Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 76
He hung back as May trotted up the steps; she took his arm and
pulled him gently but inexorably after her.
He held his breath as she reached out to the door handle
and turned it. She pushed the door open, letting a fan of golden
light out into the blue-grey afternoon. "Come," she said, and
stepped in.
He hesitated. Nothing happened; there was no sound
from within. Reluctantly, he put his head around the doorjamb.
"I'm soaked!" Lady May yanked the water-gemmed
sheet off and tossed it down. "Look at this." Her legs and
backside were covered in mud.
Jordan stared past her uneasily. It was warm here, and
dry. Light came from a great crystalline chandelier overhead.
That meant there must be servants to tend the lights. They
were bound to show up at any moment.
"Close the door please, Jordan." He eased in, closed the
portal but kept his back to it.
This place was bigger than Castor's mansion. They stood
in a bow fronted vestibule at least two stories tall. Two wide
marble staircases curved up to either side. Ahead was an arch
leading to darkness. There were tall wooden doors at the foot
of both staircases. Everything looked clean and straight, but
the style was ancient, as if he'd stepped into one of the etchings
in his father's book of architectural mannerism.
He looked up past the chandelier. Gold arabesques over
the windows. The ceiling was painted with some torrid
mythological scene, framed at the edges by ornate gold
guilloches.
Lady May followed his gaze. "Derivative," she said.
"Venus restraining Mars."
Jordan had heard of neither of them. He looked down.
They were both dripping on the polished marble floor.