Ambassador by Power P.S

Author:Power, P.S. [Power, P.S.]
Language: eng
Format: azw, mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Orange Cat Publishing
Published: 2012-03-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter eight

That these guys had actual talent kind of amazed him.

Dorgal had never seemed like more than an irritant, full of bluster, insults and vague intimidations, usually, but not always with Marko standing by to add bulk to the matter. Neither was huge, merchant class, not true royals, Tor reminded himself, his stomach lurching a little.

They could mock him, but if they tried to hurt him now, he could fight back, or even call them names without worrying about being kicked out of school. It was his house after all. Besides, he outranked them both now. It didn't leave him feeling any better, but it was true, and he had friends here that would back him up if need be.

Both played violins, a light dancing tune that brought to mind the sparkle of sunlight on green leaves after a rain. It really wasn't fair, he decided, for these men he really didn't care for to be that good at something. He noticed one of the music instructors standing behind them, fingering a guitar delicately, adding the whisper of falling rain to the whole thing.

That... was strange, because Tor knew him to be a Royal Guard. If he'd wanted to come in, he and his people could have just asked and sat with them rather than make pretense. The man was good though. Possibly the best Tor had ever heard, not that music was a strength of his. The other player was a woman, tall, plain, and at least as gifted as any of the others, also on guitar. The counterpoint she played to the rain sounds had to take timing on an epic scale. The men wore black clothing, light and airy, silk it looked like, but she wore a deep blue gown. It had slits to let the breeze in, but this house was cool inside, not cold, but the heat outdoors was oppressive, so the contrast had to leave her a little chill.

She looked to be in her late twenties, but it wasn't a hard lived look. More like the young and springing type of woman, whose life wasn't so hard as to wear them down before their time. Without waiting, or asking, they moved to one side and kept playing, and for some reason everyone else ignored them, except to occasionally tap along on the table or move their head in time to the music.

They played without a real break for the whole meal, stopping only after the dessert dishes were pulled away by the servants, dressed in green like they did at the palace. From there people kind of broke up a bit, most of them leaving the room without hesitation, wanting to get to the festivities. The first small fireworks display would be that night. It was the same device for all of them, but it had six settings on it. Bonita had taken personal charge of the three pound piece of tan glassy rock with its glowing sigils. All the same in look – simple line birds – like what children drew in school, with three lines above each.

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