Read Online Slaves of the Mastery by William Nicholson - Free Book Online Page B

a little laugh. ‘You mustn’t make me smile, pixie. Every smile leaves a line.’
    ‘Once more, please.’
    When the dancing lesson was over, Kestrel accompanied Sisi to lunch with her father and mother in the royal carriage.
    ‘You are lucky not to have to dance, Kess.’
    ‘I thought it looked like fun.’
    ‘Fun? Why do you say that? It’s difficult, and annoying, and not fun at all.’
    The royal carriage was guarded by Johjan Guards. On this occasion, as they approached its canopied steps, Kestrel saw that Zohon, their commander, was standing with his men. He looked round, and
for a brief moment his eyes met hers. He gave her a look that said, we understand each other. Then his gaze rested for a moment on the veiled Johdila. Then he said something to one of his men,
clapped him on the shoulder with a loud and careless laugh, and turned and sauntered away. That over-loud laugh, that over-carefree swagger, told Kestrel much. A man so intent on showing his lack
of interest must be very interested indeed.
    They entered the royal carriage. Lunch was already on the table, and the Johanna was eager to begin. No attention was paid to Kestrel. The Johanna and his wife disapproved of her, both because
they thought she looked odd, and because they felt it was unbecoming for a princess to have a friend. They had made their views known to their daughter. Sisi had replied sharply,
    ‘Kestrel is my friend, and she goes where I go.’
    As a compromise, when in the royal carriage Kestrel did not eat at the main table, but at a little table of her own. This suited her very well, because she found that quite quickly everyone
forgot about her, and talked as if she wasn’t there.
    ‘How is my precious one today?’ said the Johanna, removing his daughter’s veil and looking proudly on her face.
    ‘Oh, papa,’ sighed Sisi. ‘I wish we were home.’
    The Johanna sighed too. He hated travel in all its forms. He too wanted to be back in his own city of Obagang, in his palace, with his dogs and his horses, sleeping at night in his
familiar-smelling big old bed.
    ‘It must be done, precious one.’
    In a melancholy frame of mind, he settled down to eat his pie.
    ‘I don’t understand why you have to do anything, papa, unless you want to.’
    ‘Eat up, Sisi,’ said her mother. ‘You’re looking a little peaky.’
    ‘It’s my duty to my people,’ the Johanna began; and then stopped, to take another mouthful. Also, it wasn’t easy to explain. The faraway land called the Mastery was just
one among many satellite nations that orbited the great sun of Gang; but somehow, like an ageing giant, mighty Gang had grown weaker as the Mastery had grown stronger, and its ruler, the Master,
was now annexing land that had long owed allegiance to Gang.
    There came a knock at the outer door. The Johanna frowned, and signed to his daughter to replace her veil.
    ‘Enter!’
    The Grand Vizier entered, and bowed. Grand Vizier Barzan was the only one of his subjects who would dare to intrude on a meal. His intrusions were frequent, always urgent, always accompanied by
warnings of catastrophe, and always delivered in low respectful tones, as if from beyond the tomb.
    ‘Our hopes are scattered to the winds, mightiness,’ he intoned. ‘The caravan master reports that he has completed his calculations. At our present rate of progress, we will
arrive a full month late.’
    ‘A month late! We can’t arrive a month late. It will be taken as an insult. Whose fault is it? Someone must be punished.’
    ‘Naturally, mightiness. I will see to it myself. In the meantime, in view of the problem, might we consider not stopping the caravan for the dancing lesson before lunch, or for lunch
itself, or for the rest after lunch, or for dinner?’
    ‘You’re right, Barzan. We must press on.’
    ‘We must stop for my rest,’ objected the Johdi. ‘I can’t rest in a moving carriage.’
    ‘No, my dear. Of course not.’
    ‘And you know if you