The Rogue Knight
Page 43
“It is discourteous to invade my boundaries,” Jepson chided.
“Not as discourteous as turning away your employer’s only child,” Skye shot back. “Do you think I’d be here if it wasn’t important? Please wake her.”
“As you insist,” he said with a slight bow. He turned to the door. “Am I to understand these urchins form your entourage?”
“They’re with me, yes,” Skye replied. “Come in, boys.”
“Are you certain they’re safe?” Jepson asked, eyeing them warily.
“I’m positive,” Skye said.
Cole stepped through the door, careful not to touch the butler. Jace came after him.
“Kimber, door,” Jepson said.
The dog padded away from Skye and nudged the door shut.
Jepson faced Skye stiffly. “You may wait in the parlor. Please encourage the young gentlemen to keep their hands off the furnishings.”
The butler went up the stairs, taking the small lantern with him. Skye produced a glowing orb in her hand to replace the lost light. She led the boys down a hall floored with glossy, reddish wood. Cole passed a vibrant floral arrangement in a delicate, pale green vase. A sliding wooden door granted access to the parlor.
The room had a high coffered ceiling, a huge marble fireplace, and a floor where narrow, crisscrossing boards formed complex patterns. A tall grandfather clock stood against one wall, pendulum swinging. All the furniture looked too expensive to use.
Skye tossed her orb up, and it split apart, darting to various glass objects around the room and filling them with light. The objects worked as lamps, illuminating the room evenly.
“How’d you walk through Jepson?” Cole asked.
“He’s a figment,” Skye said. “An autonomous seeming that mimics life. Like a semblance with no substance, made of pure illusion.”
“Are there many figments around?” Cole asked.
“They’re not common,” Skye said. “Figments are extremely difficult to create. I’m no rookie with seemings, and I can’t make one. My mother has some skills as an enchantress, but a figment is far beyond her abilities as well. I’m not sure anyone in Elloweer, besides the Grand Shaper, could currently make a figment with enough complexity to imitate a human being. Mother inherited Jepson from her parents. He has been in the family for generations.”
“He didn’t actually open the door,” Cole realized.
“Right,” Skye said. “Kimber did. Jepson partners with trained dogs. He trains them himself—no small feat when he can’t pet them or directly feed them. Each dog is named Kimber. The current Kimber is looking old. I’ve seen her twice before, I think. He’s probably already working with a replacement.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The clock tolled the half hour. Cole saw that the clock read six thirty. He pointed at it. “Does that mean six and a half hours since sunset?” Cole asked.
“That’s right,” Skye said. “Sometimes I forget you’re from outside. Those with clocks reset them to twelve at dawn and at sunset. Some nights are eight hours long. Some are fourteen. Eleven or so is most typical.”
“How’d your mom get so loaded?” Jace asked.
“She inherited most of her fortune,” Skye said. “Father worked with a local bank. He passed away more than ten years ago. My great-grandfather was a well-regarded alderman. He accomplished a lot of good for Merriston and for Elloweer. Mother keeps a busy calendar, but doesn’t really do much. She knows everyone, though.”
“Do you think she’ll help us?” Cole asked.
“There’s a chance, or we wouldn’t be here,” Skye said. “It depends. She’ll make us wait before appearing. It’s all part of the social games she plays. You might want to get comfortable.”
Cole sat down on a soft armchair. Jace lay down on a sofa. Cole only lasted five minutes or so before his eyes began to droop.
He awoke with Skye shaking his shoulder. “She’s coming,” she said. “Look alive.”
Standing up, Cole rubbed his face, hoping to wipe away the signs of sleep. His mouth tasted fuzzy, and his eyes didn’t want to focus quite right. According to the clock, they had been waiting for nearly an hour.
Lady Madeline glided slowly into the room and regarded her daughter coldly. She was old, with painted eyebrows and a gray pile of hair pinned at the top of her head. Slightly plump, she wore a dark dress with sleeves and a long, full skirt that rustled as she moved. Many rings sparkled on her fingers, and gems dangled from her earlobes. She carried a black cane, though she didn’t appear to need it.
“This seems an appropriate hour for a visit from a spy,” Lady Madeline said, her voice proper and authoritative, her words clearly pronounced. “At least there is a chance my neighbors did not see you enter. What possesses you, child?”
“I just got to town,” Skye said. “My caravan was attacked by the Rogue Knight.”
“Ah,” Lady Madeline said. “All is clear. You are famously successful and came here to turn over a new leaf, but the Rogue Knight took all your money, so you need an enormous loan to tide you over. You didn’t happen to discover his identity?”
“No, Mother.”
Lady Madeline shook her head. “If you’re going to be a spy, child, at least learn your trade.”
“I’m not a spy,” Skye said.
“Of course not,” Lady Madeline patronized. “You’re a revolutionary. One of those invisible people. I considered ‘spy’ a kinder term than ‘criminal’ or ‘traitor.’ How would you prefer me to label you?”
“For starters, I’m your daughter,” Skye said.
Lady Madeline shook her head sadly. “I am too literal to pretend. If you wish for me to view you as my daughter, you must act the part. I gave up any hope of that long ago.”
Cole stole a glance at Jace. His friend widened his eyes to convey astonishment. Lady Madeline seemed like the harshest mom ever! Why did Skye think she might help them?
Lady Madeline looked Cole’s way. “I see you brought along some of your fellow anarchists. Is it just me, or are your cohorts getting younger and younger? What would their poor mothers say about you keeping them up so long past their bedtimes?”
“This is Cole and Jace,” Skye said. “They have no parents. I’ve hired them as servants. They were with the ambushed caravan.”
