Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 516
your highness. To call them back would be..."
They were bringing in ladders to lean up against the tall
windows. She was just in the way now. Galas stepped back to
let a procession of men past, then flipped the hem of her dress
up over the pooling oil, and stalked back into the tower.
It was even worse in here--pandemonium as blacksmiths,
carpenters, and anybody with nothing better to do tore up the
use for them; no one questioned the sanity of the move. Only
half the first floor was wood anyway; the front reception area
had a floor of marble. She hurried, hopping up the wooden
behind her.
"Can I help?" she asked one of the sappers, who was
straining with a crowbar against the ancient wood.
He lost his grip and stumbled. "Your--your highness?"
He went down on one knee, inadvertently stabbing his shin on
an upthrust nail. He ignored the injury, and awaited her orders.
She reached out. "Please--I want to help. Tell me what
to do."
He jerked back in horror. "Your highness, no! This is
"I see." She made her face into the royal mask again.
With a curt nod, she left the man to his work, ascending to the
She came out on the first landing above the main
entrance. This part of the Summer Palace had been held sacred
by the defenders until last night. It had remained as she
remembered it from infancy, the paintings, chandeliers,
statuary all in place, the servants ready in their niches. Now