by Dave Duncan
Twenty years ago the Scarlet Spider had been a mere clerk, reticent and obsequious, his working quarters cramped and dingy. Now the center of his web shone in an obscene display of gold and crystal to proclaim his greatness. So much opulence made Otto feel slightly ill. The years had taken their toll of the old man. His beard and eyebrows were white, his fingers knobbed, and his smile displayed long teeth when he offered his cardinal’s ring for the visitor to kiss. If he were a garment, he would be regarded as threadbare. Nevertheless, he flaunted the red hat and robes of a prince of the Church and his chair was just high enough to register as a throne. Not bad for a butcher’s son.
“My lord baron, it is good to see you again. You didn’t heed my warning, I see.”
Otto straightened up. “I recall no warning, Your Eminence.”
“Did I not tell you that if you grew any bigger you would become a very easy target?” He laughed. “No, I do not remember our conversation either, but that’s what I always say to oversized youths, and my notes tell me that it was twenty years ago when your father brought you to court.”
“I remember you, Your Eminence.”
“I was more of a foothill than an eminence then. You have a letter for me?”
“I have a letter from my brother the count addressed to His Majesty.” Otto held it out. The only other person present, a plump, fussy little Franciscan with a patch over one eye, came around his shoulder and took it, broke the seal with a knife, and handed it to Zdenek. He then pulled over one of the lesser chairs for Otto.
“Bring a goblet of wine for the baron, Brother Daniel. You will give me your opinion of the vintage, my lord, and how it compares with your own renowned Dobkov reds. Pray excuse me while I read His Majesty’s mail.”
Brother Daniel brought Otto wine and then retired to a desk behind the door, not easily visible from where Otto had been seated.
The cardinal’s throne put his back to the light, which helped his reading, no doubt, but also shadowed his expression. He lowered the letter. “Incredible! Your brothers have done far better than I ever dared hope. Blood will out, as they say. Your family has long been a bulwark of the Jorgarian throne, my lord.”
“Your Eminence is kind.” The Zdeneks had butchered cattle and the Magnuses had butchered men.
The cardinal leaned back in his chair and chewed his lip for a moment. He had conspicuously not asked how a letter dated the day before had arrived so incredibly fast, and he had spoken of brothers, plural, not of a man-at-arms and his varlet. Normally a varlet would not be mentioned at all.
“Why did the landsknechte run away, do you suppose?”
“I do not know, Eminence. The person who brought that letter did not know either; he mentioned a possible disagreement over pay, which I find strange. Count Anton is young and inexperienced, but he is not an idiot. He needed those troops like he needs lungs.”
Zdenek nodded. “You are experienced in military matters, my lord. Tell a humble cleric what happens next in this forthcoming attack.” His pretense of humility might have been intended to amuse, but even without the mask of shadow, his face would never be readable unless he wanted it to be.
“If Castle Gallant is as good as its reputation, even a beginner like my brother should be able to hold off the foe for a month or two. That may be long enough, because the Wends will be sleeping in tents, in the mountains, in winter. Neither men nor horses prosper in snow. I would not expect them to dig in for a long siege, especially as the lake that is their way home will start freezing soon. They cannot bypass the fort to impose a true siege, so they cannot starve it out. Your Eminence’s reinforcements will arrive… when?”
The old man shrugged resignedly. “I have been promised some lancers and mounted archers, not many, and they cannot be there for at least another month. Even forty days may be optimistic. Gallant has always been considered impregnable. Is it still?”
Otto’s grandfathers would have said yes. Father might have done. “No. When Constantinople fell, we learned that nowhere is impregnable anymore, and the years since have confirmed that. If this bombard they call the Dragon is as large as my informant thinks it is, then the only question is whether the Wends can wrestle it in over a mountain trail.”
The cardinal nodded. “It was made by the gunsmiths of Sweden, the best in Christendom, and is reported to throw three-hundred-pound balls for more than a mile.”
