CUTTING CLASSES
May
Electrum poked his ears through the soft holes in his hat. The morning star was low in the sky. In another hour the sun would rise just like it had for the last two months.
Ever since he delivered Simon’s letter, he couldn’t get Mirta’s tapestries out of his mind. What custom materials could she possibly need to complete the silver harbor picture? If only he could have found a way to see inside the fat envelope.
The tapestry wouldn’t even be finished for several more months. Better to concentrate on Silverthorn and what he was up to. He was developing an uncharacteristic obsession for antiquated writings.
On several mornings he had found the prince reading obsolete books and pouring through Simon’s dusty old scrolls. He hadn’t mentioned the cat again, and on the surface he seemed reconciled to separation from Amber.
But Electrum wasn’t as old as all that. He might be ready for retirement, but he knew that Silverthorn was working on something. He just needed to find out what the sprite had in mind before he got himself in trouble and dragged others along.
Gilder was acting strange too. He always seemed to be carrying around that strange little box. It might be time to see what was in it.
As Electrum headed down the corridor, Mirta’s suggestion of a ship of his own tugged at his mind. Disguising a ship would be difficult, and it was far too dangerous not to. On the other hand, Ragnar had mentioned a need for someone with connections. Maybe his years in the palace could be put to use.
Someone calling his name interrupted his thoughts. When he glanced back, Captain Sterling was striding toward him. The platform trembled under his heavy footsteps and his deep voice rumbled.
“If you please, a moment of your time Grand Pookah,” he called.
Electrum took his hat off and shook it over the side. If only it was that easy to shake off the captain. It would be a relief to retire and be out of the palace away from Sterling’s narrow mindedness.
He replaced his hat and turned to meet the captain. “A moment is all I have, sir,” he said.
“I met with the King earlier regarding the prince’s military training,” Sterling said. “He’s missed several of the morning drills of late. Perhaps you could shed some light on his activities.”
Probably in the library, Electrum thought. He tried to look surprised. “I was not aware he was not meeting his obligations. Perhaps his book lessons have been taking up too much of his time.”
“Book learning is commendable, though the virtues of commerce are vastly overstated in your textbooks. A good understanding of palace politics would be more useful. The King mentioned his concern over the tales circulating about the prince and that merchant girl. You know how those kind of things can get out of hand.”
Electrum bristled, but managed to hold his tongue. “I’ll speak to the prince about being on time for your lessons, but I should set him a good example and not be late myself. It was good talking with you.” He hurried away as fast as decorum would allow.
He knew Silverthorn was spending mornings in the library, but he hadn’t realized he was skipping Sterling’s classes. It was a dangerous game.
He stopped at the prince’s room. The hammock was rumpled and the glowstone was still uncovered. Niches in the wall were filled with items from his childhood. The spot where Gilder had placed the box was empty.
Electrum ran his finger over the bark. Gold sparkles clung to his finger. The box had either come from the Gold Realm or recently been there. It was time to discover what the prince found so fascinating in the old documents.
Electrum passed sleepy servants. They grumbled at his haste and gave him questioning looks as he hurried past. Voices came from the library. He stepped into the dim interior.
Simon stood at the back. Reaching up with long arms, he stacked a pile of scrolls on a branch. His long hair was neatly tied back with a silver string and hung down his muscular back. There was no sign of age on his smooth face this morning.
He turned and raised his eyebrows. “It’s a little early, but all times are good for reading. Can I help you locate a fascinating exposition from a long forgotten scroll?”
“Silverthorn has been infected with your passion for ancient lore. I assumed he would be here feeding his addiction. Have you seen him?”
Simon glanced to the other side of the platform. “Perhaps my son can help. Gilder? Our Grand Pookah has misplaced the Prince. Might you be able to assist him?”
Gilder’s feet got tangled in the table leg as he jumped to his feet. “He left the palace when it was still dark this morning.”
Electrum winced. He already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Where did he go?”
Gilder glanced at his father, then down at his feet. “To the Tween World clearing,” he said. His voice was just above a whisper, “To meet Amber.”
When Electrum reached the top branches, the first signs of dawn were tinting the sky. Morning vapors clung to the branches. He didn’t relish the idea of flying in the cool, damp air without the benefit of a good breakfast. “The boy’s head must be filled with dandelion fluff,” he muttered.
With resignation he opened his wings and stepped off the platform. Wind tugged at his hat, and he flatted his ears against the brim. Behind him streamed a thin trail of shimmering dust. Fortunately most of the kingdom was still in bed. Still, it wouldn’t do spread concern about the prince. With difficulty he turned his thoughts to flying instead of on Silverthorn.
Unlike the palace, the docks were bustling with activity. Clumps of fog and dim shadows gathered in the low-lying areas. Pookahs paced on ship decks and bellowed orders at the pollywogs.
The ships looked inviting. As a tad he had dreamed of being a ship captain. A pleasant current to carry the ship in the morning and cool breezes for sailing at night. That would be the life. His only worry would have been losing some cargo or maybe a ship. But instead of cloaking ability, he had the gift of thought dust. That fated him to become the Grand Pookah, and now he’d lost the prince.
There was no time for drifting leisurely out of the harbor on a ship. The sun was creeping above the horizon.
A Sprinkling of Thought Dust Page 14
