Dark Lord of Derkholm by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

looks of panic and consternation.
    â€œOr Kit?” added Mara.
    â€œMay I consider?” Shona asked rather hectically. “Perhaps I’ll come when Callette’s finished—and there isn’t a piano in Aunt’s house, is there?”
    â€œYes, there is,” said Mara. She got up. “That’s settled then. I’ll expect you and Callette and Elda the day after tomorrow. You’re going to love my pink embroidered hangings!”
    Breaking up the family, too, Derk thought miserably as Mara rushed away.
    Blade, fairly naturally, tried to rush away, too, as soon as supper was over. But Shona deftly seized him by one arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, where Elda was swilling plates with careless abandon.
    â€œBlade, you really have to help me do something!” Shona whispered. “Haven’t you noticed? ”
    â€œNoticed what?” Blade asked.
    â€œMum and Dad. They’re terminally not getting on.”
    â€œThey’re always quarreling. You worry too much,” Elda said, shoving three wet plates into the rack.
    â€œWash those again,” Shona said automatically. “No, that’s just the trouble. They’re not quarreling. Dad should have exploded just now about the money, and he hardly said a word.”
    Blade sighed, knowing that his carefree time was over. “I see what you mean.”

SIX
    U MRU ’ S PRIESTLY KINGDOM was north of Derkholm, adjoining King Luther’s. Derk, riding Beauty, descended over the Temple of Anscher toward midday, dazzled by the sun on the huge golden domes. Other domes of other gods caught the sun, too, all over the city, but Umru’s temple to Umru’s god was the biggest. Anscher must surely look kindly on a high priest who had done so much for him, Derk thought. Perhaps Umru could persuade Anscher to show himself to Pilgrims. It was worth a try, anyway.
    â€œBhrright!” Beauty remarked as she wheeled down toward the main courtyard.
    â€œIt surely is,” Derk agreed. “Umru has to find something to do with his money.” He sighed as Beauty descended. He had been trying hard not to think of money, or of how much Mara might have borrowed, or of the mermaid daughter they would never have now. Not thinking of these things left a cold emptiness somewhere in the middle of his mind. I must think of an entirely different creature, he told himself as Beauty’s hooves touched the ground.
    Willing, fanatical-looking men rushed to look after Beauty. More of them rushed to conduct Derk to the presence of Umru. He was handed over to a covey of acolytes, who handed him to priests, who handed him in turn to more priests, who led him through long upstairs cloisters painted with gold leaf to where Umru was waiting, smiling, in an empty, sun-filled room.
    â€œYou could have landed on my balcony if I had known your horse had wings,” Umru said to him. “Come. Sit.” He led Derk to a couple of thronelike chairs.
    This room was only empty after a fashion, Derk thought, settling among carved cedarwood and gold. The floor was a pattern of blocks of wood, variously scented and colored. Astoundingly beautiful silk rugs lay here and there upon it. The ceiling was a masterpiece of marble carved to resemble a tree in bloom, and the many narrow window frames were like trees, too, with fruit. In between, the walls were inlaid with more masterpieces in colored stone. But it was still an austere room, fit for a priest. Umru was a funny mixture, Derk thought. His vestments looked simple, but the cost of them would buy Derkholm several times over. Derk suddenly noticed that his own boots had not been cleaned after milking. And one of his cuffs was fraying.
    â€œI’ve come to ask you to help me,” he said, tucking the offensive cuff under and doubling his feet back until the boots were under the sumptuous chair.
    â€œAnd you can help me, my friend,” said Umru. “As you must have