Tales of the Zodiac - The Goat's Tale by PJ Hetherhouse Read Free Book Online

represent your family’s bloodline, Your Majesty. They are there to show that your family were traders. So, no, they do not represent fairness. They represent profit and industry.” The words roll off my tongue as though they have been learnt by rote. This is, of course, because they have.
    “Bloody right. I’m here to do what’s right. Not what’s fair.” He pauses for effect, giving my knowledge no praise. “And what is right, boy?”
    “Whatever you say is right, Your Majesty.”
    “My, my. Maybe he is sharp after all. They told me you were sharp, boy.”
    “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Although my confidence is growing, I still try to keep my eyes down in the way that I’ve been taught.
    “That’s why we’ve got a quest for you,” he adds. His eyes harden. Finally he’s got to the point of the matter. He means to punish me in some more cunning way than pain.
    “It’s a dangerous quest, boy. But I’m sure someone of your calibre can handle it.” Delivered by someone who was less of a buffoon, this may have sounded disingenuous. The headmaster, who I had almost forgotten was in the room, squirms uncomfortably in his small chair near the door. Vesta sits impassive beside the throne.
    “Anyway, the crown has many crucial matters to attend to so I must insist you all leave. You,” gesturing to the headmaster, “I shall talk with you again tomorrow. Meanwhile, Vesta, if you would be so good as to continue the briefing in your own chambers. You know how I have no ear for detail.”
    I cast one last unrequited glance to the headmaster as he scurries out of the door. Vesta rises from her seat like a puff of steam.
    “Your Majesty.” She bows her acquiescence as she speaks but the gesture is so perfunctory as to be almost damning. She beckons me to a large door across the room to my right, opposite the smaller door through which the headmaster has left. I reach it first but step aside in order to allow her to open it. She returns the favour by allowing me to walk through before her.
    My mind immediately moves to Vesta and her intent. She could have been tasked to kill me. She certainly has the cold eyes for it. And the distant manner. If that were the case, I imagine I’d have little chance to escape.
    But there is more to Vesta than the simple scent of a killer. Something that I cannot put my finger on. It is a certain arrogance, almost bordering on contempt. Even in that large room, with the weight of royal favour upon her, sitting alongside the king, I did not sense that she was with him. She was almost indifferent to him.
     

Seven
     
    I follow Vesta through the white stone labyrinth. The corridors are so bare and minimal that they are disorientating and it is not difficult to imagine becoming completely lost. The lack of decadence and ornament helps me to deduce that we must be in the servant’s quarters.
    The walk, meanwhile, is accompanied by a strangely comfortable silence. I sense that neither of us places too much value upon conversation. This, in addition to the repetitiveness of the scenery, seems to only add to the distance we cover.
    Indeed, I feel as though we have walked twice the circumference of the palace before we arrive at her chambers. She steps inside and opens the door, holding it so that I can follow through. The austere whiteness is the first thing to strike me, and instinct temporarily stops me from going further. I sense some sort of trap. It could be a gaol cell, albeit without a bed, hidden away in the belly of the palace.
    It is at once immaculate and severe. The white walls, made of the same Tallakarn stone, seem cleaner here than anywhere else in the palace. Meanwhile, there is not an awful lot else to take in. There is a dark oak desk in the middle of the floor with two very basic matching chairs on either side. That is all. I doubt that there is even a speck of dust. The only man in the kingdom that would consider this room to be decadent would be my father. “Four