Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [72]
Groddenmitersay bit his lower lip. Was this a code? Perhaps she thought he was one of the king’s men. “Three-point-six?”
“Yes, my intriguing husband informed me the other day that we did not actually complete the fourth turn and had only managed three-point-six rotations. This is because we left at a different gate and visited the pastry shop. He’s mathematical as well as intriguing.”
“Yes, I see. I’ve heard that you are King Yellat’s daughter. May I ask why the villagers refer to you as Lady Peg instead of Princess Peg?”
“You may.”
Groddenmitersay waited. She was toying with him, laughing as she played these word games.
He cleared his throat. “Lady Peg, why are you addressed thusly instead of with your title, Princess Peg?”
“Well, one reason would be that my mother and father don’t approve of me and so I am not Princess to them. My sister is also out of favor because she always said our parents were unreasonable in expecting me to conform.”
The tumanhofer congratulated himself. He had directed the conversation toward his goal.
“So you are unconventional?”
“Yes.” With a contented smile on her face, she bobbed her head.
“Perhaps you like danger and intrigue?”
“Oh, intrigue most definitely. Remember my husband. I do like him a lot. But danger I prefer to leave in my daughter’s hands. She’s more suited to it, though Wizard Fenworth says she’s excitable.”
Groddenmitersay resisted rubbing his hands together in glee. Aha! A wizard. An interesting component complicating the scheme.
He needed to worm out a few more details. “So your daughter is involved in your escapades? How proud you must be of her.”
Lady Peg tilted her head and gave him a sideways glance. “Are you thinking of accolades, promenades, or balustrades? Because escapades are not exactly proper, and the royal family does not indulge in things that are not strictly correct. Even those in the family who have been cast out of the family but then returned. Accolades are common among royal circles. And I do enjoy a brisk promenade. And there are balustrades galore in the Amber Palace. But escapades are few and far between. I suppose you could say that escapades are questly by nature, and I do know family members who have participated in quests.”
The tumanhofer panted as they went through the gate to the square village garden. He had to walk quickly to keep up with her longer stride, and spewing all those words while practically racing down the street added to his breathless state. He’d barely made sense of what she’d said.
In truth, much of it hadn’t made sense. She was onto his game, most certainly. And the clever woman hoped to disarm him with chatter. Fortunately she slowed her pace once on the garden path.
The tumanhofer waited until his words would not be interspersed with gasps for air and then endeavored to restart the conversation with a new goal. “I imagine your house is a museum of fine art. I’ve noticed that your husband ships his paintings away. Do they go to your home to be hung?”
“Oh goodness, no! Who would want to live in a museum? I don’t even go into Verrin Schope’s library. That many books wanting you to take them down and read is discouraging. Even if you read one a day, it would take too long to read them all. Rather than disappoint those I wouldn’t get to, I don’t read any of them. That way none could feel slighted.”
“You believe the books have feelings?”
“Of course not. What a peculiar thing to say.”
“But you said—”
“Well, I guess I was a little sharp with you, but I can’t abide nonsense, you know. And trying to see things through your eyes, I can see that one could say that books have feelings. One feels heavy and another feels light. One is bound with leather, which feels different from one bound with cloth pressed on board.”
Groddenmitersay realized she had not answered the question of where the paintings were shipped. She was, indeed, a clever adversary.
His head hurt. He squinted at the sun. They would soon pass a bench in the shade.
“Would you care to rest, Lady Schope?”
“Not