In the very centre of the bed, propped up with dozens of pillows, was the most extraordinary old woman Atayla had ever seen.
Her face was deeply lined and her eyes were sunk in her head. She wore what appeared to be a red wig, in which were stuck a number of combs with diamond-encrusted tops, while round her neck were innumerable necklaces of huge pearls, which hung over her shrunken chest onto the sheets in front of her.
Her hands with their swollen fingers and enlarged veins were weighted down with rings, which flashed with every movement she made and her wrists were encircled with diamond bracelets.
She looked so fantastic that Atayla knew that she was gaping at her and she quickly remembered to curtsey as Felicity advanced towards the bed.
“So, you are back!” the Dowager said to Fe
