(eng) L. E. Modesitt - Corean Chronicles 08 by Lady-Protector

Author:Lady-Protector [Lady-Protector]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

29

Mykella looked from the window of her formal study out across the palace courtyard to the park across the avenue. After two days of violent storms, Tridi was bright and clear. Green was everywhere. Unfortunately, that meant much of the “green” consisted of recently leafed-out branches ripped from trees, bushes flattened onto stone walkways, and general vegetative carnage. The steward’s men were busy sweeping leaves out of the front and side courtyards, but no gardeners had appeared to clean up the park.

She turned from the window, thinking. The ministers’ meeting on Duadi had been short, with little discussion. Gharyk had not brought up the matter of the removal of Gaoler Huatyn. Mykella appreciated his tact because there was something about the document that bothered her.

Or is it the problem of replacing Huatyn?

She just wasn’t certain, and yet she didn’t want to end up like her father, not making decisions until she had every possible fact in place—and then being wrong anyway. One way or another, she needed to come to a decision before long.

“Lady … Assistant Minister Duchael.”

“Have him come in.”

The door opened, and a slightly disarrayed Duchael stepped in, bowing hurriedly and deeply. “Lady-Protector … I regret having to bring this matter to your attention, but…”

“But what?”

“The storms were so violent that the East and South Rivers overflowed their banks, and the Vedra washed out the towpath in several places.” Duchael’s eyes flickered toward the windows, then back to Mykella.

“Then we need to inspect those areas immediately.”

“They need to be repaired, Lady-Protector.”

“I’m certain that they do, but there is almost no barge traffic at the moment. A glass or two will not make much difference.”

“They are metaled paths,” murmured Duchael.

“Indeed, and what lies under that stone and gravel? Come. We will go see.”

“Yes, Lady.”

“Where is the worst damage?”

“It is a half vingt west of the oxen pens south of the Great Piers.”

“We’ll start there, but make sure you know all the locations. I’d like to see every break in the towpaths near Tempre.”

“Yes, Lady.”

Although Duchael’s reply was firm and direct, Mykella could sense more than a little concern hidden behind his words. Why? Storms happen.

Still, his worry suggested that something was not well, and Mykella suspected she knew the cause, but she was better off not dashing to conclusions until she inspected the destruction.

Less than half a glass later, Mykella, Duchael, and Maeltor, accompanied by a squad of Southern Guards, rode westward on the avenue toward the Great Piers. A warmish breeze blew out of the southwest, and as it swirled around Mykella, she found herself riding through pockets of cool moist air, then warm dryness.

“Captain Maeltor … directions to that … location will be waiting when we return?” Mykella did not wish to be more specific about the request she had made earlier, not with Duchael riding to her right.

“As you ordered, Lady.”

Duchael frowned but said nothing although worry continued to radiate from him.

The avenue had been cleared—mostly—except for a few larger downed trees they had to ride around, but the paving stones and sidewalks were littered with leaves and smaller branches.

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