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comfortable glow. A plain wooden crucifix hung on one wall, with a garland of fresh flowers beneath it.
There was a row of simple wooden seats, but no other furniture or fittings.
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'What is this place?' said Jordan softly.
'This is a Sanctuary, your highness,' said Roderik, in a voice that was at once both polite and a subtle
warning.
'Of course,' said Jordan. 'A Sanctuary.'
He nodded to DeGrange to carry on, and they left the chamber behind them. The moment they passed
through the doorway, the feeling of peace and restfulness was gone. Jordan said nothing, but decided
he'd have quite a few questions to put to Roderik once they were safely out of the public eye. He didn't
dare ask anything in front of the guards; Viktor would have known what a Sanctuary was.
?
Finally, long after Jordan had lost all track of where he was in the Castle, they came to a large, ornately
carved and decorated door. DeGrange opened it, and then stepped back and gestured for Jordan to
enter first. He did so, trying to put across with his upraised nose that he'd never expected anything else.
The room before him was wonderfully spacious and luxur-iously appointed. Thick carpets covered the
floor, and brightly coloured tapestries livened up the gleaming white walls. More than a dozen doors led
off into adjoining rooms. Elegant and expensive furniture stood casually about, drawing attention to itself,
though it seemed to have been assembled with little feeling or taste. Some of the pieces clashed so
ostentatiously in style and period that Jordan felt like wincing. Having briefly been a nouveau riche during
his more successful days, Jordan was a terrible snob where taste was concerned. He waited impatiently
while the two guards busied themselves lighting candles under DeGrange's direction, and the moment
they were finished he gestured for them to leave with a quick jerk of his head. They did so, after bowing
politely, and Jordan was finally left alone with Count Roderik and Brion DeGrange.
The moment the door had shut behind the two guards, Roderik sank limply into the nearest chair and
fanned himself with his hand.
'So far, so good. What do you think of your quarters, your highness?'
'Very nice,' said Jordan. 'Very . . . opulent.'
'Yes,' said Roderik, smiling. 'Viktor's never been known for his taste. And if you think this is bad, wait
till you see the bedroom. Brion, dear fellow, allow me to introduce to you the Great Jordan.'
Jordan grinned at DeGrange, and stuck out his hand. DeGrange put his hands on his hips and studied
Jordan coolly. 'You made a good choice, Roderik. The likeness is exact, even down to his voice and the
way he walks. He'll have to work on the arrogance, of course, but that should come easily enough to an
actor. Does he understand what his job here entails?'
'Yes. He's been thoroughly briefed.'
'I've no doubt he's word-perfect on Viktor's background, but does he understand what we all stand to
lose if he fouls up?'
'I'm sure he does, Brion.'
'I wouldn't bet on it. I know his sort. He may style himself the Great Jordan, but deep down he's just like
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any other actor: idle, shiftless and unreliable.'
'If you don't stop talking about him as if he wasn't here,' said Jordan calmly, 'he is going to punch you
right in the throat.'
DeGrange looked at him. 'You forget your place, actor,' he said softly. 'You're a hired man, nothing
more. We own you, body and soul. Out there in public I may have to bow and scrape to you, but here in
private you'll call me sir, and like it. Because if you don't, I'm going to hurt you. I know a lot about hurting
people. I'm very good at it. Now get down on your knees where you belong, actor, and call me sir.'
'Blow it out your ear,' said Jordan.
DeGrange's hand dropped to the sword at his side. Jordan stepped forward and kicked him smartly,
just below the knee. DeGrange grunted in surprise at the sudden blinding pain, and fell awkwardly to the
floor as his leg collapsed under him. Jordan palmed one of his flare pellets and crushed it in his hand.
Bluewhite flames leapt up around his clenched fist with-out consuming it. Jordan leaned forward and
stretched out his blazing hand towards DeGrange. The Security man froze where he was. Beads of sweat
formed on his face as Jordan stopped his hand only inches away from DeGrange's face.
'You will treat me with respect at all times,' said Jordan quietly, 'both in public and in private. I can't
afford to have you give the game away by reacting wrongly to me at any point. You're not a good enough
actor to cover it up. Now get up, and address me properly.'
He didn't threaten the man; he didn't have to. He stepped back a few paces, and blew out the flames on
his hand. His skin was tingling faintly, but as always he'd taken no harm from the heat. The protection
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