The Goatherd and the King by Julie Steimle (detective books to read txt) 📕

for favor and never smiled. At least Dazder had confidence and self-respect.
“Then why don’t you,” Zeldar said with a snap to his voice that only he dared when he felt unjustly accused. “I, for one, see no point to it. You knew I was on the mountain with the herdsmen. If you wanted me to enter with any dignity then perhaps you should not have made me feel like a fugitive by setting guards about the place.”
“Don’t you dare make such inferences about me,” his stepmother snapped back, raising her chest indignantly. “I did no such thing.”
“The servants were taking bets whether I’d get caught,” Zeldar bit back while yanking out a pair of button flap trousers. “I saw them.”
She flustered and lifted her chin as if to set her dignity higher than his—which, considering that she was fully dressed and he still stood in his towel, was not hard to muster. “A low man bases his assumptions on the shenanigans of household help.”
“And a wise man knows that when things are astir among the servants, internal trouble is afoot,” Zeldar replied.
He grabbed a pair of socks and an undersuit and returned at once to the bathroom.
“Do not turn your back on me! I am speaking to you!” his stepmother shouted at him. She actually stomped her foot then, making Miilkin and Dazder jump.
Zeldar rolled his eyes and turned slowly around, still gripping his towel in one hand while his clothes were draped over his shoulder getting damp from his dripping hair. “Do you prefer that I change here then, Madame? I will if you insist.” He then proceeded to fumble with his towel.
Flushing red with new indignity and a greater embarrassment at what she had indeed commanded him to do, Zeldar’s stepmother spun round and stomped out of his bedroom with a shout. “I will speak with your father about your shameless indiscretion, Zeldar! You can be sure of that!”
She slammed the door behind her. Dazder and Miilkin left with her. Happily, Zeldar locked his door again, dropping his towel to the floor and proceeded to dress.

Not even a second after he had pulled on his smart black socks did the door shake with a firm knock. He looked up and trembled with the thought that it was his father. Taking a second, Zeldar reached over and picked up his clean boots and unfastened the clasps.
The door knocked again, this time with a voice after. “My lord, your father wishes to speak with you in his study.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Zeldar pulled on his boot and called out, “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute, Harrz.”
“Yes, young sir,” their gentleman porter returned, and Zeldar heard his soft footfalls echo away from the door down the hall.
Quickly, Zeldar took his other boot and opened the clasps to put it on. After stomping in them to make sure they fit, he locked the clasps and stood up straight. Drawing in a breath, Zeldar strode to the door. He put his hand on the door lever and pushed it down to open it, hoping that his father was only mildly irritated by his stepmother’s report. It was one thing having her harping on him. But to receive the disapproval of his father smarted worse than a thousand of his stepmother’s shrieking lectures in his face.
He stepped into the hall onto the thick carpet. Closing his door behind him, Zeldar took one step towards the stair where he expected to meet the usual barrage of guilt-making remarks from family and servants.
“You’re in for it this time,” Dazder said, suddenly appearing on the landing as if lying in wait to attack first.
“Stuff it, twerp,” Zeldar said, walking more proudly down the hall to the stair in a larger stride.
Dazder followed after him and jeered. “You still smell like a goat, half-breed.”
Not even giving his half-brother a second look, Zeldar replied with relative calm, “Better than smelling like you, half-wit.”
That made Dazder curse out loud, which set a grin on Zeldar’s face because soon after he heard Bentarr yelling, “You said a swear! I’m telling Mom. Mom!”
Zeldar continued down the stairs as his younger brothers bickered on the landing above. With two down and only whimpering Miilkin to go, there was little to bother him now except the betting servants.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Zeldar proceeded at once to the wide hall, passing the library and the family room where he glimpsed Miilkin whining at Minwel for a bite of her second candy fruit. Minwel noticed her elder brother pass by, but pretended not to see him so Miilkin wouldn’t, skipping quickly from the door and leading him on with one promised piece. Then Zeldar passed the dining room where their serving girls, Triin and Sawiin, were setting the plates and crystal goblets and a flagon of creamed juice, undoubtedly for guests they were expecting. They did not see him, which was good. He then passed the kitchen where several house servants were snickering about the argument they heard up stairs. One man was bickering that Zeldar had not been caught sneaking in; therefore he won by technicality. The other argued back that Dazder caught him and therefore the other still owed him money. At this, Zeldar had to stop and stick his head in the room, too infuriated not to pass by without remark.
