The Continent (The Continent #1)(76)
“Far more than a simple groundskeeper,” I say, and he smiles. “But I take your point. I shall say all that must be said when I meet with the Heads of State—I only hope they will listen as you have done.”
CHAPTER 27
THE SCENT OF URBAN LIFE ACCOSTS ME AS I STEP once more onto Spirian soil: fuel, cleaning products, asphalt wet with recent rain—things almost forgotten, but suddenly and intrusively familiar. As I look around the hangar where once I departed for the Continent with my family, I can feel grief pulling at me; my heart beats as though it is on the precipice of breaking once again. Mr. Cloud has informed me that arrangements were made so that I might spend the night in my former home. The house has been silent and empty all these months, the estate having been held in trust by the Chancellery and not yet sold. Hasty preparations were made this morning to clean the property and employ a full complement of servants before my arrival, but I wish the house were empty; I know it will be grievously difficult to face the memories within, and I am loath to be surrounded by strangers. A while longer, I tell myself. Just hold on a while longer.
There is no one waiting to greet us; the Chancellor and the Heads of State are en route from the West, but will not arrive until tomorrow. It is just as well; I am not quite prepared to meet with them, and it has been a long, exhausting day.
After my episode of panic aboard the heli-plane, Mr. Cloud seems unwilling to leave my side. He accompanies me on the drive to the estate, chattering mildly and relating various articles of recent news. As the car winds its way along familiar streets, his voice grows distant; I watch through the window, pieces and places of my former life flickering past like fragments of a dream that has been suddenly remembered. We pass by my former school, as well as the grand, sprawling mansion of Otto Sussenfaal—the cartographer who was to be my mentor. And when we finally inch through the gates and pull into the long drive leading up to my parents’ home, it is all I can do to keep my tears at bay.
The car slows to a stop and a footman opens the door, extending a hand to assist me. How strange this formality seems after so many months on the Continent—how unnecessary the proffered help for a task so trivial. Certainly I can step out of the car by myself. Yet I reach for his hand automatically, exiting the vehicle with practiced grace. Perhaps there is something left of the Spire within me after all.
“No luggage, miss?” the footman calls, casting a surreptitious glance at my clothing, and at the single black satchel slung over my back. I suspect he has never seen anything quite like the garb and accoutrements of the Aven’ei.
“None at all,” I say. “Thank you kindly.”
Mr. Cloud, standing beside me on the cobbled drive, stares up at the house with a deep crease between his brows. “Are you quite sure you want to stay here tonight, Miss Sun? It certainly wasn’t my idea, I only told them to make arrangements for you to—”
“It’s fine, Mr. Cloud. I have many happy memories of this home.” And each is breaking my heart.
“Well. I’ve given the staff my number—I’m stopping at the hotel down by the Chancellery—the great tall one with all the windows—and I will be happy to see you removed from the house if you find it too…well, too painful to stay the night. I have been appointed to manage your transportation to and from the city—so let me know if you need anything at all. It is my pleasure, of course. The Chancellery would prefer you to travel by car, and stay off the trains. A driver will come round at eight o’clock sharp to collect you in the morning.”
“Very well. And will you wish me luck with the officials?”
He gives me a wry grin. “Politicians don’t believe in luck.”
I laugh, though the sound is brittle. “Nor do I, now I come to think of it.”
“Good,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “May I offer a bit of advice?”
“I welcome anything you have to say, Mr. Cloud, at any time.”
“Don’t let the folks in the Chancellery see you fixed up like this,” he says, indicating my attire. “You want them to see you as an equal. If you stroll in dressed like an Aven’ei, those black-robed swells will think you no more than a savage.”
“They might be right.”
He snorts. “If you’re a savage, I wonder what the rest of us may be?”
“Noble citizens, all,” I say, smiling. “As to the clothing—I think you’ve made an incisive point. I shall wear my Spirian finest, for I can’t have the officials looking down their noses at me. Thank you, sir. Once again, you have done me a great service.”
He returns my smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling up into a criss-cross of fine lines. “Whether it be worthwhile or not, I say good luck to you, Miss Sun. The sentiment, at least, has merit. Wouldn’t you say?”
“It does indeed, and I thank you.”
He nods. “Tell it true, and they will listen. Good luck.”
I close the front door behind me as I step inside the house. My eyes sweep over the entrance hall, so familiar and strange all at once. Everything appears exactly as it did on the day we left for the Continent. The lights are lit. The exquisite crimson rug that my mother purchased in the North stretches out along the marble floor of the foyer, not a stray piece of lint or speck of dust to be seen upon it. My father’s precious ornamental vases are gleaming and immaculate upon the entry console. My map of the Continent hangs above the fireplace in the sitting room beyond.