“This isn’t work,” the duke told her as he lifted the sheaf of parchments. With some warm feeling in his face, he looked both serious and kind, the sort of man it was easy to trust and depend on. Without affection or amusement to light his eyes, he was a rather forbidding middle-aged man with fleshy features, deepset brown eyes, and an eagle’s nose. The smile warmed a face that was still haggard, though he looked better to Sandry’s critical eye than he had even a week ago.
“Uncle,” she announced crisply, “just because the healers say you may ride again does not mean you are ready to take up your old work schedule as well.”ĭuke Vedris IV, ruler of Emelan, looked up at his favorite great-niece and smiled. Until he was fully recovered from his recent heart attack, he would need such aids to keep his people from thinking he might still die.Īnd it won’t hurt to stitch in signs for health and strength, either, she thought, fingers already itching to pick up needle and thread.
Magic steps tamora pierce skin#
A crimson tunic might warm his skin tone, and a touch of gold embroidery at his collar would add sparkle to his eyes. He liked to dress plainly, but there was no law that said he had to wear blacks, browns, and dark blues without any bright colors. Inspecting his stark white shirt, black tunic, and breeches, Sandry decided she would have to do something about the duke’s clothes. The globe was larger than Sandry’s, perfectly round and without flaws, its light as steady as the sun’s. He was reading a sheaf of papers by the light shed by a crystal globe. There sat her great-uncle in a wing-backed chair. And what odds that he hasn’t been up since four? With a sigh, she trotted downstairs and entered the room, a small library. A light showed under the door of a ground-floor room that opened onto the entrance hall. She plopped herself onto the top stair and tugged on her riding boots, then frowned. A silk rug knocked askew slid in her wake until it lay straight again. The cloth shifted until it lay flat and neat on the wood. They would rise at dawn anyway - why cause them to lose as much as an hour of rest when they worked so hard?Īs she passed a high table, she noted that the candlesticks atop it stood on a rumpled length of embroidered cloth. No amount of persuasion that she could look after herself quite nicely, thank you, was enough to send them back to bed. In six weeks’ residence at the castle, she had learned that most of them were light sleepers. It was because of the servants that she made so little noise. Holding up her stone to light the way, Sandry padded down the corridor in stockinged feet. The hour was early enough that most of the servants were still abed, and the torches set to burn in the halls the night before had guttered out. It shone brightly and steadily against the gloom. In the other she held a round blob of crystal threaded with dark lines. She was dressed for riding in broad-legged breeches, tunic, and blouse, and in one hand she carried her riding boots. Lady Sandrilene fa Toren opened the door to her room and stepped into the dark corridor. THIS BOOK - THIS QUARTET - WOULD PROBABLY
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