The Lady Of The Storm Part 24

She wondered if he had sensed that in her. If that's what had caught his attention enough to interest him in a mere servant.

Hastings's face had turned an alarming shade of red. But the smaller man stood firm, staring down the general in what appeared to be a long-standing battle of wills. Cecily imagined the steward answered only to the elven lord, and none other. And that the man must be exceptionally good at his post to have value enough to thwart Breden of Dewhame's champion.

The noose of water about the steward's throat suddenly froze to solid crystals, then shattered upon the floor like so many diamonds.

"Devil take you, Hastings," growled the general. "You're always trying to spoil my fun."

The steward rubbed his red throat. "But who else will curb your appet.i.tes, General?"

And Fletcher threw back his head and laughed, his white hair reaching past his waist. "That's famous! Who indeed?" He lowered his head, brought his face close to Cecily's, and softened his voice to an intimate whisper. "Life is sweetened by a challenge, is it not? Fie, the bravery in those blue eyes. Whence does it come, I wonder? And can it be broken?"

Cecily stuck her nose in the air and the general laughed again.

He slapped Hastings on the back. "My thanks, as usual, lord steward. What an excellent game you have begun." And then strode away.

Cecily released a breath of relief.

Hastings nodded at her in sympathy. "General Fletcher loves a game as much as the elven lord himself. It is bad luck that you have caught his eye, my dear. Stay out of his way, and mayhap he will forget you."

"Thank you."

He shrugged. "Follow me."

Cecily complied, wondering if the steward could be a member of the Rebellion. She felt sure Sir Robert would not reveal all of his players to her. But she did not ask, for Hastings likely wouldn't tell her anyway. She decided that he might just be a good man among many evil ones, and accepted his attempts to rescue her with silent grat.i.tude.

Water flowed down the walls of the main hall just as it did on the outside of the palace, but fell into a marble trough running below and flowed to a large pond at the end of the walkway. Swans and ducks floated on the gla.s.sy surface, shaded by the weeping fronds of some trees that Cecily could not identify.

They pa.s.sed a staircase that resembled the interior rings of a needle sh.e.l.l, curving round to the upper levels of the palace, with the speckled brown spots on the ivory surface. But her guide continued on to the servants' stairs, stone treads worn to s.h.i.+ny smoothness, dark and dank all the way to the bas.e.m.e.nt floor.

"You will come here to take your meals if you are not bidden to take them with your employers," said Hastings. "You will also fetch dinner from here if they wish to dine in their rooms."

Cecily stared around the enormous stone chamber. The cook and several other servants stared back. Only the slaves kept their eyes averted, intent on their tasks, their ragged clothing and bare feet making their status obvious. Several servants sat at a ma.s.sive table of driftwood, frozen in the act of talking and chewing at the same time, studying Cecily with avid curiosity.

No fountains flowed here to relieve the heat of the ma.s.sive fireplace and many ovens, but the humidity coiled about the very floors, swirled along the walls. Cecily sucked in a deep breath, but the upper lip of the steward began to sweat, and with a grimace, he quickly led her back up the stairs.

Cecily went over the map she'd memorized in her head, coordinating it with the actual layout of the palace, trying to match the secret pa.s.sages with the public rooms.

It would take her days of exploring to gain her bearings.

Hastings took her up another flight of servants' stairs. "I caution you to avoid the ground floor where the court a.s.sembles, and the second floor, where the elven lord and the permanent members of the court reside."

"General Fletcher's rooms are there as well?"

"Just so." The steward stopped and opened the door at the top of the stairs. "Stay here on the first floor if at all possible. These are the guest chambers, where Lord and Lady Longhurst reside for the nonce."

Cecily hurried her steps to keep up with the spry man, pa.s.sing door after door-and fountain after fountain-until they came upon a set that looked identical to the others. "Thirteenth door on the right," she panted.

Hastings gave her a smile of approval, then knocked.

A lad opened the door, his freckled face scrunched up with authority, his small uniform smartly tailored to resemble an adult's. "Whom may I say is calling?"

Only the slight crack in his voice belied his formality.

"Hastings. And Miss Lucy Stratton, reporting for service."

The lad nodded, shut the door, and then promptly reappeared. "His lords.h.i.+p is waiting for ye."

Cecily smiled at the village accent in his voice, and the lad returned it hesitantly as she stepped past him into the apartments.

Lord Longhurst possessed a nose reminiscent of his name, and a set of intelligent hazel eyes that flashed with alarm and anger when Hastings recounted the scene in the hall with General Fletcher.

