Read Online The Lord-Protector's Daughter by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online

in?”
    â€œNo, sir,” replied Kiedryn. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”
    Mykella could easily sense what the chief clerk had not said— I’ve never seen him this early . She tried to visualize herself with the shelves of ledgers between her and Kiedryn…and Berenyt.
    Berenyt turned in her direction, frowning, and blinking. “Oh…there you are, Mykella. For a moment…” He shook his head. “You haven’t seen Father this morning?”
    â€œWe seldom see him in the morning,” Mykella replied. “I’ve always assumed that he had other duties.”
    â€œHe does indeed.”
    Behind the words Mykella detected a sense of more than you could possibly understand , mixed with condescension and amusement. She managed a simpering smile, although she felt like gagging, and replied, “He offers much to Lanachrona.”
    â€œAs does your father.” Berenyt’s words were polite enough and sounded warm enough, but the feeling behind them was cool and a touch scornful. He turned from Mykella back to face Kiedryn. “I hope to find him somewhere, but if I don’t, please tell him I was here.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Mykella merely nodded, if courteously.
    Berenyt ignored her and stepped out of the chamber, closing the door firmly enough that it shook in its frame.
    For the slightest instant, a look of disapproval crossed Kiedryn’s face, then vanished.
    Mykella just sat at her table for several moments, not really looking at the open ledger. For an instant when he had first looked in her direction, she thought, Berenyt had not really seen her. Had that been her doing? Or his abstraction and interest in other matters? How could she tell?
    She really wanted to work more with the Table, but she dared not go down into the depths of the palace too often because, sooner or later, the guards would reveal how often she was going there, and either Jeraxylt or her father would discover her destination. That would lead to even more questions, and those were questions she dared not answer truthfully—and she detested lying, even though she knew that sometimes it was unavoidable, especially for a woman in Tempre.
    The soarer’s words kept coming back to her, although she had not seen or sensed the winged Ancient except the two times. Was using the Table her Talent? Just to be able to see what was happening elsewhere? And what about her growing ability to sense what others were feeling? Or the ability to see without sight in the darkness?
    Did her suspicions about the missing tariff funds have anything at all to do with saving her land? What, really, could she do? And how?

9
    That evening after dinner, Mykella sat in the family parlor, a history of Lanachrona in her lap. Across from her, Salyna was seated at one end of the green velvet settee closest to the low fire in the hearth, working on a needlepoint crest. Mykella couldn’t help but contrast that domesticity to the focused ferocity within Salyna that doubtless surfaced when she had a saber in her hand. Yet Mykella could understand and accept that duality in Salyna—and in herself, although she had no desire to wield a blade. What she could not understand was Rachylana’s acceptance and willing subordination to men, especially to someone like Berenyt.
    While Mykella finally succeeded in losing herself in reading the history, in time she looked up, half-bemused, half-irritated. She’d read the parts about Mykel, about how he’d been a Cadmian majer in command of an entire battalion, how he had routed all the forces of the Reillies and Squawts just before the Great Cataclysm, and how he had followed a soarer’s instructions to cross the boiling Vedra to Tempre to protect the city. Chapter after chapter had followed, telling of all the battles he had fought and won over the years in establishing and expanding safe boundaries for Lanachrona and in vanquishing