Bruglia.
3201. Verdant.
The day slowly came to be, Lola begrudgingly lifting out of her slumber to the sound of unfamiliar birds. Her sense drifted back to her and she realised with relief that the nausea and headache had gone. It took her a second or two to recall where she was, at which point she threw back the covers and sat up in the four-poster bed.
Her arm was still sore from the injections they’d both had to have before travelling to Palinor; protection against some of the more unusual diseases that existed in that dimension, just as the blood tests a week earlier had checked that they were not going to transmit any of Earth’s nastiest bugs.
She swung her legs to the floor, running her hands down the soft, silk nightgown that had been provided. The bed itself had curtains, which was a new experience. Thin, lace-like curtains that were a soft shade of peach. The room itself was all warm oranges and reds, hues hewn from the rock of the surrounding landscape. Her bags were sat in the corner of the room, still unopened. Most of the previous day had been spent at the palace, where they’d been given a tour of the gardens and courtyards, before being shown to their rooms. Despite the efforts of Naveen the micrologist medic at the portal station, Lola had found herself tired to the point of exhaustion despite having not really done anything - apparently a common side effect of portal travel, which tended to be brief but annoying. That first day had been a bust, then, but they’d met Princess Daryla - just as striking as Lola remembered from the airship meeting - and had outlined the itinerary for the week. Then she’d retired to her bedroom and slept for twelve hours.
They were on Palinor! The thought shot through her and she shivered with excitement. Opening the balcony doors, she stepped out into a wall of heat and looked down on the city. It was stretched over several large plateaus, raised up from the dusty canyon floors. The mesas were oases perched in an otherwise arid environment. The buildings were the same orange-red of the rock, though some were painted vivid colours. Off to the left was Fountain University, a towering, sprawling cathedral of towers, perched atop its own outcropping, with the portal station on its southern side. Today they would at last be able to explore the city. She clenched her fists and grinned: she was on another world.
A knock at the door announced that breakfast was served.
*
There was a loud, brief knock at the door which woke Clarke from his sleep. Groggily he propped himself up on one elbow and blinked, trying to clear his head. “What is it?”
“Breakfast is served, sir. Follow the corridor left and down the staircase to the breakfast room.”
“Right,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “thanks.”
He glanced at his watch. It was seven in the morning, though Palinor was four hours behind Mid-Earth time. It had made for a long first day, and a much-needed lie-in. He chuckled to himself at the memory of Styles throwing up all over the portal station. A small part of him was proud for not being the one to get portal sickness.
The bed had been plush and uncomfortable, far more padded and deep than he was used to, while the odd curtains around the frame had felt to him a little like being sealed up in a coffin overnight. He pulled on his clothes, then splashed his face with water from the basin. He had been relieved upon arrival to discover an ordinary toilet in his room, after having heard all kinds of horror stories about Palinese ablutions. Bruglia, it seemed, was not all that different to London. Or perhaps the guest chambers were designed to make foreign visitors feel welcome.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Leaving the curtains closed, he left the room and ventured downstairs. By the time he found the breakfast room Styles was already there, in conversation with Princess Daryla. Clarke momentarily considered whether he should have brought more formal clothes, then decided he didn’t care.
“Good morning, Detective Clarke,” said the princess with a beaming smile.
“Morning,” he said, “and please, Yannick is fine. Or Clarke. Most people just call me Clarke.”
He sat opposite Styles, at a seat proffered by an aen’fa servant. The table was long and ornate, though places had only been set for the three of them. The room itself was high-ceilinged and grand. It made Clarke uncomfortable.
His arrival apparently triggered activity from the servants, as dishes were whisked out of a side door and presented to the three of them. Bowls of fruit were placed in the middle of the table, including several he did not recognise. A covered plate was put in front of him and he braced himself for whatever local cuisine lay crouched beneath. The servant lifted the lid to reveal a full plate of sausages, bacon, eggs and beans, with a hash brown to one side and a black pudding on the other. Clarke involuntarily laughed, then shook his head.
“I thought a gentle introduction to Palinor was in order,” Daryla said, clearly enjoying the surprise. “You will both have an intense day. It will probably feel quite overwhelming. So I thought a complete British would make you feel more at ease.”
“Full English.”
“I’m sorry?”
“This breakfast,” Clarke said, indicating his plate, “it’s called a ‘full English’.”
She stared at him as if he was an idiot, then glanced to Styles, who had frozen and was avoiding his eyes. Then the princess burst into laughter and clapped her hands. “A full English! What’s the difference? Complete British? How silly of us. Perhaps ‘complete British’ should be the Bruglian variety of the dish?”
“Names aside,” Styles said, “it looks delicious.”
“Smells good,” Clarke agreed, forking half a sausage into his mouth.”
“Some of the ingredients are imported,” Daryla said, “and others are local. I’ll let you try to work out which is which.”
Clarke noticed that she was eating something entirely different: a small bowl of something that looked vaguely like porridge.
“Thank you again for the invitation to visit,” Styles said. “Such an honour. I’m so excited to be here. I’ve never been through a portal before. I’ve always wanted to, but couldn’t afford it. And you know how difficult it is to get a travel pass, if you’re not in government anyway. Though it’s probably easy for you.”
Daryla smiled. Her eyes seemed kind, Clarke thought, which struck him as unexpected for someone who was effectively inherited royalty. “My position does afford me certain privileges, certainly. Though even then, you’d be surprised by the paperwork. And all the tests and inoculations and what-have-you.”
“Christ,” Clarke said, “don’t get me started on that. The injections were worse than the actual portal transit.”
“Speak for yourself,” Styles said, with an embarrassed grin.
They ate their breakfasts in silence for a while, the only sounds from the birds outside and the clinking of cutlery.
“As Lola says, your invitation couldn’t have come at a better time. Will we be able to speak to the suspect today?”
Daryla nodded and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Absolutely. Though if you’d permit me an indulgence, I wish to give you a tour of the city on the way.”
Styles actually clapped. “Yes, please!”
“Good! Then once we are finished here, we’ll make our way to the Bruglia Museum of Zoology.”
Clarke sat back in his chair and frowned. “A zoo?”
“Yes, indeed.”
He shrugged. “We’ll take your lead, princess. As long as we get to talk to the prisoner, I’m happy to do the tourist bit as well.”
“It’s not entirely for pleasure,” Daryla said, her eyes piercing. “There is something I must show you which I think you will find most interesting. Something which relates to the kengto incident in London.” She glanced at the servants, who were standing close by, refilling their drinks as needed. “I’ll talk more of it on the way.”