“Why did you even take King Elaboim’s stupid request, Ealdor?” Moara asked Elspith.

  Morning sunlight poured in from the arched windows of the countess’s second floor inner study, gently shaded by the thousand-year-old inland redwood tree in the courtyard. Elspith turned from the view and considered her former pupil. “I think today is going to be the first really hot day of the year, hot and muggy. It has been many years since I trained you, dear. There is no longer any need to call me your Ealdor.”

  Dobsen entered, carrying a large covered breakfast tray. “Have you eaten, Countess Moara?” the butler asked.

  “No.”

  “I thought as much.” Dobsen bowed slightly to the younger woman. “I remember your habits well, and have brought you a plate as well.”

  Elspith’s dignified butler fussed with setting the small table under the windows for two. It was the best spot for catching a breeze in the entire room, and more than half the time where Elspith ate all her meals. Running a county was time consuming.

  Breakfast today was eggs and a duck breast, pan fried, sliced thin, and smothered in a redwood-cream sauce on a bed of yams. The peppery smell of the sauce, coupled with the rich, gamy aroma of duck, made Elspith’s mouth water. Plenty of hot black tea accompanied the meal. “Come, and break the fast with me, my student.”

  Moara sat, opposite Elspith. After pouring tea, Dobsen retreated twenty paces to the opposite wall, far enough for privacy but close enough to fetch anything needed. “Lord of Light, Creator and source of all good things, we thank you for this meal, and ask that you multiply your bounty through the world.” Elspith prayed before the two ladies ate.

  “You are avoiding the question.” Moara said after a few bites. “Why search for your brother? Just to arrest him for Granduncle Elaboim?”

  “Hope.”

  The younger woman was dumbfounded. “How is arresting Arnulf hopeful?”

  The duck was delicious, the fatty meat perfectly cooked, the gaminess countered wonderfully by the pepper-and-cinnamon taste of the sauce. Elspith swallowed before answering. “My dear, even you should know why Arnulf vanished. And precisely how many family members I have left.” Do I need to literally connect the dots for her?

  “He left to be with his lover. And you still have cousins out there.”

  It was all Elspith could do to refrain from slamming her head into the table in frustration. “Alboim is exactly what I was hoping for. A child of my brother, who can inherit from me. Too many of my kin: my son, my cousins, my nephews and nieces, all of them closer to me than a second cousin, have met tragic, random, mostly painful accidents.”

  A light went on behind Moara’s eyes. “You did not want your brother; you wanted his children!”

  “I cannot prove that Brantly murdered everyone between him and Brantle, but he is clearly the only one who benefits. What I can know is that he and his father and grandfather have lusted after its riches for generations.” She replied, more calmly than she felt. She took a bite of the creamy, slightly runny eggs, then gestured with her fork.

  “In some ways I am glad that Arnulf is dead. I will never have to explain to him Theoban and Orcutt, or Father. He will never have to stand trial for those farcical accusations from the king. My hope is Tasia can convince him to allow me to adopt the boy. Then I can make my move against the Gastaps and crush that house forever.”

  ~*** *** ***~

  Suzsise cleared the remains of the breakfast. “Make sure you get something else to eat, Suzsise.” Alboim told her on the way out.

  “My lord,” Bennit said, “while we wait for your aunt’s summons, would you care to tour the rest of your suite?”

  He stood, and nodded. “You mean there’s more than this bedroom? I’ve seen five-star hotel rooms less luxurious than this. Except for the lack of AC.” He wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “It can’t be more than nine!”

  “Pardon, My Lord, what is ‘Aye See’?” he struggled with the foreign word. Lord Alboim’s explanation left him even more confused. Just how was cooling the air without massive and inefficient mage circles even possible? He mentally shook his head at the absurd strangeness of the Lord’s home world, and crossed the room, scooting around the bed, to open the door to the Day Room.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “This is the Heir’s Suite. Only the Countess’s rooms and the Nursery are larger.” Bennit pushed open the oversized door, and the two men walked through.

  “My. Lord.” Alboim was awestruck. “I thought my room was big, but this is the size of a pro basketball court, and then some.”

  The cathedral-style ceiling was braced by absolutely massive beams of that same cinnamon-red wood his furniture was made from, though these were obviously ancient and slightly faded with time. Here, the stone walls were faced with pearl-white-to-gray marble that reflected the light from little bronze plaques just above head-height all around.

  Alboim looked closely at one, and spotted one of those circles again behind the light, which seemed to be just hanging in the air. “A mage circle, my lord, do you not have magic in your world?”

