
‘There are many stairs
within the Palace,’ was Corman’s only explanation.
Footsteps rang from one
of the many passageways leading from the hall. A young man emerged
from one and strode toward them. He was similarly dressed as the
Shield Master’s men yesterday. He stopped in front of them and
smiled.
‘The Lady Gossamer Tewk
and the Lady Shea.’ Corman performed the introductions. ‘And this
ladies, is Jemin. He is under the Sword Master’s command and will
be your guide this morning. Please excuse me.’
Corman’s tall thin
figure merged into shadows and seemed to vanish. Gossamer noticed,
but Shea didn’t. She was too busy staring at the handsome young
guard. He turned to lead them to a door which gave onto a small
garden, Gossamer bringing up the rear. Shea went from shrub to
shrub, exclaiming over multi coloured blooms each too large for her
to encircle with her arms at full stretch.
‘Jemin is an uncommon
name,’ Gossamer remarked to the back of the guard’s
head.
He turned. ‘So it is,’
he replied easily.
‘Where might such a
name come from?’ she pressed.
Jemin’s smile widened.
‘Why from the Eagle Mountains, Lady Gossamer, as you have so
swiftly surmised.’
Gossamer glanced to
where Shea was perched on the edge of a fountain, peering intently
into the water. Jemin grinned.
‘I gather my niece was
not much doted on by her dear mother.’
Gossamer looked back at
Jemin. There were countless pictures everywhere in Kelshan,
portraying the Imperator Jarvos and the Imperatrix Veranta. The man
standing before her had the same ruddy colouring of Jarvos although
his features were finer, his eyes a greenish hazel rather than
blue. There was not a scrap of similarity with Veranta. Gossamer
was rarely lost for a caustic comment but at this moment she could
think of precisely nothing whatsoever to say. Jemin laughed aloud
and slipped his arm through Gossamer’s, drawing her to the
fountain.
‘I think we will need
most of this morning to explain quite a few things to my niece. And
you can help me.’
Gossamer opened her
mouth to object, then closed it. Words seemed to have utterly
forsaken her.
‘And perhaps you should
explain yourself to her while we’re at it,’ Jemin added, depositing
Gossamer on the gleaming edge of the black stone bowl into which
the fountain cascaded.
Grent found Waxin Pule
on a couch on a balcony at the far end of the infirmary dormitory.
Nenat lay on another couch and they appeared to be arguing. But
both smiled when Grent wished them good day. They looked much
healthier, Grent observed, and his master’s breathing was better
than it had been for years. Pule read his apprentice’s
mind.
‘The healers here have
discovered a very great deal in the field of medicine since my
youth,’ he said. ‘Nenat can’t wait to be let loose in the research
rooms.’
Nenat scowled, out of
habit Grent was fairly sure.
‘Some of the plants
they’ve used in your treatment Waxin Pule would not grow in our
cooler clime.’
Pule snorted. ‘I’ve
seen rare plants cared for, and thrive, in heated glass rooms in
Kelshan,’ he retorted.
‘And how many
travellers cross between Kelshan and the Dark Realm to bring plants
back in the first place you old fool?’
Before his master could
goad Nenat to fury, Grent put in a
presence.’
Shea grinned at
Gossamer, running her hand through her cropped hair. ‘My hair’s
shorter than yours now Gossamer.’
Gossamer gave a
grudging smile in return. ‘The maids did a good job, I agree, but
you no longer look much like a Lady of the Imperium.’
‘Good!’
They followed Corman
down the spiral stairs where Grent turned right and hurried along a
broad corridor, presumably to the infirmary. Corman led the other
two on, down more stairs, until they reached a shadowed oval hall.
Gossamer gazed round it, then back up the stairs.
‘We didn’t come this
way yesterday, yet I’m sure the stairs were the same
ones.’
‘There are many stairs
within the Palace,’ was Corman’s only explanation.
Footsteps rang from one
of the many passageways leading from the hall. A young man emerged
from one and strode toward them. He was similarly dressed as the
Shield Master’s men yesterday. He stopped in front of them and
smiled.
‘The Lady Gossamer Tewk
and the Lady Shea.’ Corman performed the introductions. ‘And this
ladies, is Jemin. He is under the Sword Master’s command and will
be your guide this morning. Please excuse me.’
Corman’s tall thin
figure merged into shadows and seemed to vanish. Gossamer noticed,
but Shea didn’t. She was too busy staring at the handsome young
guard. He turned to lead them to a door which gave onto a small
garden, Gossamer bringing up the rear. Shea went from shrub to
shrub, exclaiming over multi coloured blooms each too large for her
to encircle with her arms at full stretch.
‘Jemin is an uncommon
name,’ Gossamer remarked to the back of the guard’s
head.
He turned. ‘So it is,’
he replied easily.
‘Where might such a
name come from?’ she pressed.
Jemin’s smile widened.
‘Why from the Eagle Mountains, Lady Gossamer, as you have so
swiftly surmised.’
Gossamer glanced to
where Shea was perched on the edge of a fountain, peering intently
into the water. Jemin grinned.
‘I gather my niece was
not much doted on by her dear mother.’
Gossamer looked back at
Jemin. There were countless pictures everywhere in Kelshan,
portraying the Imperator Jarvos and the Imperatrix Veranta. The man
standing before her had the same ruddy colouring of Jarvos although
his features were finer, his eyes a greenish hazel rather than
blue. There was not a scrap of similarity with Veranta. Gossamer
was rarely lost for a caustic comment but at this moment she could
think of precisely nothing whatsoever to say. Jemin laughed aloud
and slipped his arm through Gossamer’s, drawing her to the
fountain.
‘I think we will need
most of this morning to explain quite a few things to my niece. And
you can help me.’
Gossamer opened her
mouth to object, then closed it. Words seemed to have utterly
forsaken her.
‘And perhaps you should
explain yourself to her while we’re at it,’ Jemin added, depositing
Gossamer on the gleaming edge of the black stone bowl into which
the fountain cascaded.
Grent found Waxin Pule
on a couch on a balcony at the far end of the infirmary dormitory.
Nenat lay on another couch and they appeared to be arguing. But
both smiled when Grent wished them good day. They looked much
healthier, Grent observed, and his master’s breathing was better
than it had been for years. Pule read his apprentice’s
mind.
‘The healers here have
discovered a very great deal in the field of medicine since my
youth,’ he said. ‘Nenat can’t wait to be let loose in the research
rooms.’
Nenat scowled, out of
habit Grent was fairly sure.
‘Some of the plants
they’ve used in your treatment Waxin Pule would not grow in our
cooler clime.’
Pule snorted. ‘I’ve
seen rare plants cared for, and thrive, in heated glass rooms in
Kelshan,’ he retorted.
‘And how many
travellers cross between Kelshan and the Dark Realm to bring plants
back in the first place you old fool?’
Before his master could
goad Nenat to fury, Grent put in a
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