The Empire of Gut and Bone by M. T. Anderson

Author:M. T. Anderson [Anderson, M. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-545-38877-1
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2011-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

At breakfast, the boys kept their eye out for Lambert Gwestin, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he doesn’t work breakfast,” said Gregory. He watched without pleasure as the servants brought another platter of steamed eels on the table. He complained, “How is it you people have figured out magic, but you still haven’t figured out the cheese Danish?”

“We’re the Court,” said Gwynyfer. “We get delicacies at every meal.”

Brian and Gregory found the delicacies hard to take. Though few of the Court actually made it to breakfast in the dining hall of the palace, the servants brought out course after course of meats in heavy sauces: hard little birds, eels wound into knots, the heads of some horned animal decorated with marzipan lace. The gravy on the heads was thin and watery with lumps of flour. The grease on the birds was starting to turn white.

Gwynyfer took a silver spatula and eagerly heaped a five-winged roast onto her plate. After she’d taken a few bites, she told the boys, “Last night some refugees arrived from down in the digestive tract. They escaped from the Mannequin Resistance. Later, they’re going to have an Imperial audience with the Stub. You really should see it. It will be a lark.”

Brian considered, “Maybe it would be a good time to bring up the Thusser again, and the idea of going back to Old Norumbega.”

Gwynyfer looked a little impatient. “That would be quite dull. You’ve talked about that before. You should make up something different.”

“But,” Brian said, “Earth needs you to enforce the Rules of the Game.”

“And we need you to entertain us,” said Gwynyfer. “Things aren’t easy in the Innards. We don’t want to think about the awful things and the boring things.” She put her hand on Brian’s wrist. She told him, “It would be so much better for you and for us if you worked out a trick with fiery batons.”

Brian stared dejectedly at her hand. Gregory glared jealously at it.

“Let’s go,” Brian said to Gregory. “We have to find Mr. Gwestin.”

Gregory didn’t want to leave Gwynyfer. He said to her, “Do you want to come along?”

She shrugged and nodded.

They asked the head butler where Mr. Gwestin was. He informed them Mr. Gwestin had been transferred and no longer worked in the dining hall. No, he did not know where Mr. Gwestin had been sent. The Seneschal might know. It was the Seneschal’s business to oversee the running of the palace.

“It’s very suspicious that he’s been reassigned,” said Brian as they wandered off to find the Seneschal. “Yesterday it seemed like Lord Dainsplint didn’t want us to talk to Mr. Gwestin.”

“Lord Dainsplint doesn’t want you to investigate the murder at all,” said Gwynyfer. “He wants to win the election for the new regent. If it turns out that the assassin is from his party — the Norumbegan Social Club — and you prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, he’ll never win. He must suspect that members of his party are involved.”

“Suspect,” said Gregory, “or know?”

Gwynyfer agreed, “Or know.

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