Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 439
that the lovely pink marble floor of the banquet hall was almost
invisible under a maze of stacked provisions.
She listened as he went on to describe the gardens, which
remained untouched, and the little cobbled streets that crowded
against the foot of the keep. She seemed grateful for the
distraction. And as he painted in words a picture of the palace
in better times, Armiger sat like some gargoyle atop the highest
parapet of the keep, and wondered what was to come in the
next days.
Megan touched his elbow. Armiger awoke from a deep
reverie; it was near sunset. For hours now he had been lost in
transcendent thought.
"What’s the matter?" she asked. He examined her in the
fading light. Megan’s face was thinner than when he had met
her, but she also looked younger, somehow. He found himself
smiling.
"I’m sorry I brought you here," he said.
"Why?" He could see she was trying not to interpret
what he’d said the wrong way.
"The assault will begin soon. It has to. I can see Lavin’s
running out of supplies--the number of wagons arriving every
day has dropped off sharply. I think Parliament is choking off
his budget now that it thinks it’s won."
"Are we going to die?" She asked it like she might ask
any reasonable question.
"I can protect us against the soldiers. But the Winds are
still searching for me, and the attack is bound to draw their
attention. If they don’t intervene directly, they might still see
me. Then, yes, we may be lost."
She held out her hand, and he took it as he stepped down
off the crenel. "Then let’s leave," she said. "Surely we can