“Technically, I was caught coming in. Minwel let me in at the window. But unlike some people, she doesn’t turn traitor for her own amusement,” he said with a sharp nod.
They all turned, surprised at his voice, and more so at his intense glare.
He then nodded to the kitchen maid. “I saw Dazder steal her candy fruit earlier, so you had better keep an eye out for him again. He’s in a vengeful mood right now.”
With that, he turned from the door and continued on.
Zeldar reached the end of the hall and turned right where there was a shiny stained wood door. He took a hold of the handle and pushed it down but did not open it yet. Drawing in a strengthening breath, Zeldar closed his eyes and hoped that his father wasn’t seriously upset with him. Pushing it open, he stepped into the room.
“Son…” he heard his father say before opening his eyes.
Zeldar opened his eyes and saw his father sitting in his high-backed chair with his one leg crossed over his knee while looking at a creased stack of papers in his hands. It looked like a typed letter by the nice paper and the bleed through ink on the other side. His father was gazing at him with a sober expression that was neither angry nor happy.
“Close the door,” his father said nodding to the doorway.
He did as he was bade, shutting the door with care and stepping forward to hear his father’s judgment. Putting his hands behind his back, Zeldar cleared his throat and attempted to speak in his defense. It never came out. His father spoke first.
“Must you persist at tormenting your stepmother?” his father asked immediately.
Zeldar flushed as his retort came more readily. “I did nothing of the sort. She walked in on me as I was getting out of the shower. I was startled.”
His father gave him a sly look and leaned forward, uncrossing his legs as he did. “Is that so? She said you threatened to walk in front of her naked.”
Rolling his eyes now, Zeldar replied, “I was attempting to change my clothes in the privacy of the bathroom. She insisted that I remain and listen to her while wearing nothing but my towel. I was merely making it plain to her that it was an inappropriate moment to talk with her just then.”
Sighing loudly, Lord Tarrn sat back in the chair. He gazed toward the window in silence, peering at the fruit pickers that were coming in with bushels of it for the manor guests.
He said in a tired voice, “Zeldar, you must cut short these feuds with your stepmother. And don’t you tell me she started it either. You are a young man now and you can no longer blame your actions upon those of another, even if that other person is antagonistic you. Understood?”
Zeldar nodded, lowering his head and sighing like his father. He also glanced out the window, if only for a moment to see what his father was looking at.
“You are, as of this day, to enter complete gentlemen society. I will have dinner guests coming over this night—two gentlemen, their ladies and some young women of courting age. After tonight we are to go to town where Lord Barrwan is having a party where other young ladies and gentlemen will be gathering.” His father paused. He turned and looked at Zeldar plainly. “You are to be on your best behavior tonight, as what you do will reflect on me and the rest of the family of Tarrn. You are no longer a child, my boy.”
There was no answer to that declaration. Zeldar nodded again to his father, murmuring, “Yes, sir.”
There was silence again. Zeldar’s father gazed on his son for some time and then held out the paper he had in his hands. “I received this yesterday, which urged my arrival here to see you. I have been contemplating it for some time without any answer and now I am asking you, why is Ferr’durnak University writing me saying that you did not reply to their acceptance letter?”
The silence after his words was thick as cake, and Zeldar found it hard to swallow.
Clearing his throat, yet not meeting his father’s eyes, Zeldar replied with a slight shake to his voice, “Uh, well…because I did not choose to go to Ferr’durnak University.”
Cul’rii Tarrn sat forward in his chair. He stared more steadily on his son. “Did not choose…? What? Don’t tell me you are still entertaining that notion of becoming a goat herder? I thought that notion died from you when you were five ?”
Zeldar shook his head, replying with haste. “Oh, no sir. I never really seriously considered that. I was just saying that to get my stepmother angry.”
“What then?” his father shouted, shaking the typed pages in Zeldar’s face. “Why have you rejected the highest university in our nation? Ferr’durnak University wants you, Zeldar! That is something to be proud of!”
Bowing his head with a twitch of pain, Zeldar replied, “Indeed Father, I know that. But I do not want Ferr’durnak. They’re full of presumptuous old windbags, and I can’t stand another year with Ferr Wil and his gang of idiots.”
“They’re your friends!” his father exclaimed with some puzzlement.
Nodding with a grimace, his son replied, “So they say. However they are