“Then Gallant will fall.”
“If the Wends can get the monster emplaced.” The old man raised white tufts of eyebrow inquiringly.
So began the bargaining. “Of course. But who is to stop them? The obvious defense is to sally and try to seize the bombard itself and spike it, but Anton does not have enough troops to do that.”
The old man’s eyelids drooped slyly. “You have other brothers. If His Majesty was so generous to one who had yet to achieve anything, do you doubt that he will richly reward another after he has saved the entire country from rapine?”
He meant Wulfgang, but Otto was not without experience in negotiating.
“Possibly Your Eminence refers to my brother Vladislav? He hates to be left out of a good fight.”
Zdenek produced a cynical smile as easily as if he had pulled it out of a pocket. “I gambled a county because His Majesty was about to lose it anyway. I doubt if I can afford two more. Titles, yes. Stars and ribbons, by all means. I am sure Sir Vladislav has military experience that his younger brothers lack, but he can do little by himself and I see no practical means of bringing in effective reinforcements for him to direct.”
Of course not. Wulf would certainly not transport men he could not trust to keep his secret, so only Vlad could be brought in. Besides, other men would not fight for a man they must consider a servant of the devil. It was Vlad or nobody-except possibly Otto himself, but he need not decide that until he knew what Vlad was willing to do.
Now the cardinal was frowning and drumming fingers on the arm of his chair impatiently. “Brother Daniel, see how many more petitioners are waiting and warn the chancellor that we may have to take a recess.”
The friar rose and departed without a word. The moment the door closed and the two men were alone, Zdenek leaned forward and spoke more urgently. “The following conversation will never happen.”
“Of course not,” Otto agreed.
“Then let us speak freely. You are a soldier. You can bring the Dragon within five miles or so of Cardice by water, but then you must transport the monster over a mountain trail-not steep, I am informed, but muddy and punctuated by bridges and sharp bends. How do you do it?”
“I employ a Speaker, likely the same Speaker who cursed Count Bukovany and his son.”
“Quite. And this letter tells me that your brothers have identified him as Father Vilhelmas, an Orthodox priest. Without Satan’s help, Duke Wartislaw cannot bring his bombard along that road in the time at his disposal.”
“Satan’s help, Your Eminence?”
“Certainly. All my enemies work for Satan.”
Again Otto could not tell if the old man was serious or joking, but he refused to be intimidated. “Not an implication I want to hear near my family, Eminence. If you cannot send reinforcements to aid my brother the count, can you reinforce the other one? He has achieved wonders so far, but he is young and alone and without experience.” Now there was no doubt whom they were discussing, or what his role was.
There was a pause.
“A reasonable request,” Zdenek conceded. “It presents some difficulties that I cannot explain in the brief time we have available. Something might be achieved. Such matters should not be written down, so tell him that the password will be ‘Greenwood.’ He may trust anyone who comes with that word.”
“Excellent! There remains the matter of reward.”
The cardinal’s glare was very gratifying. “Your youngest brother is a Speaker. We both know that, and he gave himself away at the hunt a week ago. Had I realized that he was eighteen, I might have approached him di
rectly, but my records inexplicably indicated that he was only sixteen. Women mature younger, but male Speakers’ powers are rarely properly developed at that age. Someone had been shielding him, I suspect. I could not appoint an unknown of sixteen to be a lord of the marches-my action in promoting his brother to the earldom was bizarre enough. I hoped that Wulfgang’s aid would help speed his journey to his new post, but I honestly did not expect such a daunting display of power. Who has been training him?”
“No one, I am certain.”
“He must have the endurance of a seasoned warrior.”
“It is in his blood. He is a Magnus.”
“So now he wants to hold His Majesty to ransom, does he? Will a dukedom suffice?”
“He would spurn it,” Otto said quickly. “He enjoys hunting, so a forest of his own might tempt him, but all the duties and responsibilities of a great landowner would not. That is not what he covets.”
