Perilous Travels (The Southern Continent Series Book 2) (11 page)

"My lord?" Gats asked in confusion, at a loss to comprehend what Grange was saying. 

"There's everything here I need.  I'll spend the night here.  Will breakfast be ready early, or later?  Is there anything I can do to help in the morning?" Grange asked. 

"Help what, my lord?" Gats felt even more bewildered by the strange turn in the conversation. 

"The staff - if I can help the staff with anything in the morning, you'll let me know?" Grange clarified. 

"Well, yes, certainly my lord," Gats said.  He stood in confusion momentarily.  "l'll be going now, my lord," he concluded there was nothing else to say under the circumstances. 

"Thank you Gats, and good night," Grange watched the servant leave, pulling the door closed behind himself as he departed. 

Once the man was gone, Grange went to the windows and opened them, pulling the sashes up and inserting the pins into the frames to hold them open.  The air outside was cooler, but barely entering the room.  Grange thought speculatively, then walked over to the door, opened it, and strode down to the far end of the corridor.  He opened the door to the empty room at the western end of the building, entered the room, then opened the windows that corresponded to his own, facing out the opposite end of the building.

Within five seconds he felt a breeze begin to blow through the top floor, carrying the warm, stale interior air out the western windows, until the door to the west room slammed shut in the breeze.

After he propped the door open with a wedge of wood from a decayed and abandoned desk in the room, Grange returned to his room, with the newly provided fourth floor breeze blowing gently in his face the entire length of the hallway.  After he was in his room, he checked the sturdiness of the table.  He pushed it, sat on it, and then moved it to the center of the room.  Once he had it in place, he climbed up and stood upon it, then reached up and pressed the hatch to the roof upward.

The hatch creaked open, and a new flow of air immediately rose through the opening, further cooling the room that Grange had chosen.

Grange gripped the sides of the hatch and pulled himself upward, then swung his torso over, and climbed onto the roof.  The air was cool, and a breeze blew nicely across the flat surface of the roof.  Brilliant stars overhead drew his attention momentarily, and then he took a glance around the roof.  Only a large water tank, presumably to supply the baths below, stood atop the flat surface.

He began to stroll along the perimeter of the roof to the west end, glancing out across the landscape of neighboring buildings that surrounded the embassy structure.   None were as tall as the roof where Grange stood, and he was able to see through the darkness to the blocks of buildings that extended in each direction. 

A few windows glowed with light, where some person kept a candle or lamp lit in a room, and even a moving shadow was occasionally visible as Grange’s eyes surveyed the night time city.

He felt alone, and he felt some comfort at last, a sense of removal from the troubles of the day, his unease over the sudden transition from village life to Palmland wizard once again.  The night time darkness was like a blanket spread over him, sheltering him from the emotions and troubles, and especially from the unhappy parting from Shaylee.

Grange returned to the center of the roof, then undressed and lay down upon his clothing, with his arms crossed under his head.  He stared up at the stars, and thought about Shaylee, and Grace, wondering why life had thrown so many complications at him.

Just as his eyes began to grow heavy and close, he heard a faint noise rise through the roof hatch.

“Grange?” he heard Grace’s voice call softly.  “Are you up here Grange?” she asked, evidently standing in his eastern room below, causing her voice to reach him clearly.

He lay still, holding his breath, and waited for the silence to stretch and grow.  After five minutes without further evidence of the girl’s voice, he gave a deep sigh, and finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 9

Grange woke up with a coating of dew upon him, the sun rising above the horizon, and a half dozen birds perched along the ridge of the hatch, chirping with one another as they looked down into the empty room below.  Grange sat up and stretched; he looked around at the empty roof as the birds flew away.  He pulled his damp clothes on, then climbed down into the fourth floor bedroom he had declared his own.

He stood on the table and restored the ceiling hatch to its place, then climbed down and went to the windows in the room.  The stuffiness and heat were gone from the top floor space, so the apprentice wizard closed the windows, left the room to go to the far end of the hall, and closed those windows as well.

Downstairs he found that none of the Palmland party members were arisen, and the servants were taken aback by his appearance so early in the day.

“My lord,” spoke the scullery maid he first stumbled upon as he left the large rooms in the front of the building and wandered into the working precincts in the back of the embassy building.  “Is there a problem my lord?  Can’t you sleep?”

“Not when the sun’s rising in the sky like it is,” Grange grinned.  “I’m awake and wondering what’s to do.  Can I help you with anything?” he asked the woman.

She looked at him with real concern in her eyes.  She was just as confused as Gats was by the idea, he told himself.  Grange had been expected to do his work while at Waters End village the previous several weeks, and had been expected to perform the early chores himself while an apprentice in Brieed’s quarters, and had certainly worked all his life before that.  The notion of not having productive work to do was alien to him, in contrast to what the household staff of the embassy expected of him.

