Chapter eight
Concerning the traitoress Ros the ClawThe Zhantil Palace proved to be an odd sort of residence. Stately halls, winding staircases, cubbyholes, corridors lined with door after door leading to a maze of apartments beyond, lavishly ornamented windows, arrow slits, dovecots — oh, yes, Pando’s palace boasted them all. And yet, the place seemed odd. There was a quantity of good porphyry from Molynux, carpets of Walfarg weave, ceramics — naturally — of Pandahem ware. And yet, it was scarcely a place in which to live comfortably or happily.
If there had been no doubts about Tilda’s safety, I’d have been overjoyed to get out of Pando’s Zhantil Palace.
“That pipsqueak Ift,” growled Pompino as we went along the north corridor toward the barracks. “If he thinks he can throw me out jus