Younger sons of noble houses were always ravenous for land, honors, and titles. It was largely they who kept Europe roiling in a perpetual state of warfare. Yet the cardinal did not seem surprised to hear of an exception.
“Speakers are not as other men, my lord. Or as other women. The best thing I can offer your Wulfgang is my protection. It is limited. If he starts walking through walls or striking men dead, then the Church will have him and that will be the end of him. As long as he remains discreet, I may be able to persuade the archbishop to turn a blind eye. More than that I cannot promise.”
“Your Eminence’s assurance is most comforting, but there is more. The little god with the arrows has intervened.”
“Martyrs pity me!” The old man rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “The daughter? Are you telling me that we may lose this war because of an outbreak of juvenile lust?”
“It would not be the first such mishap since Troy, Eminence.”
“No, I suppose it would not.” Zdenek leaned back in his chair. “You expect the king to reverse his edict? How bad is it?”
“In Wulfgang’s case, life-threatening-and unprecedented. He has never acted like this before. According to his account, the lady returns his ardor. Anton does not know, and probably will not care as long as his claim to the earldom is preserved.”
The door opened as Brother Daniel returned. The cardinal straightened up. “Well, they must be discreet. Certain acts are irrevocable, you understand?”
Marriage, for example. Otto nodded. What God had joined together stayed joined together.
“If the castle falls,” the Spider said, “the point is moot. If he succeeds, then Jorgary will be deeply in his debt. Meanwhile, I shall report your good news to His Majesty, and you may be assured that the house of Magnus will stand even higher in his favor than it has ever done.”
Hopefully that would be higher than where it had stood when it needed to ransom one of its sons.
Otto rose, then knelt to kiss the cardinal’s ring. Brother Daniel opened a door for him, but not the one by which he had entered. He walked down a stair and left the palace.
CHAPTER 26
Riding through Mauvnik, Wulf was anxious to consult his Voices, but reluctant to let any of the vendors, pedestrians, or barrow-pullers see him talking to empty space. He had to wait until he was almost at the Bacchus before he found a gap in the traffic.
“Holy Saints, if I ask you, can you take me to Castle Orel, in Bavaria?”
The Light brightened the alley and St. Helena spoke.
— No.
“What! Why not?”
No answer, of course. That sort of question they never answered.
But the Light remained, so he tried again. “You took me to Koupel, and you took me to Cardice. And Dobkov, and now Mauvnik. What’s different about Bavaria?”
Still no answer, meaning he had to work out the answer for himself. He knew Dobkov intimately and he had seen pictures of Castle Gallant. And the Voices had offered to take him to Marek, not to Koupel.
“Could you take me to my brother Vladislav?”
— Yes.
Success! “Thank you, but not right now. Can you tell me where he is and what he is doing?”
— He is in bed, Victorinus said.
— Fornicating, Helena added.
That did sound like Vlad, although the timing was odd. Nor was it a likely occupation while chained to a cellar wall.
“At this time of day? Has he nothing better to do?”
— No, he is a captive. But his captor treats him well. He is allowed to abuse servant women.
Did the girls regard it as abuse, or a welcome break in their working day?
Wulf thanked the Voices and rode into the innyard. He was starting to define limits to their powers. He felt that this must be significant, if he could just see how.
Copper would not be welcome in Vlad’s bedroom. Wulf returned him to care of the stable hands, and remembered to take the bag of gold away with him, trying not to tilt sideways too conspicuously as he walked. Upstairs he found the hired boy sitting outside the room, cleaning a basketful of boots.
“You carry on with that,” he said as he unlocked the door. “I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone except Baron Magnus himself, understand?”
He locked himself in. The room was probably the best in the house, and even two good-sized beds did not clutter it much. Large windows let in plenty of sun, but they were securely barred and not overlooked by any others. Miracle-working should be safe enough here.
“Holy saints,” he said very softly. “What is Vlad doing now?”
