A Way of Honor (Champions of the Crystal Book 2)

Chapter 4.1

She asked for an escort back to her rooms. Navigating Palace Royal would take years to master, she guessed gloomily—years she wouldn't have. The guard assigned to her didn't seem disposed to chat, and she didn't blame him. Word must have spread by now that she was in deep disgrace. She wondered how long they would tolerate her presence here without Mara's sponsorship. And what, she thought in dismay, would happen to Tirqwin if she had to leave?

She tried to picture Tirqwin and Malvarak's conversation. Tirqwin would be doing his best to dissuade Malvarak from any precipitate action, such as notifying Homeworld; he would be asking his kinsman to look after Mara; and he would probably throw in a word about Malvarak's treatment of herself. Yeah, I can hear it now: "Go a little easier on Miss Devon, would you, there's a good chap; she may be incompetent, but she means well." Then she realized that, when she was upset with Tirqwin, his voice in her mind always somehow resembled that of a particularly despised schoolmaster she'd had back in England, and she had to smile. No, Tirqwin was better than that any day.

When she reached her apartment, she washed her face, redid her hair, and had a quick snack. Then she sat down to ponder her next move. Scotty was probably out of reach; at any rate, he would get in touch with her the minute he heard of her dismissal. She could do as Tirqwin suggested and call Haaron and Éllina, but running off to cry on their shoulders seemed a weak thing for the Guardian's ex-attendant to do.

"Well," she sighed to herself, "the next logical step, of course, is to call Therenden and hope to God he wasn't just being polite."

It took her some time to find Therenden's comm code in her directory, and she'd grown nervous by the time she was connected to his terminal. A rather severe assistant rattled her even further, and for a moment she contemplated giving up the call altogether, but the memory of Malvarak sneering angrily at her brought her determination back. She would get some help, or at least advice, out of Therenden even if he'd heard of her disgrace and didn't want to acknowledge her.

But when his face came onscreen, he was smiling in his usual friendly, open way. "Miss Devon," he said. "I was meaning to call and see how you were settling in. Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes, actually. I need some advice. Can I come and talk to you?"

"Have you had lunch?"

"No."

"Excellent. We can talk over lunch. Can you find your way to the Ministry, or shall I come and get you?"

"Um—" Sabrina hesitated.

"I'll come and get you," he smiled. "Getting lost in Dansestari is not to be taken lightly. I shall be there as soon as I finish a few things here."

"Thank you," Sabrina said, then signed off. She wandered back into her bedroom and contemplated the dressing room, unhappily certain that her daywear was a little too plain for lunch with the Deputy Minister of Justice.

By the time Therenden arrived, she'd been through about half her wardrobe. Since she was no longer in Mara's service, she wasn't obligated to wear the unflattering purple any longer. She settled for a mid-formal black gown, honoring Baldaran in her own culture's mourning color, and threaded a black ribbon through her braided hair. She had some jet-black earrings that Mara had bought somewhere and then decided she didn't like—her careless, "Oh, Sabrina, I don't want these; you can have them," had let the Guardian in for a scathing lecture from Tirqwin on the importance of presentation in gift-giving. Sabrina smiled a little at the memory, wondering why she had never seen back then that Tirqwin took Mara's shortcomings far too personally for a mere tutor. Well, at any rate, she supposed it was proper for her to keep the earrings, though whether she should take them back to Earth with her was another problem altogether.