A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [136]
"Are they done yet?"
"Patience, Lameira. I cannot see, I tell thee." The oldest Lady of Chambers peered again through the seeing glass that Alresse Delcamper had gifted her with these six summers ago to mark her fiftieth year of turning linens and dusting, sighed, and said severely, "Faerla, I won't be pleased to have to tell thee again: cease thy gasping and fluttering. Do you want all Flowfoam to think we of Varandaur have never seen fine things before? Or know how to comport ourselves before royalty?"
"Oh, Lady Orele, 'tis not this palace-though it does go on for miles, does it not? Nor yet these haughty courtiers that the river seems to spew up like the silver halake run, boat after boat of them! 'Tis that mighty magic that the Lord Flaeros commands, to snatch us all-in a trice-thither!"
"He did not command it, Faerla; he arranged it. Our Lord Flaeros is many things, but 'sorcerer' is thankfully not one of them." Orele raised herself a trifle and bent a little to one side, leaning on her silver-handled cane-another gift of the Delcampers, but Lameira knew quite well that she'd more than earned it, in the unwelcome embraces of at least three ardent uncles whose trust Orele had never, by so much as a glance, betrayed-to see the distant gardens better. "They have so allowed their trees to grow untrammeled," she said slowly, "that overlooking yon end garden is extremely difficult. They're moving apart, though… yes, I do believe they are done."
She straightened, whirled about, and clapped her hands. "Scamper, girls, scamper! The nightchambers won't prepare themselves, you know! I'm sure Lord Flaeros would not have gone to the truly fearsome expense of such a great spellweaving-and mind, Faerla, the cost is by far the most frightening thing about that magic, not the hazy moment you spent being brought here, so please have done about it-to bring, as you say, all of us all this way did he not want us to show these Aglirtans how we of Varandaur can set things to rights! Ignore the smoke and the blood and the rubble; such things are no concern of ours-but if I see the Lord Flaeros so much as frown when the king and the other heroes of Aglirta come in to feasting and to retire to bed, I shall be most displeased… and mark you this: I've little doubt that my displeasure will be as nothing compared to his!"
As if her words had been a warning from the gods, the doors of the chamber burst open, and Flaeros Delcamper strode in. "They're coming, Orele, they're coming! Is everything ready?"
Orele leaned on her cane to make her deepest courtesy. The youngest Lord Delcamper might be a wastrel and a bard and always messing about with foreigners and their wars -but he was the only Delcamper man she knew who thanked servants, and thought of their trouble, or sprang to help them when a carrychest was too heavy or a corner too high for one's most perilous reach with a duster. "Not as ready as I'd like it, Lord, but 'twill not disgrace us, no… I hope."
Flaeros shot out an arm to help her to her feet, kissed her hand as if she really was a highborn lady, and laughed. "That tells me it's as ready as any outland place can ever be that you haven't had years to flog into shape, Lady! I knew you could do it!"
"B-but why?" Faerla blurted, too excited to be quelled by Orele's furious look. The youngest chambermaid hadn't scampered very far to do her last dusting, it seemed-certainly not far enough. " 'Tis a pleasure to serve your will, my Lord, and a delight to set anyplace to rights, still more so a grand palace-but why all this trouble for folk half Asmarand away from us? Aglirta has been here all our lives-and at war all that time too, seemingly-why these few folk, now?"
Flaeros Delcamper turned to face her rather stiffly, but instead of the towering fury that Orele feared-and fully expected-to burst forth, the maids saw his eyes fill with tears. He smiled, and said, "I'm glad you asked that, Faerla. I'm sure many are thinking similar thoughts; always be bold enough to speak