Free Shadows of Golstar by Terrence Scott Page B

particularly enjoyed, but one she dutifully performed, as had the
Keepers before her.
    As she reflected on her many responsibilities, her
thoughts turned to the plan on which her father and Uncle Tal were now working.
She believed her father was right in his conclusions. His plan seemed to be the
only means to save their race and Way of life, but she was uneasy about the
part she would be required to play. She was told that she had a key
responsibility for the plan’s success and worried she wouldn’t live up to her
father’s expectations.
    Thoughts such as these were unwelcome as they
distracted her from her more mundane duties. She took a deliberate, deep
calming breath, trying to set aside these off-putting thoughts. Until she knew
exactly what was to be expected of her, worrying about it was fruitless. She
redirected her mind to the immediate task at hand and made to exit her
apartment.
    The trip to her father’s receiving chambers would not
take long. Opening the gilded door of her palace suite, she entered into a
wide, extended hallway. As she walked towards its end, she couldn’t help but
glance up at the pictures filling the tall, wood-paneled walls lining the
hallway. The portraits were of members of the royal families dating back to the
Founding. As she progressed down the hallway, her pace began to slow. To the
left, near the end of the hallway and just before the two tall doors that
opened into the Hall of Greeting, a large portrait of a woman holding a baby
was hung.    
    She stopped before it and gazed at the beautifully
rendered image. The woman in the portrait was dressed in formal robes of state.
The court artist captured the gentle smile, the mischievous twinkle in
sea-green eyes and shining cascades of auburn hair - her mother.   The baby in the portrait was Sharné at less
than a birth year old.  
    Her mother had died nine years later. An accident, a
senseless accident had taken her mother away. They had been close. The loss of
her mother had been devastating to young Sharné and it had taken more than a
year for her to recover sufficiently to resume her place in palace life and
attend once more to her schooling.
    Since then, she often came to the hallway to look at
the portrait and recollect those wonderful first years of her life when she and
her mother were together. The sight of this picture never ceased to move her
and somehow provide a small sense of comfort. It did so now. 
    After a moment, her thoughts drifted to her father. He
had tried to bring her up on his own, but with his lofty position came great
responsibility. He spent as much time with her as he was able, though often she
found herself in the company of a governess for days on end. Fondly, she
remembered, when he was absent, he would send her regular messages telling her
about his day and assuring her she was always in his thoughts.  
    In the beginning, when she was too young to read some
of the more difficult words but old enough to understand them, her governess
would read his notes to her. After she grew older and could read for herself,
she would look forward to each day when a messenger would arrive bearing a new
message from her father.  
    He also frequently sent her presents to help make up
for his absences. And although they were quite nice and often extravagant, his
messages were what she treasured the most. She had saved every note and still,
on occasion, would reread some of them with fond recollection.
    When he was able to spend time with her, her father
gave her all of his attention. Their time together, though often limited, was
precious to her nonetheless. She sighed. Truly, she had nothing to regret, yet
when she viewed her mother’s picture, she still felt a small ache of longing
for what might have been, what might have been had her mother lived.
    She looked at the beautiful woman in the portrait. And
then, as she often did, Sharné reached out and reverently touched the bottom of
the gilded picture frame,