Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

light enough, despite the lamps and torches set in every conceivable niche.
    Echoes lingered on that fraction too long, and shadows caught at the corner of his eye with hints of unnatural shapes. He tried to tell himself it was all in his imagination, but he couldn't make himself believe it. He glanced surreptitiously at DeGrange, Roderik and the guards to see if they shared his mood, but they seemed unaffected. Presumably they were used to it. And then they came to a simple stone chamber, and the oppressive atmosphere was suddenly gone.
    Jordan stopped dead in his tracks, and the others stopped with him. Jordan sighed, and stood up a little straighter. He stretched, and flexed his muscles. He hadn't realised what a weight he was carrying until it was gone. He felt calm and relaxed, and at peace with himself and the world. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, and he stood there breathing deeply for a while, savouring it. He looked about him curiously, studying the chamber. The walls were the same black stone as everywhere else, but here the colour was flat and lifeless. Two torches burned in iron wallbrackets, and their light filled the chamber with a warm, comfortable glow. A plain wooden crucifix hung on one wall, with a garland of fresh flowers beneath it.
    There was a row of simple wooden seats, but no other furniture or fittings.
    'What is this place?' said Jordan softly.
    'This is a Sanctuary, your highness,' said Roderik, in a voice that was at once both polite and a subtle warning.
    'Of course,' said Jordan. 'A Sanctuary.'
    He nodded to DeGrange to carry on, and they left the chamber behind them. The moment they passed through the doorway, the feeling of peace and restfulness was gone. Jordan said nothing, but decided he'd have quite a few questions to put to Roderik once they were safely out of the public eye. He didn't dare ask anything in front of the guards; Viktor would have known what a Sanctuary was.
    ?
    Finally, long after Jordan had lost all track of where he was in the Castle, they came to a large, ornately carved and decorated door. DeGrange opened it, and then stepped back and gestured for Jordan to enter first. He did so, trying to put across with his upraised nose that he'd never expected anything else.
    The room before him was wonderfully spacious and luxuriously appointed. Thick carpets covered the floor, and brightly coloured tapestries livened up the gleaming white walls. More than a dozen doors led off into adjoining rooms. Elegant and expensive furniture stood casually about, drawing attention to itself, though it seemed to have been assembled with little feeling or taste. Some of the pieces clashed so ostentatiously in style and period that Jordan felt like wincing. Having briefly been a nouveau riche during his more successful days, Jordan was a terrible snob where taste was concerned. He waited impatiently while the two guards busied themselves lighting candles under DeGrange's direction, and the moment they were finished he gestured for them to leave with a quick jerk of his head. They did so, after bowing politely, and Jordan was finally left alone with Count Roderik and Brion DeGrange.
    The moment the door had shut behind the two guards, Roderik sank limply into the nearest chair and fanned himself with his hand.
    'So far, so good. What do you think of your quarters, your highness?'
    'Very nice,' said Jordan. 'Very . . . opulent.'
    'Yes,' said Roderik, smiling. 'Viktor's never been known for his taste. And if you think this is bad, wait till you see the bedroom. Brion, dear fellow, allow me to introduce to you the Great Jordan.'
    Jordan grinned at DeGrange, and stuck out his hand. DeGrange put his hands on his hips and studied Jordan coolly. 'You made a good choice, Roderik. The likeness is exact, even down to his voice and the way he walks. He'll have to work on the arrogance, of course, but that should come easily enough to an actor. Does he understand what his job here entails?'
    'Yes. He's been thoroughly briefed.'
    'I've no doubt he's word-perfect on Viktor's background, but does he understand what we all stand to lose if he fouls up?'
    'I'm sure he does, Brion.'
    'I wouldn't bet on it. I know his sort. He may style himself the Great Jordan, but deep down he's just like
    any other actor: idle, shiftless and unreliable.'
    'If you don't stop talking about him as if he wasn't here,' said Jordan calmly, 'he is going to punch you right in the throat.'
    DeGrange looked at him. 'You