The Adventures of Benjamin Skyhammer by Nicole Sheldrake Page B

four purple cylinders, the tallest structure on the Palace grounds.
    The airship sailed over the wall, the guard at ground level saluting as they went by.
    Skyhammer stretched, then shouldered his backpack as the airship touched down outside the Palace doors. Was the King really protecting them or did he too believe that Skyhammer wanted to sabotage the ceremony?

Chapter 7
     
     
    Countdown to ceremony: 15 days
     
    "Lady Higgins and the Keeper of the Retrograph Vault, your Majesty." The servant bowed low as they strode by him into the Crystal Room and handed off their backpacks to another servant.
    "Come in." The King stood at the opposite end of the room, hands resting on his protruding belly. His crown sat askew on his short, blonde hair. Baggy, orange pants and a matching silk top in the royal shade gave him the air of a pumpkin. If his pointy nose had been green, the picture would be complete. Skyhammer couldn't discern if the King's expression was disapproving or concerned.
    Between Skyhammer and the King, six straight-backed chairs encircled a large round table in front of open balcony doors. Next to the King, plates of cheese, bread and olives flanked by bottles of wine covered a corner table. Along one wall, a third table held a scattering of papers.
    Guards stood on either side of the doorways. Gaudy orange wall hangings enlivened two of the purple, stone walls. The third wall had two rows of hooks. Seven sword-shaped spaces lightened the walls above the hooks.
    Skyhammer bowed and Higgins curtsied before the King.
    "Get something to eat and we'll get started as soon as Poly arrives." The King sat down at the central table. "Now that they know you're here, the mob will be converging on the Palace. We don't have much time."
    Skyhammer piled his plate with food, then gazed at the sword wall for a moment, disappointed. He'd been looking forward to examining the King's sword collection. He must have moved the display. Skyhammer wandered onto the balcony. Outside, he ate in great gulps, looking out over the Crystal Lines. The gleaming white fissures zigzagged for miles behind the Palace. The fissures were largely unexplored but most people were okay with that; the strange screams and freakish howls that frequently rose from their depths put most adventurers off.
    In the distance, he saw a sliver of light - a glimpse of the sky between Floatilla and the far-off mountains. Would he survive another magic attack long enough to be out in the wilderness again? To his relief, the King acted welcoming, so he must not think Skyhammer was the Sorcerer. What did the King think? They would find out shortly. Skyhammer glared at Floatilla, bustling like a beehive above him, and couldn't imagine how the King survived living in its constant shadow. Opening his Retrograph Whorl, he took a longing peek at Higgins's boat.
    "Skyhammer!" The King beckoned him over to the paper-strewn table. "Record these with your Retrographs. You'll need to examine them later when we discuss the Byndari."
    Skyhammer finished chewing an olive. The King didn't know about Skyhammer's changed Retrographs. He stared at each of the five drawings in turn, making sure his Retrographs recorded them. Again. He shivered, nervous again. A powerful Sorcerer was out there somewhere. Someone with no regard for Skyhammer's life or desire for magic. If they were willing to sabotage the ceremony, then perhaps the Sorcerer could already do magic outside the Royal Circle.
    When the door swung open, Higgins was updating the King on the events surrounding the glove and the attack in Edgeton. Skyhammer straightened up and turned around.
    "Lady Polygon, your Majesty," the servant announced, ushering the King's Wizard through the doorway. She curtsied to the King, long skirts spreading out over the floor and lengthy brown hair falling across her face. Polygon, though only in her late twenties, was one of the most powerful humans in the realm: a Wizard level magician.
    Until now,