The Duke In His Castle Read Online Free Page A

presentable, and debonair, this room, my Lord, this whole castle of yours, is one big compost pile. Yes, do not flinch now. Decrepitude and rot, everywhere. On the outside, weeds. Within, dust and dirt. Look around you! How can you allow these magnificent things to sit in such filthy conditions? Volumes of Maneille, and the Fire Magus, unshelved and littering a table! Ancient references removed from protective sleeves and left to grow brittle in sunlight! The encyclopedic works of Alghieri’s Sorcery shelved out of order and in most cases lying spine-down or flat on top of others—really, something must be done about this, immediately!”
    “Harmion!” he cries, unable to bear it any longer. “ Out! Get her out!”
    “Oh, come now, tsk-tsk,” she says. “I suppose—I surmise you really don’t understand. If you prefer not to listen to anything else I say, then consider this. Not unlike you, my Lord, Nairis, this poor creature whose deathly remains are here before you, disgusting you so, was an Heiress to a Dukedom. An Heiress to Yellow, I believe, or possibly Chartreuse, as that noble branch calls itself. The man down below in your foyer who was peddling this item, told me all about it, which naturally got me interested enough to take her remains off his hands. And because of what she is, or was—do you follow my logic, Sir?—the curse of our kin applies to her also, even in death. Which means that she—or her remains—once brought in, cannot be normally removed from the confines of this castle. Can’t even be budged—I’ve tried it, and so has the unfortunate vendor. Why else do you think he would not leave?”
    The Duke listens to her while things cold and slithering start moving in his mind, slow gears of a gigantic rusted machine.
    “Now, unless you would like this box to grace your entryway permanently,” Izelle continues, “you might consider cooperation. I venture that only with my Cousin’s sorcerous help might you remove this annoyance. Indeed, I can almost promise it—Cousin knows many things you’ll never guess. But—only after you agree to cooperate with me, or at least deport yourself civilly toward me. Now you see why I brought her—that is, Nairis—in here. Lucky coincidence? Thank heavens for traveling merchants who threaten mischief.”
    Rossian’s jaw rises and he wets his lips. “But—what nonsense,” he says. “Are you blackmailing me with that thing? Do you think I really care whether an idiotic relic—no matter how distasteful to me—is somewhere in my castle? If it can’t be taken outside, I’ll have it removed to some far corner and stowed in a cellar. Anywhere out of my sight. And it wouldn’t bother me.”
    “Oh, but obviously it would , my Lord; to quote the Poet, thou doth protest too much . Any fool, even a jester such as myself, can see that you’re afraid of it for some reason. What is it, the stench of death? Or the implications?”
    “Damnation and nonsense yet again. Why should I be afraid?”
    “I don’t know. Not yet. And really, it simply doesn’t matter for now. However, I promise you, at some point I will find out.”
    The Duke looks at her, anger suspended behind a mask of stone. “If it doesn’t matter, then why in the world are we talking about it? I still don’t understand what the devil kind of leverage she, this deceased Nairis, represents for you against me—in your mind, verily, only in your mind! Devious, nasty little thing, are you? Your White Duchess certainly picked a gadfly to send as my tormentor. Only, regardless of your ability to sting, whatever either of you expects to find here, is . . . not.”
    He pauses, breath failing his voice. He feels emptiness, a sense of futility, a need to simply turn around and pretend no one else is here in the room with him. How well it would be just to sit down in his familiar chair with its tall, padded back and comfortable, worn elbow rests and direct his gaze to a motionless object before