by Dave Duncan
“I did not come for pleasure, my lady. Strictly business.”
“I’ll accept money if it makes you feel better.” She swung her legs down and continued to sit on the edge of the bed in full view. “I might even offer it. How much?”
“You need my brother Anton for that, not me.” He turned away, pretending to admire the room.
“I like the rags. Italian? But I still think you’d look better without them. “
“Not today, thank you.”
“Then what else can I do for you, Sir Wulfgang? There isn’t a perversion I haven’t watched at the prince’s parties.”
“It’s him we must talk about.” Wulf forced himself to face her again, trying not to stare at the scarlet nipples or the dark wisps at groin and armpits that contradicted her blond tresses. “What’s your real reason for wanting to leave court as soon as the old king dies and your contract lapses? I frankly don’t believe your story of wanting to marry and have children.”
She put her head back and laughed, making her breasts bounce. “I’m not the type, am I?” Then she scowled. “You really want the truth?”
“I always want the truth.”
“You’ll grow out of that pretty fast, sonny. The real reason? Because this place is a cesspool—everybody trying to seem what they’re not, everybody waiting for the king to die, everybody sponging off the prince, the prince himself pretending to be a perverted hedonist when he’s just a juvenile drunkard, terrified of sex with men or women. I’m no saint … well, my cadger and I belong to the Saints, but the Church won’t beatify me anytime soon. I enjoy men. I don’t like what goes on at the prince’s parties. They sicken even me. The whole place sickens me. Satisfied now?”
“Thank you. Last night you listed your duties for me, but you did not mention blocking assassination attempts.”
Surely nobody else could shrug so seductively. “I don’t have to. Even supposing anyone wanted to kill the dolt, who would try it here in the palace? He’s always with a group of other boys, and usually some of them are armed. He eats out of the same pots, drinks from the same bottles. Even if someone tried, I would hear of it and reverse it, unless it was a very fast death.”
“He isn’t in the palace now, he’s out hunting, and that’s exactly where most assassinations are tried. There are weapons, and lots of cover. Why don’t you go with him on the hunts?”
She shuddered, another very widespread movement. “Don’t be stupid. Any riding I do is done right here, in bed. Fending off assassination attempts is not included in my list of duties.”
“Has that always been the case, or has the list recently been changed?”
She fluttered eyelashes at him again. “Whatever do you mean?”
He could not threaten her; she was a Speaker and would simply disappear. “When you came to collect me last night, who put you up to it? It wasn’t Crown Prince Konrad who sent you, as you said. Who was it?”
Darina slid off the bed and walked straight at him. He stepped aside hastily and she continued on to a closet to find a wrap. Golden hair flowed down her back to her hips.
She said over her shoulder, “Two nights after your brother slaughtered the hunt at Chestnut Hill, he was pointed out to me at a ball. Next day I heard Cabbage Head screaming that the Magnus madman had been made a count, so I Looked in on him. He was obviously already in Castle Gallant, ten days’ ride away. He has no nimbus. It didn’t take me long to find you.” She headed for the fireplace.
“Who’s planning to kill him, Darina?”
Smiling mockingly at him, she took hold of the bell rope and tugged. “That’s not my problem.”
“Then your cadger forbade you to defend him?”
She smiled and said, “Can’t say,” offhandedly. “I just thought the famous Magnus loyalty might be interested.”
“So that was why you came and fetched me from Gallant last night?”
Shrug. “Can’t say.”
“You’re on the prince’s side, then?”
She seemed surprised by the question. “I suppose I am. He’s a moron, but not usually malicious. He’s bored crazy, because Zdenek won’t let him do anything.”
“Why does he pretend to be such a pervert if he isn’t?” Wulf realized that he was desperate to hear that there was something there worth saving.
Darina turned to stare at him appraisingly. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you? I don’t know, because he was doing it when I was assigned to him. He was barely shaving then.”
“Guess for me. You know him.”
“He may have started it to get back at his grandfather for ignoring him. He got the whole court seething with scandal. Now everyone’s surfeited and lost interest, but he can’t stop.”
“What will he do when he becomes king?”
That was easier. “Whatever it is will be a disaster.”
“The Bavarian war really was his idea, then?”
