Roland's Castle Read Online Free PDF Page B

a
kindred spirit.
    “Oh yes indeed!” said Bril-a-Brag.
“We’ve had simply hours of fun with our Mark IV. Before that we had
a Stretchmaster, but I think it lacks the finesse of the
Superstretch, don’t you?”
    “Oh absolutely! Yes!” agreed
Dagarth, “With fine control you can stretch out a good stretch to
last much longer – and stretch them much taller all at the same
time! We’ll be turning dwarves into giants yet – slowly but
surely!”
    “They should make that their
slogan!” Bril-a-Brag said, and they both laughed.
    Then Dagarth tested Bril-a-Brag.
“Thumbscrews: iron or wood?”
    “Oh, wood! Always!” Bril-a-Brag
said. “The iron ones twist and bend and give up just when you get
to the good bit!”
    “Yes!” cried Dagarth,
“Exactly!”
    “Have you seen the latest range
from Horrids?” Bril-a-Brag asked, and he pulled a well thumbed
catalogue from his pocket and pointed to a page. “The blocks are
oak and beautifully polished with walnut screws for that extra
resilience. See how exquisitely the polish brings out the contrast
of the woods?”
    “Wonderful!” Dagarth exclaimed. “We
really must sit down and have a good old natter about all of this!
Meanwhile, welcome to our castle! I would like to say ‘our torture
chamber is your torture chamber,’ but sadly we don’t have one just
at the moment….”
    “Ah! The plumbing!”
    “Precisely! Anyway, come in and
have a drink – why not a banquet! And of course, bring your
seneschal!”
    “Bless you!” Said Gloatenglorp, and
again saluted, clicked his heels and did a little dance, followed
by a bow.
    Uncle Dagarth put his arm around
Bril-a-Brag as if he were an old friend and guided him into what
was left of the castle keep. Auntie, the twins and Gloatenglorp
followed on behind. Only Roland was left in the courtyard – and the
girl. They looked at each other, then Roland went up and spoke to
her. “Thank you for not giving us away last night.”
    “That’s alright,” she said. “I hate
them.”
    “Anyone who can get on with my
uncle so quickly must be a bit dodgy…,” Roland agreed.
    “I am supposed to be Brill-a-Brag’s
ward, but he treats me like a slave.”
    “I’m not exactly on top around
here,” Roland said, then thought to introduce himself. “My name is
Roland.”
    “I’m Savitri.”
    “Nice name.”
    “It is Indian, where my family came
from, originally. But they were killed in the war.”
    “My mother is dead. My father gone
on some quest or other. Would you like to come in?”
    “I’d rather stay outside and keep
away from them for a bit.”
    “You can come to my room. It’s in a
different building – that one by all the torture gear.”
    Savitri’s upper lip curled in
disgust at the sight of Dagarth’s collection.
    “Its not so grim inside – don’t
worry!” he reassured her.
    Savitri followed him up the stairs
to his room where she sat in a chair. Roland tried to think of
something sensible to say but as he struggled with that she began
to cry. “I’m so miserable,” she said, “I am fed up with being
trailed around the place whilst they look for adventures and
treasure…”
    “Well, I’m sure it can’t be all
that bad…” Roland said, trying to comfort her, knowing at once it
was a stupid thing to say. He couldn’t think of anything but
stupid things to say. He wanted to be kind but could only think of
ways to make a fool of himself. Why does that always happen? He
thought. Then he had an idea. Perhaps a display of swordplay would
make her feel better? A bit of harmless excitement never hurt
anyone, surely? He asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “I trust you because you didn’t
give us away last night,” Roland said. He pulled back the tapestry
and opened the door that led to the practice room. He went inside
and beckoned for her to follow. She did so.
    The moment she entered she gasped,
her eyes fixed on the Companion. She was plainly terrified of