"Lucy is my cousin's daughter," replied Longhurst. "I promised to keep her safe while she was in my employ."

"I understand, my lord," replied Hastings. "It's why I thought to bring her to you myself, and warn you of the general's interest."

Cecily glanced between the two men. Her suspicions that both of them played a part in the Rebellion solidified.

Lady Longhurst, on the other hand, appeared oblivious to all but her own self-interests. "Can you set hair, Lucy?"

The lady had a sweet voice, reminding Cecily of her own mother's gentle tone. "Not very well, I'm afraid."

"Never mind, then. I just hoped to have a bit of variety. Ellen knows only one or two styles."

Cecily glanced at Ellen, a sweet-faced, rather vapid-looking girl. Better and better. She did not need clever people watching her. "I can, however, sew a fine st.i.tch. And I have designed my moth-a fine lady's clothing."

Lady Longhurst clapped her hands. "Oh, how divine!" She leaned over and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek. "You dear man, to send me a girl who can redesign my wardrobe! It's sadly in need of it-the damp and mold, don't you know? And we just can't afford the palace mantua-maker. My goodness, you'd think she spun gold instead of cloth to make her dresses."

Lord Longhurst patted his wife's hand, and exchanged a look with Hastings and Cecily. And then cleared his throat. "Well, I'm glad you are happy, dearest. And you see, Hastings, that Lucy will be kept busy enough to avoid the general's interest, so we need worry about it no longer."

Hastings bowed his way out of the room.

"Ellen," said Lady Longhurst, "why don't you show Lucy her room? She must settle in, and gain her rest tonight. For tomorrow we shall go shopping for new fabric!"

Lord Longhurst emitted a soft groan at his wife's words as Cecily followed the other girl from the withdrawing room, which boasted a small pond surrounded by rose trees, through a plain door into her new quarters.

Ellen pointed at the bed that sat across from her own. "I suppose yer not used to such finery, coming from the country and all."

Cecily eyed the small room with a raised brow. Perhaps the linens on her bed at home lacked the fineness of these, and her wardrobe lacked the intricate carving on the wood, but she would give much to be back in her humble cottage.

Ellen blinked. "Ach, don't mind me. Trying to put on airs, I am. And ye so homesick and all. I'm Ellen." And she thrust out her hand. Cecily clasped it gently. "The lad is my younger brother, Jimson. He has a bit of magic, ye know." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "He can hide in a mist. I'm warning ye, so yer careful when ye change yer clothing. He's a bit of a scamp."

Cecily smiled. "Thank you, Ellen."

"Oh, my. Ye talk fine fer a country girl. Do ye have any magic?"

"Do you?"

"Ach, no. Not enough elven blood in my family line. Jimson and I have different fathers. But ye-ye have the elven eyes. And such perfect skin and teeth."

Cecily shrugged, set down her bag, and tested the bed. Hard as a rock. "I inherited only the looks. I have no magic to speak of." And apparently that mattered a great deal within the palace, for the girl gave her a pitying look.

"We shall get along splendidly, then. For we must make ourselves useful with nothing but our own two hands. Our kind must stick together, don't ye know."

Cecily spent the next several days shopping for clothing material during the day. And sneaking about the secret pa.s.sages at night. And missing Giles so strongly that she m.u.f.fled her cries in her pillow.

Ellen had decided to trust her, and mistook her misery for homesickness, and tried to be even kinder. She slept like a stone, so Cecily need not worry about the girl becoming suspicious of her activities. Jimson, however, liked to spy on her.

Late one evening, Cecily had decided to explore a new tunnel in the pa.s.sages, discovering a peephole into General Fletcher's private rooms, when she felt the s.h.i.+ver of mist upon her back. She spun and squinted against the darkness, her small candle illuminating the dank corridor only so far.

A spot of humidity looked a bit... thicker than normal.

"Jimson," she whispered. "I know you're there."

The spot wavered, but did not dissipate.

Fie. She would have to make the lad show himself. She wiggled her fingers un.o.btrusively, and the mist evaporated to reveal the freckle-faced boy.

"Why are you spying on me?" she snapped.

"Why are ye sneaking about the palace? How did ye know about this pa.s.sage? I thought I was the only one who knew about it-and how did ye uncover me anyway? Only one of the n.o.bles can do that, and not too many of 'em, either."

Cecily tried to look bewildered. "What do you mean, uncover you? You just appeared out of the mist."

The lad lowered his head and scowled. "Ye know, Lucy. We can stand about all night pretendin' to be stupid. Or ye can just decide to trust me."

"Why should I?"

