Free The Keeper of the Mist by Rachel Neumeier Page B

wineglasses. He had cleared half a dozen glass sculptures out of the way to make room for his own effort, which took up the whole top of the admittedly small table. So far he had balanced fourteen of the delicate wineglasses in his pyramid. As Keri watched, he finished it off by delicately placing a fifteenth on the top. The top wineglass was Brann’s, still full of wine. She paused, fascinated despite herself, as Lucas eased his hand away from it. The pyramid trembled, the wine shimmered, and she found herself holding her breath. But the pyramid held.
    “Fool,” said Brann, and turned his back on his brother’s antics.
    Keri took a steadying breath, nodded to her oldest half brother, and said, she hoped somewhat as smoothly as he had, “I thank you for your welcome and your felicitations.”
    “And for his support and service, which of course he means to offer in the customary fashion,” said the Timekeeper dispassionately, without otherwise moving. He had been sitting so still that when he spoke, his voice was almost as surprising as if one of the glass figurines on the nearby table had suddenly declaimed a line of ancient poetry. Brann, whose back had been to the Timekeeper and who therefore had not been prepared for him to speak, twitched. The muscles of his face went tight for a moment. Then he smiled and offered Keri another bow, a little deeper than the first, and said, “Of course, sister. I am certain you will do well as Lady of Nimmira, but if there is any small assistance I am able to render, I would naturally be delighted.”
    He said this perfectly easily, but Keri was certain that Brann would be far from delighted to offer her any assistance whatsoever. She knew he was resentful and angry and probably bitter. She even thought he might be glad to see her fail, though that failure would entail tumbling prosperity for the whole of Nimmira.
    She wanted to say,
Maybe I’ll surprise you.
But what she actually said was, “Thank you so much, Brann. How kind you are.”
    Then she turned to Domeric.
    Her largest and most intimidating half brother straightened, twitched his sapphire coat straight, took a step toward her—she was a little surprised the floor did not creak and quiver under his weight—and gave her a short nod. He rumbled in a voice that sounded as though it came from the center of the earth, “Well, little sister, I suppose I must felicitate you as well.” He glowered at her, but this seemed his normal expression, and anyway, Keri thought she preferred Domeric’s honest glower to Brann’s smooth falsity.
    “You will do well enough, I am sure,” Domeric said, his voice coming down heavily on each word, like so many bricks striking the earth. “But if I may aid you, sister, you have only to call upon me.”
    Keri thought that any aid or support Domeric gave her, even if he meant this offer, would be given with a heavy glare and poor grace. But she also thought that if she had to call upon both Brann and Domeric, Domeric would be more likely to come to her aid. She said, “I shall depend upon it,” and let him make his bow. Her hand in his was like a child’s.
    Lucas, in contrast to his older half brothers, smiled, bowed over Keri’s hand, and said, “Lady, you have my support, and in the truly unlikely event you desire my service, it is yours to command! I’m sure it will be a delight to assist you in any way you request.”
    He was the first of her half brothers to use Keri’s proper title, and was that as sincere a recognition of her new position as it seemed, or was it actually a subtle dig at Brann and Domeric because they had not offered as much? Either way, Keri couldn’t help but smile back at Lucas, and when she thanked him, she did not have to try to sound warm. No wonder Tassel liked Lucas the best! He almost seemed actually nice.
    “So now we shall all be friends, I am sure,” Lucas concluded. “Certainly that is worth a toast or three!” His expansive gesture as he