Questions Disparate

“I have two things on my mind,” Jerdine declared authoritatively. Her voice carried through the thin walls of the residence, unknowingly making my job easier. I ghosted over the worn wood tracking her by sound.

“First,” she continued after a long of a pause, “why did the artist pick such a ridiculous expression for such a dearly, beloved monarch?” The mixture of exasperation and mirth said Jerdine referred to King Jupus’s portrait.

Excellent, she had to be across the chamber then. I hadn’t spent the better part of the year skulking through the palace walls not to have examined all the portraits. Jupus’s came back to me vividly.

I leaned against the nearest wall, my way into the gallery, and doubled over trying to constrain my laughter. Whatever old Jupus had done, he’d invoked the ire of the artists’ guild to end up with a portrait of that inferior quality.

I snorted. Even I could have done better.

“And second…” Jerdine said.

The wall disappeared from beneath my hand. Thrown off balance, I tumbled from the dark passage into the lit gallery. Laying flat on my back, I stared up into the shocked faces of the guards.

Shocked, except for Jerdine. She just glowered at me.

“Second?” I asked, my voice wheezing.

“What do you think you’re doing sneaking through the walls, Envoy Nashira? Again?” She tapped her foot.

“Umm,” I said inelegantly. “Looking for the boat.”

“Try bed instead,” she growled and pointed. “Much more practical.”