He twisted his foot in a crack on the stone floor. "Why do ye think Lord Longhurst employs me? Because of me sister? Lud, 'tis the other way around. I keep me ears open and tell him what I hear, and he keeps me sister happy."

"I see."

"No, ye don't. If the elven lord knew of me spying-if Owen Fletcher realized what I know of him-ha, if Lord Longhurst hisself knew what I suspect him to be a part of..."

Cecily frowned. Did Lord Longhurst realize how much the child had discovered? Should she tell him? But obviously the lord trusted the lad, or he wouldn't allow Jimson to become so privy to his life.

A sound behind her made her turn, place her eye to the peephole in the wall of the pa.s.sage, to behold a room decorated with thousands of seash.e.l.ls. They created mosaics on the walls, the floors, around several fountains. General Fletcher entered his bedchamber, swaying with drunkenness, the slave girl within his arms appearing just as foxed. He staggered to his bed, pulling the girl down with him, smothering her with kisses while she giggled.

A movement at the far end of the room drew Cecily's gaze, and she watched the water from a large decorative pond surrounded by statues of sharks displaying their teeth. The water suddenly rose into the air and swirled to form a sphere of translucent liquid. The slave girl's gaze snapped back to the general, who had lifted her in his arms and approached his magical creation.

"I will bring you pleasure like none you have ever experienced before," he boasted.

The girl smiled at him coyly, pressed her hand against the bulge of his breeches. "I have no doubts, my dear general. I can feel-"

Her screech cut off the rest of her sentence as the general tossed her into the ball of water. It swallowed her with a thick, sucking sound.

Cecily s.h.i.+vered at the similarity between the way Fletcher used his magic on the girl, and the way she had used it to love Giles. And the complete utter perversion of it. Whereas she had used the currents and flow to bring Giles pleasure, Fletcher used it for his own twisted satisfaction.

The water was so clear she could see every detail of the girl's struggle. Invisible currents tore at her clothing, ripping it from her body until she floated within the ball surrounded by naught but her thick white hair. She struggled to gain the surface, to break through the barrier of the water, but it thwarted her every effort with mad whorls of movement. Her eyes grew wild with the need to breathe, the effort to prevent herself from taking the breath that would drown her.

General Fletcher smiled as he watched her struggles, slowly removing his own clothing until he stood as naked as the girl. He had a wickedly beautiful body.

He strode toward the suspended sphere of water. "They never last long enough," he murmured.

His hands moved with elegant precision, and the girl rocked in time with his forceful motions, her legs spreading, her mouth open in a scream of pain...

Fletcher dove in with her.

Small hands covered Cecily's eyes. A low voice whispered in her ear. "'Tis not something a lady should see. Come away, Lucy."

And Cecily allowed the boy to lead her down the pa.s.sageway, until he turned and looked up at her. "Hush, now," he murmured.

She stifled the odd sound that she had not realized she'd been making. Wiped away the tears she had not known she'd been crying.

And decided to trust the boy.

They had reached a branching of the pa.s.sageway, and a small beam of weak sunlight and a slow trickle of water through a crack in the outer wall slanted across their path. Morning already. And she had to fit Lady Longhurst today, and start on the sacque dress designed for such a delicate silk she feared it would take hours to st.i.tch the pleats evenly.

Cecily collapsed on the floor, suppressing a sneeze as her petticoat and skirts puffed up dust despite the humidity in the air. Jimson crouched closely beside her.

"I have a map of the palace's secret pa.s.sages," she said.

The boy nodded, eyes wide.

"But I can't seem to find one leading to my fath-the elven lord's private chamber."

"Ye don't want to find it, lady."

"Do you know if there is one?"

He shook his head. "I'm not barmy enough to go near his rooms. No one does, 'cept mebbe that dragon of his."

"Kalah? Is the chamber that large, then? How would the beast manage it?"

Jimson scratched his head. "Big doors?"

Despite herself, Cecily smiled. She had yet to see the blue dragon. Should she approach the beast for help? But Mor'ded of Firehame had said he couldn't be sure Kalah would aid her, and the thought of approaching the monster and actually speaking to it...

Ah, how she wished she'd never left her little village. To tread such dangerous paths... to see such evil that existed in the world. To have her heart broken...

But then, she would never have known Giles's love.

And the image of a small cottage near the sea suddenly seemed like an isolated place. A lonely life.

Cecily straightened her spine. "Then I will have to find the pa.s.sage myself, Jimson. Or devise another way into the Imperial Lord's chamber. It's very important that I find one."

"I know I shall regret asking ye this, but, lady, why the h.e.l.l do ye want to sneak into his rooms?"