The Turquoise Queen by Pedro Urvi (animal farm read TXT) 📕

“Let’s hope so,” Lasgol said. But he could not shake off a sense of foreboding. “And you don’t know anything about the others?”

“Astrid and Viggo, not a word, but that doesn’t surprise me, because … you know … they’re assassins, and their missions are top secret. I haven’t seen them around here, though in any case, even if they were in the city they’d have orders not to be seen, so … well …” She shrugged.

“I was hoping you’d have news from Astrid.”

“I’m sorry. It seems to me that we know less and less all the time about where those two are.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of too, and that we’ll see less and less of them.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame. They chose the most secret of the Specialties.”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part.”

Nilsa half-smiled. “They obviously didn’t listen.”

Lasgol looked rueful. “That’s right.”

“Gerd’s in the south, watching the movements of the Zangrians. I got a message from him. He’s happy because he knows both the area and the ‘uglies’ as he calls them.” Lasgol nodded, looking amused. “Ingrid was sent north, to keep watch on the passes.”

“That’s odd. Are they afraid the Wild Ones will come down from the Frozen Lands?”

“No idea. I’m just a rather gossipy liaison and messenger. I’ve no idea what’s behind the reasons for the orders we get.” She smiled and shrugged.

“Keep your nosy instincts sharp. They’ll come in very handy.”

“Done deal.”

“But don’t get caught.”

“Never. I can pretend like a master.”

“You’re a real street comedian.”

“So I am,” she agreed. “Now come on, you’d better report.”

“Yeah, let’s see what Gondabar wants me for. I’m afraid it’s not going to be anything good …”

Chapter 11

They went down the black stone spiral staircase to the third floor, where he was to report.

“I’ll wait for you in the dining hall on the first floor. I’ll see what’s cooking in the kitchen and sit at one of the long tables to see what the other Rangers have got to tell me” She winked at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you there as soon as I’m done.”

She smiled. “Good luck!” she said, and vanished downstairs like lightning. Lasgol hoped she would not trip, because at the speed she was going she would crack her head open. That was what Nilsa was like: the oddest thing about the redhead was that even though she was aware that she was not the most coordinated person in the realm, she did not let this small handicap get in her way and went on acting as she was herself: pure nerve. A great quality that Lasgol appreciated in his friend, even though he was afraid it was going to cause her the odd problem here and there.

He opened the door to Gondabar’s intelligence hall. In the enormous room he saw five Rangers working non-stop behind their large desks. This hall had fascinated him the first time he saw it, and on his second visit it still had the same effect. On one wall there were large maps of different regions of Norghana, drawn with infinite care. He wondered who had made them: some Green Cartographer, probably. Those maps caught his attention, but the ones of foreign kingdoms and distant areas of Tremia on the other walls fascinated him even more.

The Rangers who were at work there were too busy to pay any attention to him. They were writing messages and notes on parchment and in tomes, which Lasgol guessed were deeply important, so that he did not mind the fact that they never looked up as he came in. On his way to the end of the room he passed a map of Norghana and was forced to stop and take a closer look at it. It was full of pins, each bearing a ribbon with the name of the Ranger it represented. Using his Hawk’s Eye skill, he searched for his own, and to his great surprise, found it, halfway between the village of Isverien and the capital. It seemed incredible to him. He looked around at the five Rangers, who went on working. They knew he was on his way, and as he had not yet reported, they had registered him as if he were between the two points.

He shook his head, impressed, and came to Liriuson’s desk. The Ranger looked every one of his seventy years, since he did not have a single hair on his head and his eyebrows were thick and very white. He was writing a name on a ribbon he was intending to put in the map.

“Specialist Lasgol Eklund, reporting,” Lasgol announced formally.

“Orders, please,” Liriuson replied calmly, as if he repeated the same phrase a thousand times a year. He looked up and examined him from head to foot.

“I received this message,” Lasgol said. He handed it to Liriuson, who read it slowly.

“Right. Just a moment.” He took something out of a drawer in his desk: a silent whistle. He blew three times, without disturbing the other Rangers, and immediately a new Ranger came into the hall and joined them.

“Take Ranger Lasgol Eklund to Gondabar.”

“At once, sir.” The Ranger bowed respectfully and left, followed by Lasgol. They went up to the fourth floor of the tower, where Gondabar’s personal quarters were. Lasgol recognized the anteroom with its great oak door and the two Rangers on watch duty. His guide left him waiting there and went into the leader’s chamber. A moment later he returned and beckoned to Lasgol, who followed him along a corridor which ended in three doors. The Ranger knocked on the one on the left.

“Come in,” came a voice from behind the door.

Lasgol obeyed, and the Ranger left. Lasgol found the leader of the Rangers sitting behind his enormous, ornamented desk. His expression was stern as usual,