Blood of Dragons (Page 60)
‘Like Greft,’ one of them had exclaimed as he stared at her boy. A taller keeper on the verge of manhood had bade him hush and pulled the scarlet-scaled boy aside. Reyn had read her anguished look and drawn the keepers off, while suggesting strongly that Alise help her find a place to bathe and rest. Now here she was, barely able to make sense of things as the evening drew to a close. She had come all this way, hoping to be greeted by dragons. None had appeared. Now all she wanted was Reyn back, wanted her little family close at hand again.
At the end of the hall Alise escorted her through a door that swung wide at her touch. The room had been dark but it lit as they entered, gaining sourceless light slowly until a warm glow suffused the room. There was no hearth, Malta noticed with dismay, and almost as if Alise heard her, she said, ‘The rooms stay comfortably warm. We don’t know how. The chairs and the beds soften as you sit on them, and we don’t know how that works either. There is still so much to learn about Kelsingra. There is no bedding either. Perhaps the Elderlings had no need for it when the rooms stayed warm. Some of the closets had clothing in them, and a few of the shelves and cupboards held personal items. Some things were of obvious use, such as brushes and necklaces, and others we didn’t understand at all. I’ve urged all the keepers to leave non-essential items in place until we can learn more. But,’ a small sigh, ‘they do not listen to me very well. Jerd is the worst, treasure-hunting from building to building and amassing more jewellery than one woman could wear in a lifetime, with no thought as to where it came from or who wore it before her. Goblets made of gold, as if we had wine worthy of them. A mirror that shows what it should have reflected the moment before, so she can examine the back of her head. And useful items as well. A pot that warms whatever is put into it. Stockings with sturdy soles that adjust to the wearer’s foot … Oh. I’m sorry. I’m chattering away while you stand there. Come. This room only has a table and chairs, as if for a gathering of people, as you can see. But here is a bedchamber, and those other two doors also go to bedchambers. As soon as you sit down on one of the beds, it will start to soften to your form.’
Malta nodded dumbly. ‘Reyn?’ she asked wearily, and Alise promised, ‘I’ll see that he knows where you are. You are exhausted, my dear. Go to bed right away, for the sake of your child, if not yourself.’
‘His things,’ she said, turning to Alise. ‘Will my trunks be brought here? There is a blue case that has all Phron’s things in it, his extra napkins, his little robes and soft blankets …’ She let her voice trail away as she wondered what was wrong with her, to be so stupid as to leave such things behind. She could not seem to focus her thoughts; her mind seemed to buzz with a thousand half-remembered ideas …
‘Malta!’ Alise’s voice was almost sharp and the Bingtown woman gave her elbow a gentle shake. ‘This city is full of Elderling memories. This building does not seem to be as heavy with them as some, but still, it is easy to let your mind drift here and lose track of what you were thinking and doing. Will you be all right sleeping here tonight? Do you think you should return to the ship?’
Alise looked intrigued and Malta had to smile. ‘It’s a long tale, but if you wish, I’ll tell it to you. But not now. I’m exhausted.’
‘Of course you are. And I heard Tarman’s crew say that everything on board would be off-loaded tonight so that they could move him to a safer place across the river. I’ll go and make sure your things are brought here. Now. Before I leave, is there anything else you need?’
Alise laughed, the sort of laugh that women share. ‘Of course. It was so clever of him to keep the keepers occupied. All of them are buzzing with curiosity about why you are here and all you can teach them of Elderling ways. The King and the Queen of the Elderlings. Did you ever think those titles would come to mean so much? For here, they do. I heard the youngsters talking.’