Lance of Earth and Sky - By Erin Hoffman Page 0,20

apology he now directed at her. “But the common folk can be barbarians.”

Ruby gave a venomous mutter about “uncommon” folk, the first she'd spoken since their landing. Vidarian couldn't help but agree, though he snuck off to the ordered bath before he could risk Renard's attention again.

Two hours later, Vidarian, Calphille, and Isri were ensconced in separate chambers. Renard had moved like a whirlwind and left Vidarian with three of the best-fitting sets of clothing he'd ever owned, and yet another warning that they had never met. Vidarian had assured him of total secrecy, and another under-steward had come to direct him to his chambers.

The rooms were, of course, palatial, with the water chamber alone easily twice the size of his cabin on the lost Empress Quest. In the sleeping room, the velvet-curtained bed was the largest he had ever seen, and the dark, heavy furniture, resplendent with silver-work, was surely worth more than the Quest herself had been at the market's height a decade ago.

All of this washed over Vidarian, barely noticed. He was here to see the emperor, and his door was unguarded. The under-steward had left him in the room, wary of the pup, whose spines still emitted the odd spark of electricity, without any instruction. And the pup, in the way of young things, had promptly curled up on the cool stone floor of the water chamber and fallen asleep.

Vidarian eased out into the marble-tiled corridor and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. He listened for any sign that the pup had awakened, but there was only silence. Quietly he turned, rehearsing a story about searching for the kitchens in hunger—not entirely untrue—in case he should meet a servant.

But after nearly an hour of wandering through hallways—some indoor, some open to the outside and the balmy, flower-scented evening air—he realized that suspicious servants were the least of his problems. The palace was massive, sprawling, and utterly indecipherable.

He was about to turn back to his chambers—assuming he could even find them, which was a big assumption—when Ruby spoke again, after more hours of silence.

* Left, left, right. *

“What?” he said, startled into answering her aloud. He looked around, relieved that they were alone.

* Left around this corner, left again at the end of the hallway, then right, across the courtyard. *

“Are you just guessing?” Vidarian was genuinely hungry now, and on the edge of irritation. Ruby offered no answer, so he followed the directions. He was sure he'd been down these corridors before—but the courtyard she directed him to was a new one.

* Down the stairs, third door, down the hallway. *

“How do you know this?” he said quietly, looking around again for observers.

* I don't know. * A hint of real worry colored her voice, but beneath it the strange tone he'd heard from her before, distant and diffuse.

She continued to direct him, only once leading them astray—* Strange, that wall wasn't there… *

Finally they came to an underground room deep in the heart of the palace. This one was guarded, and Vidarian offered a hasty and mostly true explanation of his imperial summons to the two pikemen who flanked the plain stone door.

The two guards exchanged looks, and the one on the right opened the door and disappeared inside. Vidarian barely had time to prepare another explanation when he reappeared again. To his surprise, he beckoned Vidarian inside.

A low ceiling in the next hallway forced the guard to angle his pike, and he bore it carefully down a series of mazelike passages. Just when Vidarian was sure he was being escorted out of the building by some other exit, the guard stopped before a final door, flanked by two more guards.

One of the guards opened the door—this one wooden and heavily carved—and the bluish light that spilled from the chamber beyond blinded Vidarian for several long moments.

When his eyes adjusted, it took him another long interval to make sense of what he was seeing.

Nine men and women sat evenly spaced around a circular table of heavy polished stone. The blue light came from thick glass lenses that they all wore. All but one of them were murmuring continuously, though none of them, as far as he could tell, were saying the same thing. In the center of the table was a glittering sphere, a glass orb larger than a gryphon's head, also glowing with blue light and worked all over with holes laid out in geometric patterns. It reminded him of