Envoy to Earth (The Young Ancients Book 14) by P. S. Power

Author:P. S. Power [Power, P. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orange Cat Publishing
Published: 2014-04-29T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter eight

The scene inside was as normal as any other very old, but nicely put together dwelling would have been. It was a large place, being about half the size of the King's Palace in the Capital, and done in the traditional wood and stone inside. The big difference here was that this lady, the Dowager Harris, seemed to love carpets. There wasn't just a carpet in each room they walked through, but barely a single spec of the stone floor underneath could be seen.

They were all in red and gold too, but had an aged sense about them, with the centers being worn down compared to the edges, after hundreds or thousands of people had walked on them for decades. He didn't judge however, since the rest of the place looked expensive enough. What the carpets were for he didn't know. Or ask about. He was a bit more concerned with the fact that this lady, a noble, knew who he was by name.

In the last week he'd met with over half a dozen people that he'd known before who could barely make out who he was, even after being told. How had this lady, a stranger to him in every way, looked at his face and instantly make out who he was supposed to be? There was an easy answer of course, in that one of the other people that he'd visited in the last days had simply communicated ahead. Probably with her Count, but that didn't mean the information hadn't been passed to the man's mother in conversation. Gerent relaxed, since that made more sense than anything else would. So much that it nearly had to be true.

It wasn't that at all.

The woman, who had slightly blue hair, which had to be some kind of dye used to hide the white of it, cleared her throat and shuffled slowly to her sitting room. She didn't seem either happy or comfortable, and if she were normally chatty, that function was failing her at the moment. Ger's own ability that way had seemed to have temporarily fled, he'd noticed, so didn't blame her. The air inside was close, feeling like it hadn't moved much that day, and smelled a bit of heavy spices. Cinnamon and a few others that he didn't recognize, not having been around that kind of thing enough to have learned.

After the woman waved for them to sit in various chairs, she directed Gerent to a specific one, it was just right for him, meaning made for a medium sized giant, and had a soft red pillow on the seat. It was attached somehow to the polished wood that made the frame. It kept him from sliding. An old and wizened finger pointed up at the wall across from him, where he noticed a rather plain looking older man in a painting. He wasn't good looking, and even the artist that had done the work couldn't make his loopy grin into anything that seemed sane, apparently. The eyes weren't vacant, but they held a strange sense of madness.

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