“I think I’ll go take a walk around the neighborhood.  Is there an armory nearby where I can practice using my sword, or other weapons, or fighting?” Grange decided to temporarily give up on pursuing domestic activity, and asked the woman about other opportunities he might consider for how he could occupy himself in the morning.

“I don’t know of such things, I’m sure, my lord,” the woman apologized, and even bobbed her head.

“Well, thank you then, and have a good morning,” Grange gave up, and left the woman.  He exited the embassy and began to stroll in search of some time-consuming activity.  A short walk down the street he came back to the square he and Astel had passed the night before.  A small number of vendors were present with wagons and tables, selling basic foodstuffs for the local residents.

“Good gods, you’re a pale one, aren’t you?” said the first vendor he walked past.

Grange stopped to talk to the man, who was selling freshly caught fish on the table in front of his stool.

“I heard the foreigners were fair-skinned, but I hadn’t imagined anyone as light as you,” the man said conversationally.  “Is your skin thinner than ours?”

“My skin’s lighter than all the others foreigners,” Grange answered.  “The others from Palmland have a skin color closer to the people of Kilau.  I come from a different place than they do.

“How was the fishing today?  Is this a good catch?” he asked.

“This is good.  Look at these ale fish here,” he pointed to an untidy row of portly-looking carcasses that were on the front of the table.  “These’ll serve as a nice supper for someone.  The moon was dark and the fish were biting this morning, sure enough.”

“The moon was dark, wasn’t it?” Grange agreed.  “I looked up at the stars last night, and there wasn’t any moonlight to interfere at all.

“Do you know if there’s an armory in the area, a place I could practice sword play, or archery, or do other work with weapons?” Grange asked the man.

“There’s a boxing ring down the street,” the man said in a lowered, confidential voice.  “You can see some good fights there after sundown, if the police aren’t on patrol,” he hinted at the dubious legality of the site.  “They’ll take your bets, and the fights seem to be on the up-and-up,” he advised.

Grange thanked the man and moved on down the row of vendors who sold a variety of goods, talking to several, answering repeated questions about his unusual appearance, and finally learning of a place where local people practiced sports and weaponry.  He returned to the embassy two hours later, as the sun was gaining elevation and the temperatures were starting to rise.

Breakfast foods were being placed on the table, though the staff of the house was still surprised by Grange’s re-appearance.

“There was a man at the marketplace this morning who had ale fish this morning,” Grange said conversationally as he sat down and dipped his bread in honey to begin eating breakfast.

“Were they good looking, fresh fish?” asked one of the kitchen workers who was placing a rasher of bacon in front of him. 

“He said they were,” Grange answered.  He thought about the fish he had seen caught and eaten daily at his previous home in Waters Edge; these had appeared comparable to those tasty catches.  “They looked good to me.”

“Does he still have any?” the woman asked.

“It’s hard to say.  Business was picking up,” Grange estimated.  “I’d guess he sold out.”

“That’s too bad.  We should have snapped up some of those,” the woman said, then left the dining room to return to the kitchen.

Grange finished his meal as he heard the sounds of stirring overhead.  “You’ll have some company down here soon,” a man mentioned as he passed through while carrying pails of milk into the embassy.  “It’s about time for the rest of your lot to put in an appearance.”

Grange stood up, then left the embassy.  He felt a curious desire to remain apart from the others, particularly Grace, and so he went in pursuit of the armory he had learned of in the marketplace earlier.

The armory was a small one, used by local residents of the low nobility and the middle classes.  Grange’s appearance was an astonishing event for the few local men and handful of women who were engaged in desultory efforts as they practiced jousting with spears or fencing with swords.  Grange watched the work in the armory take place as a man approached hm.

“You’re not a local person are you?” the man asked in a friendly tone.  “Are you lost?  Can we help you find something?”

“I’m looking for a place to practice my weaponry and fighting work,” Grange replied.  “But I don’t think your folks are going to give me much of challenge, from what I see.  Is there a more competitive place I should look?” he asked bluntly.

“You may think you’re some high caliber fighter, but this happens to be the most competitive gymnasium in the city,” the man said indignantly.  “And I dare say that if you were to compete against our better members, you’d find you have a lot to learn.”

“These aren’t your better members?” Grange asked.

“No,” the man shook his head adamantly.  “These are the people who have time during the day, and want to learn; the top folks come in the evening.  Any of our regulars would look at them the same way you do.  But I know the best of our folks are as good as I say.  I don’t know how good you are,” he challenged.

Grange grinned at the comment.  “Is there some way to prove myself?”

“Do you have time for a test?” the other man gave a crooked grin in response.

And so it was that for the next half hour Grange and Luri, the manager of the armory, battled with each other with practice swords, spears, and without weapons.  Grange used technics suited for the staff while dueling with the wooden spear, costing him points in the scoring, but he won the sword work and tied at the hand-to-hand grappling.

