Aaron strained to look down the drive toward the portcullis. “Someone’s coming, I think,” he said. He could feel a tiny shred of excitement building up, and he didn’t try to stop it. How long had it been since he’d had any company at all? Besides grumpy old Eva Fathom, of course. “Call Liam.”
“Am I to join you for dinner?” Eva asked.
Aaron turned around to look at her. He stared for a moment. “I suppose. I hadn’t thought about you.”
Eva offered a thin smile. “Of course you hadn’t.” Whatever sarcasm was in her voice went undetected. “Please accompany yourself to the dining room in five minutes.”
Aaron nodded and turned back to the window. “Perhaps six minutes so I don’t appear too eager.”
“Oh, just make it ten, then.” Eva whisked down the hallway, shaking her head.
Liam and Eva arrived in the dining room just as former governor Strang was ushered in. He had cleaned up quite well—his hair was cut short, his mustache shaved, and his beard trimmed neatly. He wore fresh clothing, though his protruding belly threatened to burst the buttons on his jacket. He almost looked like a fine young man in his early twenties once more, rather than a middle-aged slob who had given up on life.
“Good evening, Secretary,” Strang said nervously as Eva and Liam entered. He held his hand out to Liam. “Hello. I’m Septimus Strang.”
“Of course, Governor,” Liam said. “Liam Healy, at your service.”
Strang laughed uneasily. “Former. Ah, governor . . . that is.” He pulled a wrinkled hankie from his pocket and wiped his forehead.
“As you wish. Well met, sir,” Liam said.
“Certainly.” Strang looked at Eva with a pained expression. “Is it just us tonight, then?”
“No, no. The high priest will be along presently. He’s had a very busy day and is running a bit behind. Help yourself.” Eva pointed to a table, where a tray with a pitcher of water and some glasses rested. “There may be one more guest as well. I’m not sure.”
Strang hurried over to the table, poured a glass of water with a shaky hand, and gulped it down. He poured a second glass and held on to it.
Liam looked around the room. The palace was a bit fancier than anything he’d seen in Quill before, but it was just as colorless and uninviting. After catching a glimpse of Artimé, everything here looked bland.
A moment later Aaron entered the room wearing one of Justine’s black robes. He looked to Eva.
Eva withheld the urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, and announced, “May I please present the High Priest Aaron? High Priest, I believe you are well acquainted with former Governor Strang and Liam Healy.”
Aaron held a limp hand out to the others as Justine had done when he’d first dined with her.
Strang hesitated, and then awkwardly bowed over Aaron’s hand without actually touching it. “May Quill prevail with all I have in me,” he said. He’d taught that very mantra to Aaron when the boy first went to university.
Liam frowned but followed Strang’s lead. “May Quill prevail . . . ,” he said, and left it at that.
There was a noise at the palace entry. Eva looked at Aaron and raised her eyebrow. Aaron lifted his chin and strained to hear. They didn’t have to wait long to discover that Gondoleery Rattrapp had arrived.
The guard at the door tried to accompany her, but the eccentric old woman pushed ahead and burst into the room, wearing a bright orange cape over her drab Quill clothing. Her hair stood on end, and her face was as red and blistery as it had been the day before—perhaps even more so. There were several fresh burn marks on her forearms and fingers.
“Hello,” she said. Aaron held his hand out so Gondoleery could give the proper greeting, but she breezed past and went over to the tray to pour herself some water. She dipped her burned fingers into the glass.
Aaron gaped and put his limp hand down. He hadn’t seen Gondoleery since before the Restorers attacked Artimé. She’d changed quite a bit from their days of plotting outside the palace gate.
“Good evening, Gondoleery,” Eva said. “What a shocking cape you’re wearing. Wherever did you find something so . . . colorful?”
“I used orange and red peppers from the Favored Farm as a dye,” she said. “They stained my fingers, so I figured they would stain cloth as well.”
Aaron frowned and glanced at Strang, who was appropriately frowning too. Aaron held his tongue, but he knew Justine would not approve of color like that in clothing. And neither would he.
Soon they were all seated around the table, and kitchen workers brought the food in and placed it before the guests. Aaron nodded at Secretary in approval—it was a fine-looking meal, for once.
Gondoleery attacked her food as if the chicken on her plate were still alive and running wild. Liam tried not to scarf his down, but he hadn’t been eating well at the Ancients Sector and it showed in his thin body—he was hungry.
Strang savored his food. “This is a lot better than when Justine was high priest,” he said to no one in particular, but then gave Aaron a fearful look. “I hope it’s all right for me to say that. I mean no disrespect to her. I think it must be so delicious because of your Favored Farm.”
“I’m always pleased to hear about how our people are enjoying the improvements in Quill,” Aaron said. The forks and knives resumed clicking and clanking. After a moment Aaron turned to Gondoleery. “How did you hurt your hands?”