found himself in an open area at
the front of the house. There were three stories to the main house,
all with arched windows and even some gargoyles adorning the roof. To
the left hand side there was indeed a bell tower, but the bell had
long gone. It seemed it served as a roost for pigeons or doves now,
for Kestan was sure he caught movement up there out of the corner of
his eye.
He ascended the steps and pulled on the door bell. Amid great
creaking and clanking, the door was pulled open and he was greeted
with an older man whose clothes looked in even worse repair than
those of the farmer he'd just left. This man was dressed in a dirty
brown leather coat that reached his shins; underneath it his shirt
was filthy with sweat and tobacco stains. A brown and black tabby cat
was trailing around his feet and mewling frantically.
"Hush, Mag! He's expected! Kestan, is it?"
"Yes," replied Kestan.
"This way, the master wants to see you first."
As the man led Kestan deeper into the house, he caught a brief
glimpse of a black and white chequered floor with numerous vases of
flowers in little alcoves, but even with the flowers the house did
not feel at all homely. There was a melancholy air about the place...
and then Kestan chastised himself for even thinking such notions!
There was nothing wrong with it; it was just and strange and new.
That was all. He'd been at the palace for over five years; any change
was bound to be upsetting at first.
The filthy man pushed open a door in a white frame, leaving a greasy
smudge on the painted wood and Kestan shuddered, resisting the urge
to wipe it off with his jacket sleeve. Inside the room were a large
fat man standing by the fireplace; a thin, bony woman sitting on the
settee and a younger girl seated beside her. Both the women had been
doing embroidery before Kestan entered the room, but once he was in
they set their work aside and glanced at him with ill-disguised
curiosity. The thin woman was dressed in an afternoon gown of dark
blue velvet while her companion was in a plainer dress of green wool.
"Garom, take Master Kestan'ss luggage to his room. The blue
bedroom."
"The blue bedroom. Right you are, sir."
The woman, who Kestan could only assume to be Grunhall's wife –
although he could scarcely have imagined two such disparate beings
conjoined in matrimony – clasped her hands together and seemed
about to make some comment. Her husband quelled the impulse with a
stern frown in her direction and she slumped back against the chair.
Kestan relinquished his trunk reluctantly to Garom, wondering if the
man would rummage through his things. He seemed the type to do just
that.
Kestan removed his hat and bowed to the women, who both blushed.
"This is my wife, Nydia," Grunhall pointed out the bony
woman. "And her companion, Misstress Jessamyn."
"How do you do?" Kestan asked politely and they nodded
their heads at him.
"Ladies, if you would leave us for a moment, I have some things
to discuss with Master Kestan."
Nydia looked as if she was about to protest, but turned to her
companion instead. "Come along, Jessamyn, don't dawdle you silly
girl."
"Yes, madam." The two women gathered up their embroidery
and left them alone.
"Now Kestan, King Varathorn has recommended you quite highly.
But he has made no mention of your unnaturalness ."
Grunhall shuddered at the thought, his three chins wobbling on very
little neck. "But I have other sources of information and I know
what you really are."
Kestan could feel himself paling. Grunhall held Kestan's life in his
hands now he knew that secret about him.
"However, I know you were a soldier for old King Thornwald and
that counts for a lot with me. I also know that you graduated with
honours from the miliatry academy and that Varathorn's boy will be
getting into the academy, in large part due to your tuition. If
you're good enough for a King's son, you're good enough for mine. I
want Nunos ready to take the entrance exam for the military
the front of the house. There were three stories to the main house,
all with arched windows and even some gargoyles adorning the roof. To
the left hand side there was indeed a bell tower, but the bell had
long gone. It seemed it served as a roost for pigeons or doves now,
for Kestan was sure he caught movement up there out of the corner of
his eye.
He ascended the steps and pulled on the door bell. Amid great
creaking and clanking, the door was pulled open and he was greeted
with an older man whose clothes looked in even worse repair than
those of the farmer he'd just left. This man was dressed in a dirty
brown leather coat that reached his shins; underneath it his shirt
was filthy with sweat and tobacco stains. A brown and black tabby cat
was trailing around his feet and mewling frantically.
"Hush, Mag! He's expected! Kestan, is it?"
"Yes," replied Kestan.
"This way, the master wants to see you first."
As the man led Kestan deeper into the house, he caught a brief
glimpse of a black and white chequered floor with numerous vases of
flowers in little alcoves, but even with the flowers the house did
not feel at all homely. There was a melancholy air about the place...
and then Kestan chastised himself for even thinking such notions!
There was nothing wrong with it; it was just and strange and new.
That was all. He'd been at the palace for over five years; any change
was bound to be upsetting at first.
The filthy man pushed open a door in a white frame, leaving a greasy
smudge on the painted wood and Kestan shuddered, resisting the urge
to wipe it off with his jacket sleeve. Inside the room were a large
fat man standing by the fireplace; a thin, bony woman sitting on the
settee and a younger girl seated beside her. Both the women had been
doing embroidery before Kestan entered the room, but once he was in
they set their work aside and glanced at him with ill-disguised
curiosity. The thin woman was dressed in an afternoon gown of dark
blue velvet while her companion was in a plainer dress of green wool.
"Garom, take Master Kestan'ss luggage to his room. The blue
bedroom."
"The blue bedroom. Right you are, sir."
The woman, who Kestan could only assume to be Grunhall's wife –
although he could scarcely have imagined two such disparate beings
conjoined in matrimony – clasped her hands together and seemed
about to make some comment. Her husband quelled the impulse with a
stern frown in her direction and she slumped back against the chair.
Kestan relinquished his trunk reluctantly to Garom, wondering if the
man would rummage through his things. He seemed the type to do just
that.
Kestan removed his hat and bowed to the women, who both blushed.
"This is my wife, Nydia," Grunhall pointed out the bony
woman. "And her companion, Misstress Jessamyn."
"How do you do?" Kestan asked politely and they nodded
their heads at him.
"Ladies, if you would leave us for a moment, I have some things
to discuss with Master Kestan."
Nydia looked as if she was about to protest, but turned to her
companion instead. "Come along, Jessamyn, don't dawdle you silly
girl."
"Yes, madam." The two women gathered up their embroidery
and left them alone.
"Now Kestan, King Varathorn has recommended you quite highly.
But he has made no mention of your unnaturalness ."
Grunhall shuddered at the thought, his three chins wobbling on very
little neck. "But I have other sources of information and I know
what you really are."
Kestan could feel himself paling. Grunhall held Kestan's life in his
hands now he knew that secret about him.
"However, I know you were a soldier for old King Thornwald and
that counts for a lot with me. I also know that you graduated with
honours from the miliatry academy and that Varathorn's boy will be
getting into the academy, in large part due to your tuition. If
you're good enough for a King's son, you're good enough for mine. I
want Nunos ready to take the entrance exam for the military
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