Brokedown Palace by Steven Brust

Author:Steven Brust [Brust, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780765315045
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 1985-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A FEW MINUTES LATER THEY WERE IN THE GREAT HALL. IT was filled, as usual, but the two of them were given a respectful distance by everyone else.

They tried to make small talk, but Miklós refused to discuss what he had experienced in Faerie, and László seemed reluctant to discuss his marriage or the problems of ruling the land. Soon an uncomfortable silence settled. Then Miklós cleared his throat.

“Laci, I feel that I should apologize to you. I know how strongly you feel—”

“You don’t need to speak of it, Miki.”

“Perhaps. But I feel I should. May I?”

The King huddled with himself for a moment, then nodded brusquely. His hands settled on the arms of his chair, as if he were prepared to grip them if he needed to.

“I know how strongly you feel about the Palace,” Miklós continued. “I have said many things I shouldn’t have said, for many reasons. None of them good. In the future, I will try to curb my tongue.” He looked at the room around them, seeing the cracked plaster, crumbling sandstone, and rotting beams; but also seeing the shadows the lamps made against the walls, the arch of the timbers that held up the ceiling, the graceful carvings over the doorways. “I love this place, Laci. Perhaps not as much as you or in the same way, but I love it. You should know that.”

The King closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to master his emotions. “Thank you, Miki. That is good to know. For my part,” he paused and looked around much as Miklós had, “I admit that all is not perfect here. Perhaps now that the four of us are together, we can repair it—put it into the kind of shape it was meant to be in. The kind of shape it can be in. I’ve spoken to Mariska of it; she has many ideas. With your new skills and your travels, you should have ideas that will be helpful.”

“Yes,” said Miklós. “We will work together.” His smile matched the King’s.

Then László’s face darkened.

“What is it, Laci? If there is a problem, now is the time to speak of it.”

“Yes, Miklós, I am prepared, now, today, to forgive you anything, if forgiveness is required.”

“I am prepared to ask for it, Laci, if I have committed a wrong.”

“That is the question. Have you?”

Miklós felt his brows contract. “If you speak of something in particular, I don’t know what.”

“Your room. The thing that is growing there.”

“Ah! The little plant. Yes, I—”

“Little plant!”

Miklós frowned. “What is it?”

The King stood up. “Come with me,” he said. “Let us look at this little plant of yours!”

Miklós followed him down and to his room. László threw aside the curtain and Miklós gasped.

“By the Goddess!”

“Yes,” said László. He gripped Miklós’s arm—hard but not painfully. “Miklós, I am asking you. Is this your doing?”

With an effort, Miklós tore his eyes away from the tree. He searched the King’s face. Then, looking directly at him, he said, “László, I have no idea what this is or how it came to be here.

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