Castle Murders
Page 24
“Thanks, m’lad.” Thaxton looked at the seal. “The king’s signet. Well, I wonder what —”
Everyone crowded around as Thaxton read the note.
Dalton drummed the table with his fingers. “Well? For pity’s sake, Thaxton.”
Thaxton said, “Seems I’m bein’ elevated to the peerage.”
“Really!”
“That’s wonderful,” Linda said, pecking his cheek.
“Congratulations,” Gene said. “What rank?”
“Lord.”
“Is that high?”
“Oh, I don’t really know. It’s not a rank in itself, I don’t think. It’s a rather general title. It comes with no estate, so it’s nothin’ more than an honorific.”
“You mean I’ll have to call you ‘Lord Thaxton’ from now on?” Dalton said.
“Well, as there’s no hereditary title or estate, the usual custom is to use the given name.”
“You know,” Dalton said, “this is extremely odd, but I don’t know your given name. If you’ve told me, I’ve forgotten.”
“It’s Peter.”
“So your title would be ‘Lord Peter’?”
“That’s right, old man. But don’t feel obligated to use it. I’m not one for puttin’ on airs.”
Dalton eyed him at an angle. “Any reason why you’re suddenly dropping your g’s?”
“Am I?”
Dalton moved his knight. “Check. And, I believe, mate.”
Thaxton surveyed the board. “So it is. Good game, old man.”
“Really. Now, usually you get good and mad.”
“Do I? Sorry. Well, I need a bit of air.”
Out on the balcony, Thaxton breathed deeply. The air was cool, fresh, unpolluted. It was a balmy spring night. The moon — bigger and with different markings than Earth’s — hung like a beneficent smiling face in the sky. The castle was spread out below, vast and mysterious in the moonglow.
Leaning against the balustrade, Thaxton laughed into the night.
“Bloody marvelous.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Administrative Offices
In the streets below, traffic was approaching gridlock. It was a typical day in the big city. Strangely enough, in all the days since he’d moved into this office, he’d never bothered to find out what city it was, though it had always seemed to him that it looked a lot like …
The intercom buzzed.
“Yeah?”
“Call on line one.”
“Who?”
“A man who says he’s the Land Surveyor?”
“Rats. Okay, I’ll take it.”
He picked up the phone.
“Hello? … Yeah, this is the castle … yeah … uh-huh … uh-huh … no. No, I’m sorry. Look … yeah … yeah … Look, Franz, can you? … Yeah … yeah … yeah … Hold it a minute … Wait, let me give you some advice.”
He glanced down at the hopelessly clogged traffic, then leaned back in the swivel chair.
“Franz? Get a life.”
About the Author
John DeChancie is a popular author of numerous science fiction/fantasy novels including the hugely entertaining CASTLE series and STARRIGGER trilogy. He lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.