“Before my time,” Darina said. “I haven’t been here quite two years yet, but that’s what I was told: he talked his grandfather into it. The old man was senile already, but he could still speak then, after a fashion. It was Cabbage Head’s war, though.”
Wulf’s worst fears were confirmed. He knew now what he was going to have to do, and the wraiths of a dozen generations of Magnuses moaned in the shadows.
“I am very grateful for your help,” he said. “I hope I can return the favor sometime. Meanwhile, I don’t know my way around the palace yet. Could you put me where I could get in to see Cardinal Zdenek?”
Darina cocked an eyebrow at him. “If he feels like it, he’ll make you wait a week.”
“I haven’t got a week.” Less than an hour.
Knuckles tapped on the door.
“That’s my maid,” she said, “to help me get ready for a gentleman visitor. I’ll show you Zdenek’s exit door. Petitioners go in through the anteroom and out this way. The moment he’s alone, barge in, if you have the courage.”
It wasn’t hard to smile at such a lovely face. “No courage, just desperation. Thank you for your help.”
The marquessa opened a gate for him.
CHAPTER 37
Wulf found himself standing on a small landing at the top of a long staircase. A single door presumably led into the cardinal’s office. No, there was no handle on this side, so it only led out. There was nowhereƀ, to sit except the steps themselves, but the window offered a fine view over the rooftops of the capital—where he had once spent three weeks, about a hundred years ago.
He had a problem, the sort of problem workadays had all the time but a Speaker should be able to overcome. He needed to know what Zdenek was doing, but could not Look through his eyes because he had never met him. A couple of hours ago he would have been baffled, but now he tried what d’Estouteville had suggested: he simply wished that he could see through that particular door. The massive enameled and gilded oak became like smoky glass for him.
The Scarlet Spider was seated on a chair as grand as a throne, scowling down at a pudgy, rubicund man of middle years, seriously overdressed, like a burgomaster anxious to display his wealth. He had been left on his knees to plead his case, which could not be doing his fancy silken hose much good. His complaints about too much tax being collected in his city seemed to be falling on deaf ears.
Wulf leaned back against the wall and thought about tweaking. When he had first learned of it, he had been disgusted. It was forbidden by the second commandment, but its use must be impossible to prove unless another Speaker was present to witness it happening. Wulf had seen Marek tweak a guard and Alojz Zauber tweak the bishops, and in each case there had been a flash visible to other Speakers. Even if he were to tweak some workaday when there was no other Speaker present, he could never be certain that one was not Looking from afar. Yet now it seemed that duty, personal survival, and his hopes of marrying Madlenka were all going to require him to use tweaking. Father Czcibor had taught him that the devil could always show people how to j
ustify their sins.
Wulf had not been joking when he told Otto he was between the clashing rocks. Both cardinals employed Speakers to defend themselves against tweaking, so he could not manipulate either of them that way. But unless he could change Zdenek’s mind about the Louis-Laima betrothal, d’Estouteville would let Brother Luigi have him. Which brought him back to the Inquisition and a full realization of how terrified he was. Terror was the inquisitors’ business. Whole families could vanish into the darkness. Acquittal in the secret trials was almost unknown, and anyone who did emerge into daylight again was scarred, impoverished, and universally shunned.
Dark as a thundercloud, and escorted by a Franciscan friar with a nimbus, the burgomaster came stumping over to the door. Wulf caught it as it swung open. The fat man jumped in alarm, but Wulf just smiled and begged his pardon. Then he stepped into Zdenek’s office.
The friar spun around in a swirl of robe and his nimbus flamed bright. Wulf ran into a perfectly transparent wall that felt hard as steel. He thought, I wish this wasn’t here, and the wall disappeared. The friar was tall, with reddish hair and an eye patch. He was quite young, but when Wulf made no offensive move, he did not retaliate; just stood there, watching him warily.
“Wulfgang Magnus, Your Eminence. You want to see me, I understand?”
The old man glared. Red patches flamed above his beard and he bared yellow teeth in anger. “Go and giveˀC;Go and your name to the chancellor! You cannot barge in on me unannounced.”
“I already did.” Wulf stepped around the friar and walked over to the throne. He knelt. “I have urgent business that I must attend to or I will be delivered to the Inquisition.” He waited for the ring to be offered.
