The Fragile Tower - Book 1 of the No.1 magical fantasy series

The Fragile Tower Chapter 18 - The Faithful Servant

Grace only realised that they had changed her clothes once she had levered her way out of the sleeping pod. It opened on her command and she swung her legs out, before noticing that she was wearing baggy trousers and soft shoes instead of the leggings and skirt and boots.

With a numb feeling, she pulled up her trousers and saw only bare skin. The true-seer was gone.

She tried not to panic, despite remembering Mr. Fredrickson's insistence that she would need it to guard against illusion.

I've been all right so far, she thought. But she knew with a sinking feeling that the Queen would be a much more difficult opponent than the cold mage.

She looked down towards the doctor's desk, wondering if she had the stone, but there was nobody there. She would have to go and find out and hope they didn't recognise what it was.

A millisecond later, the feeling grew a lot worse as she realised that the book was gone with it. She would have died three times over by now without it – more, in all probability, given that they had travelled safely on the winds instead of down the road. The thought of having to manage without it was terrifying.

Well, she thought, I guess I'll just have to go and get it back.

She heaved herself upright, feeling tired but no longer in pain, to her great relief. In fact, she felt no more sleepy or stiff than she usually did after waking up in the morning.

As soon as she stood on the step outside the pod, she was carried gently downwards to ground level. And then she was suddenly able to hear mumbled voices, and she followed them further into the dimly-lit room.

There were figures moving in the gloom, all of them wearing white. Each worked beside one of the pods, glowing lights marking some form of healing Grace wouldn't have understood if she could have seen it.

In the centre of the floor, at one of the pods set on the ground, the doctor crouched, tending to someone inside it. The Captain – Roschan, the doctor had called him - stood beside her, and the two were in the midst of a quiet conversation.

"... going to get any better," the Captain was saying.

"Then she needs to find me more healers," the doctor said.

"I've told her –"

"I know you have." It was a snappish remark, and Grace could see that her body was tense with frustration. "But something needs to get through to her."

"But what's going to convince her when every one of her Captains has failed?" Roschan asked.

"I don't know," the doctor said, bitterly. Then, after a pause, she added quietly, "Maybe if someone threatened her precious child..."

Grace remembered the tiny throne in her dream. So the queen had a child. She hadn't imagined her as a mother; nor as a wife, though she supposed there didn't need to be marriage to bring about children.

How could she take all those boys away from their mothers, then? And the girls with power? It made Grace feel still more revolted. She understood what it was to love a child, and she still took them.

The doctor straightened, and turned back towards the desk. Her eyes met Grace's, and she let out a small huff of air.

"It's four hours until you're supposed to be awake," she said, testily.

Grace heard the Captain murmur, quietly, "Says she of the thirty-hour day..."

The doctor scowled at him, and then paced towards Grace. Behind her, Grace caught a glimpse of a young woman's face drawn in pain before the pod hissed shut.