Read Online The Prince Commands: Being Sundry Adventures of Michael Karl, Sometime Crown Prince & Pretender to the Thrown of Morvania by Andre Norton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andre Norton
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bothered over Jan thinking me young enough to enjoy milk, but I do. So you can just hand it over, Mr. Man.”
And Michael Karl sipped from the tall glass while the American glanced through the pile of letters on his desk. He did it very untidily, letting the opened envelopes drift to the floor instead of putting them in the basket by his side, Michael Karl noted with disapproval.
“What am I doing now?” Ericson asked suddenly. Michael Karl flushed as he realized that he had been staring at his host.
“I was thinking,” he said ruefully, “what my guardian would have done to me if I had thrown papers around like that. Though I'm not denying that it's a relief to do it sometimes.”
“You're a very orderly person aren't you, John Stephenson?” asked the American. His eyes had their amused look. “But you see I was brought up to throw things around and have some one pick them up for me. Perhaps if I had had your guardian instead of”—he checked himself quickly.
“You wouldn't have liked my guardian—” began Michael Karl to cover the pause. He wondered what Ericson had been about to say.
“That reminds me, hadn't you better cable him that you are all right? He'll probably learn through the newspapers of the Crown Prince's capture and he will be worrying.”
“My guardian,” replied Michael Karl with some truth, “washed his hands of me when I started on this fool trip.”
Ericson looked at him with some surprise. “I can hardly believe that, but I suppose it's so. And now you're going to bed.”
“But it isn't even noon yet,” protested Michael Karl.
“Those feet of yours are going to get their chance to rest.”
So Breck and Kanda were sent for again and Michael Karl found himself in a room which he thought would be a comfortable size for a Union Station but was far too large for a bedroom. And in spite of all his protests he was, fifteen minutes later, half sitting, half lying in a bed big enough for one of the small steamers. It could, he discovered after experimenting, be shut off from the room by heavy crimson velvet curtains.
“How do you like it?” asked the American from the door. He crossed the room to dump a couple of books and three of the reddest apples Michael Karl had ever seen on the bed. “Something to keep you busy,” he commented as Michael Karl examined his spoils.
“It's very nice,” said Michael Karl looking about him, “but don't you think that it's rather on the large side?”
“This is very small compared to the Royal bedroom in the Palace. I think a whole army could comfortably hold maneuvers there.”
Jan poked his gray head around the corner of the door. “Dominde,” he said in his humble voice, “the telephone demands your attendance.”
“Sorry. If there's anything you want, ring.” Ericson looped the velvet bell cord in reach of Michael Karl's hand and hurried out.
Michael Karl picked up the books. The History of Rein Fortress, he read aloud, The History of the Karloffs in Rein.
He put them down and frowned uncertainly. Did the American—guess anything? Why had they left the Inn so suddenly when Michael Karl had been assured that it was perfectly safe to stay, and why had the American delivered that little speech about the duty of Royalty as if he had known that Michael Karl was planning to—well, desert? And now these books about Rein and the Karloffs. Michael Karl shook his head. He wasn't going to worry about the future. Well, not just yet, at least.
Snuggling back into his pillows he selected the reddest and hardest of the apples to sink his teeth into while he opened The History of Rein Fortress, and began to read.
Chapter VI
Of A Chance Discovery And A Passage Underground
“What are you doing?”
Michael Karl looked up guiltily from piling the peeling of his breakfast orange in a topheavy tower. “I'm thinking,” he answered soberly.
He had been up and about, only hobbling to be sure, for the past two days and it was a week since
And Michael Karl sipped from the tall glass while the American glanced through the pile of letters on his desk. He did it very untidily, letting the opened envelopes drift to the floor instead of putting them in the basket by his side, Michael Karl noted with disapproval.
“What am I doing now?” Ericson asked suddenly. Michael Karl flushed as he realized that he had been staring at his host.
“I was thinking,” he said ruefully, “what my guardian would have done to me if I had thrown papers around like that. Though I'm not denying that it's a relief to do it sometimes.”
“You're a very orderly person aren't you, John Stephenson?” asked the American. His eyes had their amused look. “But you see I was brought up to throw things around and have some one pick them up for me. Perhaps if I had had your guardian instead of”—he checked himself quickly.
“You wouldn't have liked my guardian—” began Michael Karl to cover the pause. He wondered what Ericson had been about to say.
“That reminds me, hadn't you better cable him that you are all right? He'll probably learn through the newspapers of the Crown Prince's capture and he will be worrying.”
“My guardian,” replied Michael Karl with some truth, “washed his hands of me when I started on this fool trip.”
Ericson looked at him with some surprise. “I can hardly believe that, but I suppose it's so. And now you're going to bed.”
“But it isn't even noon yet,” protested Michael Karl.
“Those feet of yours are going to get their chance to rest.”
So Breck and Kanda were sent for again and Michael Karl found himself in a room which he thought would be a comfortable size for a Union Station but was far too large for a bedroom. And in spite of all his protests he was, fifteen minutes later, half sitting, half lying in a bed big enough for one of the small steamers. It could, he discovered after experimenting, be shut off from the room by heavy crimson velvet curtains.
“How do you like it?” asked the American from the door. He crossed the room to dump a couple of books and three of the reddest apples Michael Karl had ever seen on the bed. “Something to keep you busy,” he commented as Michael Karl examined his spoils.
“It's very nice,” said Michael Karl looking about him, “but don't you think that it's rather on the large side?”
“This is very small compared to the Royal bedroom in the Palace. I think a whole army could comfortably hold maneuvers there.”
Jan poked his gray head around the corner of the door. “Dominde,” he said in his humble voice, “the telephone demands your attendance.”
“Sorry. If there's anything you want, ring.” Ericson looped the velvet bell cord in reach of Michael Karl's hand and hurried out.
Michael Karl picked up the books. The History of Rein Fortress, he read aloud, The History of the Karloffs in Rein.
He put them down and frowned uncertainly. Did the American—guess anything? Why had they left the Inn so suddenly when Michael Karl had been assured that it was perfectly safe to stay, and why had the American delivered that little speech about the duty of Royalty as if he had known that Michael Karl was planning to—well, desert? And now these books about Rein and the Karloffs. Michael Karl shook his head. He wasn't going to worry about the future. Well, not just yet, at least.
Snuggling back into his pillows he selected the reddest and hardest of the apples to sink his teeth into while he opened The History of Rein Fortress, and began to read.
Chapter VI
Of A Chance Discovery And A Passage Underground
“What are you doing?”
Michael Karl looked up guiltily from piling the peeling of his breakfast orange in a topheavy tower. “I'm thinking,” he answered soberly.
He had been up and about, only hobbling to be sure, for the past two days and it was a week since
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