— Vladislav has dismissed his companion and is asleep already.
“Will you take me to him, please?”
A rectangular slice of reality disappeared into darkness. Stepping closer, he smelled different air. There was a door-sized hole there into somewhere else, a dimmer place, and a wind blowing in his face. Gingerly, he stretched out a hand. It did not fall off, but it was in deep shadow.
— Step through, quickly!
Wulf obeyed and was plunged into gloom as the doorway behind him closed. A roar of thunder shattered the silence. He ignored it, hoping that the boy in the Bacchus had not heard. Already his eyes had adapted enough to see chinks of light around a shutter. He made his way to it without tripping over anything and opened it, to find himself looking out a window high up in one tower of a many-towered castle, upon a crag surrounded by green forest. In the distance lay a small silver lake flanked by a road that might be the main approach. White mountains lined the skyline. So this was Bavaria, was it?
Another explosion of thunder…
He turned to survey a circular and drafty chamber. The four-poster bed in the center almost filled it, leaving only space for a chair, a chest, a commode, and of course the ladder connecting traps in floor and ceiling. A pleasant enough jail, if the supply of servant girls held up.
“Saints, can anyone hear us speak?” Or, Speak.
— Not at present.
“Thank you.”
Another monstrous snore… Why didn’t the curtains billow and the tower sway? Wulf took a firm grip on the bed curtain nearest the window and hauled it aside, thereby exposing a mound of quilt like a haystack under snow.
“Vlad! Vlad! Wake up! It’s Wulf.”
The next snore didn’t happen. “Uh?” Vlad mumbled.
“Wake up! It’s Wulfgang, your brother.”
“Wha-?” The quilt surged up and dropped to expose the top half of Sir Vladislav Magnus, sitting up and blinking.
Wulf had forgotten just how huge the largest Magnus was, and how hairy. His shoulders were thatched. His jaw and brow were massive, and although his hairline was starting to recede, there was little bare skin visible anywhere on his face. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Very few young men wore beards, but his was as huge as everything else about him.
“God be with you, Brother.”
“Fires of hell! How did you get here, Wolfcub?”
Wulf put a finger to his lips and whispered, “I Spoke.”
“And I didn’t-not until I had to stop Anton breaking his neck. Once you get started, it’s hard to give it up. Like servant girls. Here, Anton sent you this.” He dropped the bag on the foothills marking Vlad’s thighs-close enough to his crotch to get his attention, but not close enough to damage.
“God’s breath! Be careful, boy! What’s this?”
“Two thousand florins.”
Vlad drew a deep breath. “From Anton?”
Despite the forebodings Wulf had jokingly expressed to Otto, he was looking forward to this discussion. “The first installment on his wife’s dowry. Baby Anton’s been growing up while you’ve been lazing around here, Sir Vlad. At the moment he is keeper of Castle Gallant, in Cardice, guarding the Silver Road north.” He watched the shaggy eyebrows fly up. An honor like that would satisfy Vlad as a worthy reward for a whole lifetime of cleaving and skewering the king’s enemies. “Unfortunately the Pomeranians are invading. Anton doesn’t have forces to withstand a long siege and the king can’t get reinforcements there before the Wends bring up their wall-smashing cannon. Anton needs your help, Brother. He needs a seasoned warrior like you. He needs you very much and very soon.”
Vlad’s always-ugly face twisted into something worse. “You are making this up. How did you get here, really?”
“Before God, every word I said is true.”
The big man scowled as he thought it through. “And how do I get to Castle Gallant?”
“My Voices will take us.”
Vlad crossed himself. “Satanism!”
“If my Voices are evil, why have they saved Anton’s life twice in the last week? Anyway, I can tell you everything when we get to Dobkov.”
Vlad laughed at him. “Just like that? Am I allowed to put on some clothes first? Emilian isn’t here. He won’t be back until tonight, probably late. All this money will have to be weighed.”
“It’s warranted by a Medici seal on the bag.”