“Not as discourteous as turning away your employer’s only child,” Skye shot back. “Do you think I’d be here if it wasn’t important? Please wake her.”
“As you insist,” he said with a slight bow. He turned to the door. “Am I to understand these urchins form your entourage?”
“They’re with me, yes,” Skye replied. “Come in, boys.”
“Are you certain they’re safe?” Jepson asked, eyeing them warily.
“I’m positive,” Skye said.
Cole stepped through the door, careful not to touch the butler. Jace came after him.
“Kimber, door,” Jepson said.
The dog padded away from Skye and nudged the door shut.
Jepson faced Skye stiffly. “You may wait in the parlor. Please encourage the young gentlemen to keep their hands off the furnishings.”
The butler went up the stairs, taking the small lantern with him. Skye produced a glowing orb in her hand to replace the lost light. She led the boys down a hall floored with glossy, reddish wood. Cole passed a vibrant floral arrangement in a delicate, pale green vase. A sliding wooden door granted access to the parlor.
The room had a high coffered ceiling, a huge marble fireplace, and a floor where narrow, crisscrossing boards formed complex patterns. A tall grandfather clock stood against one wall, pendulum swinging. All the furniture looked too expensive to use.
Skye tossed her orb up, and it split apart, darting to various glass objects around the room and filling them with light. The objects worked as lamps, illuminating the room evenly.
“How’d you walk through Jepson?” Cole asked.
“He’s a figment,” Skye said. “An autonomous seeming that mimics life. Like a semblance with no substance, made of pure illusion.”
“Are there many figments around?” Cole asked.
“They’re not common,” Skye said. “Figments are extremely difficult to create. I’m no rookie with seemings, and I can’t make one. My mother has some skills as an enchantress, but a figment is far beyond her abilities as well. I’m not sure anyone in Elloweer, besides the Grand Shaper, could currently make a figment with enough complexity to imitate a human being. Mother inherited Jepson from her parents. He has been in the family for generations.”
“He didn’t actually open the door,” Cole realized.
“Right,” Skye said. “Kimber did. Jepson partners with trained dogs. He trains them himself—no small feat when he can’t pet them or directly feed them. Each dog is named Kimber. The current Kimber is looking old. I’ve seen her twice before, I think. He’s probably already working with a replacement.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The clock tolled the half hour. Cole saw that the clock read six thirty. He pointed at it. “Does that mean six and a half hours since sunset?” Cole asked.
“That’s right,” Skye said. “Sometimes I forget you’re from outside. Those with clocks reset them to twelve at dawn and at sunset. Some nights are eight hours long. Some are fourteen. Eleven or so is most typical.”
“How’d your mom get so loaded?” Jace asked.
“She inherited most of her fortune,” Skye said. “Father worked with a local bank. He passed away more than ten years ago. My great-grandfather was a well-regarded alderman. He accomplished a lot of good for Merriston and for Elloweer. Mother keeps a busy calendar, but doesn’t really do much. She knows everyone, though.”
“Do you think she’ll help us?” Cole asked.
“There’s a chance, or we wouldn’t be here,” Skye said. “It depends. She’ll make us wait before appearing. It’s all part of the social games she plays. You might want to get comfortable.”
Cole sat down on a soft armchair. Jace lay down on a sofa. Cole only lasted five minutes or so before his eyes began to droop.
He awoke with Skye shaking his shoulder. “She’s coming,” she said. “Look alive.”
Standing up, Cole rubbed his face, hoping to wipe away the signs of sleep. His mouth tasted fuzzy, and his eyes didn’t want to focus quite right. According to the clock, they had been waiting for nearly an hour.
Lady Madeline glided slowly into the room and regarded her daughter coldly. She was old, with painted eyebrows and a gray pile of hair pinned at the top of her head. Slightly plump, she wore a dark dress with sleeves and a long, full skirt that rustled as she moved. Many rings sparkled on her fingers, and gems dangled from her earlobes. She carried a black cane, though she didn’t appear to need it.
“This seems an appropriate hour for a visit from a spy,” Lady Madeline said, her voice proper and authoritative, her words clearly pronounced. “At least there is a chance my neighbors did not see you enter. What possesses you, child?”
“I just got to town,” Skye said. “My caravan was attacked by the Rogue Knight.”
“Ah,” Lady Madeline said. “All is clear. You are famously successful and came here to turn over a new leaf, but the Rogue Knight took all your money, so you need an enormous loan to tide you over. You didn’t happen to discover his identity?”
“No, Mother.”
Lady Madeline shook her head. “If you’re going to be a spy, child, at least learn your trade.”
“I’m not a spy,” Skye said.
“Of course not,” Lady Madeline patronized. “You’re a revolutionary. One of those invisible people. I considered ‘spy’ a kinder term than ‘criminal’ or ‘traitor.’ How would you prefer me to label you?”
“For starters, I’m your daughter,” Skye said.
Lady Madeline shook her head sadly. “I am too literal to pretend. If you wish for me to view you as my daughter, you must act the part. I gave up any hope of that long ago.”
Cole stole a glance at Jace. His friend widened his eyes to convey astonishment. Lady Madeline seemed like the harshest mom ever! Why did Skye think she might help them?
Lady Madeline looked Cole’s way. “I see you brought along some of your fellow anarchists. Is it just me, or are your cohorts getting younger and younger? What would their poor mothers say about you keeping them up so long past their bedtimes?”
“This is Cole and Jace,” Skye said. “They have no parents. I’ve hired them as servants. They were with the ambushed caravan.”