  “No, we didn’t have magic at all. Until yesterday, all of this was pure imagination to me.” Dad’s imagination. But what is real, in his books, and what has been sanitized? Alboim wondered. Turning, he looked around the massive room once more, taking in the luxurious furniture, more of that red wood, a leather couch and chairs, and a large display of flutes ranging from something a little larger than a piccolo to one so massive it came with a stand to hold it off the ground, and coiled almost like a tuba toward the top. Straight, Alboim supposed, it would have been almost ten feet long, and slightly less than a foot in diameter. It was made from some type of dark-red polished bone, with eight simple brass stoppers. “What is this?” Alboim asked.

  “That was Lord Sylam’s double-bass flute.” Bennit replied. “It is a Brantle family heirloom, made of a dragon’s leg bone.”

  “And who is Lord Sylam?”

  “He was Lady Elspith’s son. He was killed about seven years ago now. Elvish raid. Most of the items in your suite were his. The mistress didn’t have the heart to store them away.” It wasn’t his place to tell Alboim he was the last hope for House Brantle. Lady Elspith deserved that honor. Sometimes, he feared, this House was cursed. How else to explain the winnowing of the line to a single woman past her childbearing years?

  Alboim said nothing further, but studied the monstrosity in front of him. It looked to be in good shape and well maintained. Several circles were etched on the body of the dragon bone flute, though he could not tell their purpose. “May I?”

  “It, like everything else here, is yours, my lord. Can you play?”

  “I’ve only played a concert flute, but the theory is similar. Let’s see…” He put his lips to the mouthpiece and blew without changing the fingering. Bennit felt the low tone Lord Alboim eventually produced in his bones almost as much as he could hear them. After a few moments experimenting with the stoppers, Lord Alboim played a simple tune the butler had never heard before.

  “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Lord Alboim named it. “Damn, that takes a lot of air.” He tried to lift it. “And heavy, too. At least a hundred fifty pounds.”

  Several small plain doors were to his left, if he were to face the outer door, and two ornate ones to the right. Curious, Alboim strode to open one of the smaller doors, to find a long but narrow room, three sets of narrow bunk beds along one wall, a series of open lockers and cubbyholes on the other, with a mage-light bolted to the ceiling. The next door opened to its exact twin. “For your personal slaves, My Lord. Men in one, women for the other.” Bennit answered the unasked question.

  A third door opened to a larger room with plain tables and chairs, a few counters. Clearly, this was a workplace or break area for his nonexistent slaves. The last door, however, was different. For one, it was clearly occupied. The furniture was still plain but of better quality and boasted a single fairly wide bed and a small window as well as several mage-lights. “Your butler’s quarters. I have taken the opportunity to move my clothing in here. This way if you ever need me, or Suzsise, who will move into the suite starting tonight, we can be there at a moment’s notice.”

  “And what is on the other side?” Alboim asked.

  “Your library and study, Lord.” The two walked the hundred feet across the room. Bennit’s shoes clicked faintly on the flagstone floor, while Al's sneakers hardly made a sound. Bennit opened the first door to reveal a room around twenty feet square. It boasted floor to ceiling bookshelves along three walls, fifteen feet high. Those shelves were mostly crammed full of books of various sizes, though one held knickknacks. An ink sketch of a much younger Aunt Elspith holding a baby with a tall, hawk-nosed man by her side, a boy of about fifteen between them. A slightly battered sword, nearly identical to a Renaissance sidesword, a few sculptures. A thick bear hide rug covered just over two-thirds of the floor, in the center of the room, with a table and chair upon it. The fourth wall was nearly all windows, with a very comfortable overstuffed chair and footstool under them. The air was sultry, damp, smelling slightly of mildew.

  Opening a book at random revealed canvas pages, closely covered with indecipherable marks, along with a few black mildew spots along the edges of the pages. “Whelp, I guess I will have to learn to read and write your language. And if you’re using canvas, I guess you don’t have paper. Too bad. Would you be able to get your hands on a primer or picture book?”

  “To learn the letters? I can find something. It may take a day or two.”

  “Can you read and write? Can you teach me?”

  “The Lady will surely find you a more suitable Ealdor.” Seeing his confusion, Bennit added. “A teacher.”

  “OK. Another thing to ask her about. I’m starting to think I’m going to need a list to remember it all. Well, I guess there’s only one room left. But first!” Alboim rushed out the door and back into the bedroom, where he retrieved his micro comp and solar charger. The charger, he hung outside the window, “to catch the most sunlight,” while the micro comp he placed on the footstool with a black wire running between the two.

  They never got the time to inspect the workroom, however. As they were leaving the library, a slave boy, dressed much like Bennit and sporting a silver collar proudly, knocked and entered. “My pardon for the intrusion, Lord Alboim, Butler Bennit. The Lady of the House wishes for your presence.”

  “Very well.” Alboim replied. “I just need to grab my bag first.”