“Are all pale people so good?” Luri asked him as they stood gasping and sweating at the end of the last match, a circle of the others in the gym gathered around to observe the contests.

“I’ve had more training than most,” Grange allowed.  “That’s what matters, not the way my skin looks.

“Do you have many training in the morning?” he asked.

“Not many,” Luri replied.  “We have most of our best members here in the evenings.  That’s when we have open competitions.”

Grange promised to pay a membership fee, then returned to the embassy with hopes of practicing at the armory that evening.  Upon his arrival at the embassy, he found Bartar, Astel, and Grace all sitting at the breakfast table.

“Are you always an early riser?” Bartar asked.  “We’ve heard that you’ve given the staff a great deal of concern by being up so early.”

“Grace used to make me do chores before dawn, so I’m used to awakening and starting early,” Grange answered.

“Where did you sleep last night?” Grace asked.  “I tried to find you, and you weren’t where I was told you were.”

“You went looking for him last night?” Astel asked.  “I thought you said you wanted to go straight to bed.”

“Well,” Grace blushed faintly, “I just wanted to make sure Grange was here.  I did go straight to bed afterwards.”

“I’d like to go to the palace today to pick up my belongings,” Grange said, as the other two young members of the party eyed one another following the revelation of Grace’s visit to Grange’s room.

“And if there’s nothing on tonight, I’d like to go to a local armory to practice my weaponry,” he finished, watching Lord Bartar for his response.

“So you’ve been here for less than a day and you already have a busy social calendar?” Bartar looked at Grange sternly.  A moment later he grinned.  “It’s your first day here; by all means explore and enjoy.

“By tomorrow I may have followed up on your promise to perform music with Grace at the hospitals in the city, so don’t schedule anything until I know what your musical calendar turns out to be,” the ambassador said.  “What armory are you involved in?”

“It’s the Prince of Arms,” Grange answered.

“I’ll go clean up and then go to the palace,” he said, then headed up the flight of stairs to his empty fourth floor.

He stopped when he reached the door way to his room at the east end of the building and stared in surprise.

A pair of house maids was finishing straightening up the room, a room that was significantly changed from the space he had left.

“Pardon us, my lord, our work is done,” the two girls curtsied, passed him in the doorway and headed out, then down the stairs.

Grange’s room had been cleaned, and outfitted with new furnishings while he was gone.  A bed, a desk, a new table, chairs, a changing screen, a pair of rugs, and several potted plants gave the space an inhabited look.

“Ladies,” Grange called after the maids.  He turned and followed them to the stairs, where they had begun to descend.  “What is this about, ladies?” he gestured backwards towards the room.

“The morning staff reported that you were kind enough to offer to help, and they asked us to return the favor, so we’ve just had the livery men bring some furniture up for you and we’ve cleaned up a bit,” one of the girls replies.  “I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, not at all.  I’m just surprised.  Thank you.  Please say thank you to everyone who helped,” he told them, then went back to his room.

He had no clean clothes to change into, he belatedly realized, nor were there bathing facilities on his floor.  He’d been used to having both the beach and a spring-fed stream to bathe in at Waters End, and he’d had luxurious facilities for bathing in Brieed’s quarters in the Palmland palace.

He went downstairs and found the same maids he had just spoken to, sweeping the hall on the third floor.  “Is there a place I could take a shower?” he asked the girls.

“There’s a shower in the room at the east end of the hall,” one of the girls spoke up.   “Directly below your room.  No one is staying there.”

Grange thanked the girls, then trotted down the hall.  The east room did appear empty, and he quickly undressed, then happily entered the bath and slipped into a shower of cool water, luxuriating in the feel of sweat and grime rinsing away.

“Hello?  Are you cleaning?” a voice called, as he closed his eyes and scrubbed his hair clean.

Grange started to turn under the shower water.  He opened his eyes, and saw that Grace was in the middle of hastily turning her back to him.

“Grace?” he called out, his voice rising an octave.  “What are you doing?”

She stood in the door of the bath, her back to him.  “I came down the hall to look at this room.  I’m thinking of moving into it.

“I didn’t know you were naked, I mean, I didn’t know you were here,” she explained.  “I didn’t really look.”

“Oh, and a package arrived from the palace for you.  I think it’s your things from your friends,” she added.

“Would you have it sent up to me please?  It has some clean clothes,” Grange requested.

“I’ll go right now,” Grace said, and she fled from the scene.

Within two minutes Gats appeared, carrying a box, and also with a robe draped over his arm.

“I understand this is yours, my lord,” the butler said.  “Will there be more things arriving?”

“No, I don’t have anything else,” Grange answered.

“You’ll need a more extensive wardrobe, I believe.  Shall I send the seamstress up to measure you?” the urbane servant artfully suggested.