Read Online Chronicles of Gilderam: Book One: Sunset by Kevin Kelleher - Free Book Online Page B

to?!”
    Owein took a step forward too. “As a matter of fact, –”
    “ Gentlemen , please!” said Shazahd, silencing them both. “Father, Owein and his men saved hundreds of lives last night – including yours and mine – and they will be accompanying us to Divar as per our agreement. Master Maeriod, if you ever speak disrespectfully to one of your superiors again you really will be fired. Have I made myself clear?”
    The two stood quietly for a moment before Owein said, “I’m sorry for speaking out of line, My Lady. Lord Ranaloc… do forgive me.”
    “Forgive?” Mentrat scoffed. “Ha! What use have I for forgiveness.” He turned his back to them and looked out over the city below. Shazahd tried to think of something to say, but Owein simply bowed his head to her and left them, heading around the deck.
    “Father,” she said, taking hold of the rail beside Mentrat. “I can sense you’re not well. Your pain is my pain. I can feel it.” His eyes flashed at her. “When we get to Divar… have you considered what I asked you?”
    “What? The healing ritual? Please.” He strode for the hatch.
    “Yes. Have you thought about it?” Shazahd followed him. “This will be the first opportunity you’ve had in ages. Maybe the last. You can’t bear this pain forever, Father, not alone. It’ll destroy you.”
    “I don’t have time for meaningless ceremonies,” he said. “I’ll heal myself. I don’t need any healing, anyway! I’m perfectly fine! ” he was shouting as he threw open the hatchway.
    A very surprised young man was standing on the other side, just about to come out onto the deck. He was a typified Gresadian dandy, dressed expertly in the latest fashion. He wore a richly embroidered frock coat that was covered in buttons and fit with giant cuffs, and his face was white and pink with cosmetic powders.
    “Hello there,” he said chipperly. “You must be Lord Ranaloc. Might I introduce myself.” He passed his cane from one gloved hand to the other so that he could take off his hat, which held a massive plume of fluffy feathers, and revealed a head of dark blonde hair pulled into a tight, short braid down the back of his neck. “My name is –”
    “Get out of my way!” Mentrat yelled, and pushed him aside, storming into the ship.
    “Another time, then!” he called after Mentrat.
    “Sorry about that,” said Shazahd as the young man stepped through the door. “My father can be a bit …well, temperamental at times.”
    “Your father? So you’re….”
    “Shazahd Ranaloc. How do you do.” She extended her hand.
    “My dear gods… you are even more resplendently beautiful than I was warned about.” He took her hand and kissed it. “ Shazahd …” he repeated to himself. “I say, that is not a common name. Is it Gresadian?”
    “No. It’s Valan.”
    “It’s absolutely gorgeous. What does it mean?”
    “I’m named after the rain nymph who scares away Tir and brings water to the desert.”
    “Exquisite.”
    “And what about your name?”
    “My good, sweet Lady Ranaloc… my name is Levwit Balkenthron, the Marquis of Pwij. And I am forever at your service.” He dipped into a very low, pompous bow. And stayed there.
    “Um… you may rise, Lord Balkenthron.”
    He shot up like bolt.
    “Please,” he said tenderly, and stepped close to her. “Call me … Marquis .” She laughed. He smiled at her. “Very well, Levwit then. Or whatever you wish. Oh my! – is that real Divaran heartroot?”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “It’s stunning. I’ve never seen one in person before. Is it true that when you unite it with its other half and plant it in the ground, it’ll grow a tree that never dies?”
    “That’s what they say. Ask me again in an eternity. I’ll let you know.” Shazahd started walking down the deck.
    “Ha! Such beauty and wit!” He walked with her. “Whoever holds the other half of that root is one lucky elf.”
    “Shouldn’t you be gathering your things, Marquis?