Sky Woman: Book One of The Empress Saga

EPILOGUE

Garret propped his feet up on the desk. The chair was remarkably comfortable. The previous owner had had fine taste in furniture. After taking another bite of a crisp apple, Garret leaned his head back to take in the office.

This office was finely decorated for the master of a rural paperworks. It was a wonder that no one in Rosewater ever questioned how "Old Man Hamish" came by such riches. Merciful winds, but the room was even lit by gaslight. A veritable luxury this far from Althandor.

Garret missed the Spired City. Who ever would have guessed? When he arrived in Gaulatia six months ago, he imagined that his return to the City of Althandor would come all too soon. That was then. The old man was a cagey buzzard, and despite Garret's initial confidence, finding exactly which scrivener within Rosewood was the man they sought had proven a trying undertaking. Garret could hardly wait to take a stroll within the cool mists of the city with a fetching lass on his arm.

Garret's relief at a job completed was cathartic. He could finally relax and dream of what he'd do once he returned home. The Vantalan would have been able to forward his plotting considerably, and Garret looked forward to mucking up dear Arkus' ambitions if only to see the look on the imbecile's face.

Oh, and the opera! Garret's adoring fans must have been clamoring for his return to the stage. He wondered if dear Cloetta had completed her newest work. What he had seen before taking the train to Gaulatia had been simply marvelous. The opera house would be sold out for weeks once the production opened, especially if Garret's name was attached to it.

"I confess, dove," Garret said through a mouthful of apple, "As delectable as the local produce is, I'd hoped for something more substantial for dinner."

The unmistakable sound of a stack of papers being tossed into the air preceded lovely Elise's reply. "Enough jawin'," she snapped. "If you haven't noticed, the job's only half done."

Garret pulled the brim of his bowler hat over his eyes. The woman was much too high-strung. She should realize that the difficult part was over. The rest was mere details.

After one final bite, Garret tossed the apple core to the side. It was by pure chance that it landed on the chest of the lanky corpse by the door.

The old man had been a spry fellow. Who would have guessed someone with a mop of white hair like that could run so fast? Unfortunate for him, Elise had been certain of where he meant to hide. A simple pinprick later, and the world contained one less rogue arcanist to defy the magocracy.

"These rebels are becoming a problem," Garret observed. "This marks the fourth commission I've finished this year alone. What of you, dove?"

"Seven," she grunted. A cabinet shattered in the next room, followed by a string of curse words Garret wouldn't repeat in polite company.

"So many?" Garret let out a long, appreciative whistle. "Our dear monarch must value your services quite highly."

"Value?" Elise scoffed. "You have a tool, you use it. Don't mean you'd lose any sleep iffen it broke in the usin'."

She stormed into the office, her hands planted firmly on her hips. As always, her Aleesh coloring set Garret's passions aflame. Golden hair on brown skin was striking, and her green eyes only enhanced the effect. The lacings of Elice's bodice were half-undone, giving a tantalizing glimpse of her wares. A distraction, Garret assumed. Likely as not, the old man dropped his eyes for the brief moment it took for Elise to get her spike in him.

Despite himself, Garret shuddered. Elise's methods were ghastly. Effective, but ghastly. By the wide-eyed look of frozen terror on the old man's face, he would have agreed.