“She set the cup down, made sure her nightgown was decently arranged, and called, “Who’s there?” “Granny Leeward here, Responsible of Brightwater. Granny Leeward of Castle Traveller. May I come in?” “You sound nothing whatsoever like a Granny,” said Responsible deliberately. “I do believe you’re a fraud and a sham, whoever you may be.” There was a silence, time enough for her to have another sip of her tea. It was her favorite cup, emerald-green china with a rim of silver, and sturdy... enough to drink from half awake without worrying that she’d crush it, the last unbroken one of a set used for company meals when she was still in Granny School. She despised the cups her mother and grandmother chose to start their days with, delicate white porcelain with the Brightwater Crest on the side, big enough to hold maybe three good swallows, and so frail they felt like eggshells in your hand. She could face those later in the day if need be, but not before breakfast, and at no time did she admire them.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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