The Sorcerer of the North by John A. Flanagan

Author:John A. Flanagan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2010-02-26T05:00:00+00:00

21

ALYSS SWEPT TOWARD THE GRAY-GOWNED CASTLE LORD, ignoring Will. “Lord Orman,” she said, “it is so good of you to shelter me for these next few weeks!” She held out her hand, palm downward, to Orman, leaving him in no doubt as to whom she considered to be more senior in rank.

Orman grudgingly bent over the hand and brushed his lips to it. “Weeks, my lady?” he said. “I thought it was a matter of a few days? A week at most?”

“But surely not!” Alyss recoiled a little at his gaucherie. “ The roads to my fiancé’s castle are thick with snow and I have heard that there are wolves and bears in this countryside! I cannot possibly progress further until the roads clear—anxious as I am to be with my beloved Lord Farrell. Surely, Lord Orman, you would not begrudge me the hospitality promised by your poor dear father.”

Orman was trapped. It was interesting, Will thought, how the noble pecking order worked. Sour and ill-mannered as he might be, and a potential murderer to boot, Orman was overwhelmed by Alyss’s presumption of superior rank.

“Of course not, Lady Gwendolyn!” he said. “It was a mere inquiry, nothing more.”

But Gwendolyn had already dismissed him and was staring at Will as if he were some kind of inferior insect.

“And whom do we have here?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.

“A jongleur, my lady, arrived only a day ago himself.”

“Does this jongleur have a name?” she replied, her gaze fixing on Will. He hesitated. It was Orman’s place to introduce him. Someone of common rank could not initiate a conversation with a noblewoman such as Gwendolyn. As he watched the byplay between the two, Will was immensely impressed by her ability to play the role she had taken.

“Will Barton, my lady,” said Orman. By having him introduce Will to her, she had reinforced her superior rank once again. Will bowed deeply.

“At your service, my lady,” he said. Alyss studied him thoughtfully, one elbow cupped in her hand while her long, elegant fingers stroked her cheek.

“Are you a skilled performer, Will Barton?”

Will glanced sidelong at Orman. “I am a simple entertainer, my lady,” he said.

Orman shook his head disparagingly. “Folk songs and country ditties are his limit, I’m afraid, my lady. Hardly what you would call one of the higher rank.”

“Folk songs?” Alyss said, and broke into a shrill little laugh. “What fun! Very well, jongleur, you may attend me in my suite in an hour’s time. Perhaps your ditties can help me forget the misery of separation from my beloved.” She glanced at Orman.“I trust you have no objection, Orman?”

Orman shrugged. “None at all, my lady,” he said. “Please avail yourself of all our facilities.”

Will’s eyebrow shot up. So he was a “facility,” was he? Fortunately, he had his expression under control again before Orman noticed. The castle lord’s attention was fully occupied by Alyss, as she forged on with her superb impression of an overbearing noblewoman.

“Then perhaps you could have your kitchen deliver a light meal to my rooms as well, Orman?” she said.

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