The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

cultured, if a bit gravelly.
    Dranko stepped into the light spilling from inside the Greenhouse. “Dranko Blackhope,” he said affably. “Who are you, and why are you in our house?”
    “You may call me Eddings,” said the butler. “Master Blackhope, I am pleased to welcome you to your new home. I will allow your friends to enter once they have named themselves.”
    Sighing at this pointless rigmarole, Morningstar made her introduction next. The rest followed her lead and were allowed to cross the threshold.
    The modest foyer was cheerfully decorated with potted plants and paintings of fruit. Two opposing staircases with carved wooden railings spiraled to the upper story of the house, while a wide archway opened into a spacious living room complete with couches, a fireplace, low tables, and empty bookshelves lining one wall.
    On the left-hand wall of the living room was a black-painted door, the only thing in sight that would have looked at home in her Ellish Temple. But she had not eaten in hours, and a second door opened onto a dining room already set out with goblets of wine and plates of roasted chicken, the smell wafting out to greet her and setting her mouth to watering.
    “You may leave your weapons in the foyer,” said Eddings. “Dinner awaits your pleasure in the dining room.”
    “Does this count?” Mrs. Horn produced her cleaver from the waistband of her skirt.
    Eddings was unfazed. “If you would prefer, I can clean that off in the kitchen.”
    “That’s very nice of you.”
    The interior of the house was much too bright; lanterns on the walls filled every room with a peculiarly even glow. It could hardly have been more starkly contrasted with the austere, unlit halls of her temple. Morningstar unbelted her weapon and set it against a wall inside the door, shielded her eyes with one hand to ward away the glare, and joined the others in the dining room. In addition to the chicken and wine there was a huge bowl of yellowbeans, cooked to an almost unnatural perfection.
    A chandelier hung directly above the center of the round dining room table, with magic lights in place of candles. Morningstar kept her hood drawn close and her eyes squinted. She didn’t speak much as she ate, preferring for the moment to observe and listen to the others.
    Dranko was unrestrained in his assault on both the food and the alcohol; he ate like someone for whom lavish meals were a luxury, and drank like a man for whom wine was a regular habit. Tor had laid his napkin carefully on his lap and held his wine glass with a practiced hand, but though his table manners were exquisite, the rate and quantity of his intake were alarming. Young Ernest seemed embarrassed at having a butler hovering nearby, and stole worried glances at Eddings between each mouthful.
    “Mr. Eddings,” he asked, “have you been a butler for a long time?”
    “Yes, Master Roundhill.”
    “Oh, you can call me Ernie.”
    “As you wish.”
    Ernie reddened and looked back at his plate.
    Dranko belched. “So, Eddings, how did you get this job working at the Greenhouse? Seems pretty cushy.”
    “Master Blackhope, I was hired some months ago by our mutual employer, Master Abernathy. Though the circumstances of this arrangement are most unusual, the compensation is more than adequate. Also our employer suggested that I might find your company most entertaining.”
    “Really? He said that about us?”
    “He did, Master Blackhope.”
    Dranko smoothed his shirt and sat up a bit straighter; he obviously enjoyed being addressed as “Master Blackhope” by a servant.
    “Abernathy didn’t say he had hired us a butler,” said Morningstar. “He said very little, all things considered. Did you also do the cooking?”
    “No, Lady Morningstar.”
    “Just Morningstar will be fine. Do we have a cook as well? Because this is quite delicious.”
    “No, I regret to say that we do not. Your food has come from Mr. Abernathy’s extraordinary Icebox, a magical