“An excellent idea. What do you want?”
“It is more a matter of what you want, Your Eminence.” Seeing that he would not be offered the ring, Wulf stood up. A workaday guilty of such disrespect would be heading for the dungeons already, but one furious cardinal was a benevolent and almost pathetic old man compared with the overweening nightmare of the Inquisition. “You told my cadger you wished to speak with me in person.”
“Cadger?” Zdenek snorted. “That chit of a girl? I’ll give you two minutes, no more, and even that was only because of what you accomplished yesterday. That was impressive, I admit, although you were undoubtedly aided by the hand of the Lord, may His name be praised. All I have in mind is this. It is no secret that our beloved monarch must soon pass to his reward, and Crown Prince Konrad will accede to the throne of his ancestors. A king needs protection, and the Speaker who currently looks after his safety leaves much to be desired. His Highness is anxious to replace her. Having proved your loyalty and skill, you would be the natural successor. You would be well rewarded with income and a suitable title.”
He smiled mockingly. “But the idea of a falcon here in Mauvnik being flown by a juvenile cadger ten days’ journey away in Cardice is ludicrous. I would insist that she transfer your jessing to me.”
Rubbish! Cardice was a mere blink away for a Speaker. Moreover, a cadger of Zdenek’s age was liable to drop dead without warning, and then he would take his falcon’s talents with him.
Zdenek was just confirming the suspicion that Wulf had shared with d’Estouteville and with Otto, that he was up to no good. Marquessa Darina had hinted that she was not permitted to defend Cabbage Head against soft-footed gentlemen with stilettos. Even Speaker bodyguards were useless if their cadgers were in league with the assassins. Crown Prince Konrad was not among the Wise, and unlikely ever to be admitted.
To throw all this back in the old man’s face would be pointless. Wulf said, “The first Baron Magnus helped put the House of Jorgar on the throne, and his descendants have served it faithfully for centuries. At least two have served as royal bodyguards, and I can imagine no greater honor. However, I currently have certain problems involving the Inquisition, Your Eminence.”
The cardinal waved a hand as if to banish a mosquito. “I shall have a word with Archbishop Svaty.”
“Unfortunately, that will not suffice. Whatever his decision, he can be overruled by the Vatican. I have been ordered to return to Cardinal d’Estouteville by tomorrow evening with a contract of betrothal between Princess Laima and his nephew, Louˀs nephewis of Rouen. In return, I will be provided with a papal decree declaring my innocence in the relevant matters.”
Give him his due, the tough old rascal barely swayed. “Then I can offer only my deepest sympathy, Wulfgang.” He held out his ring as a sign of dismissal.
Wulf ignored it. “You haven’t told me what you want, Your Eminence, not what—you—really—want.”
The cardinal’s eyes narrowed. Regarding his visitor steadily, and probably taking him a little more seriously than before, he withdrew his hand and entwined it with the other on his lap. “And what do you think I want, young man?”
Now for it: Ready, Aim, Fire!
Wulf said, “I think you have served this land of ours since before I was born, with all your heart, loyally and diligently, winter and summer, day and night. Its caring governance has been your lifework. I think you cannot bear the thought of seeing it being ridden over a cliff by a lazy, incompetent, dimwit, drunken rakehell.”
That might be slandering the crown prince, but was probably a good description of what Zdenek thought of him.
The low sun flashed red on the cardinal’s eyeglasses. “Such talk is seditious, squire.”
“Then we shall not repeat it. As a true patriot, loyal to the House of Jorgar, I would dearly love to see you continue to handle its affairs while you train your new young master—and your own successor, whoever he may be.”
Zdenek sneered. “You, perhaps?”
“Heavens, no! I am warrior-bred. I can’t count above ten. You could find a thousand older men better suited than I. But I could make a good bodyguard, whether official or unofficial.”
Silence. The old man glanced over at his Franciscan guardian, as if judging his reaction. Wulf Looked through the cardinal’s eyes and saw the friar nod. Confirming that what was being hinted at was possible? Or that Wulf was sincere?
“Tweaking?” the cardinal murmured. “They call that tweaking, I believe, and even the Speakers condemn it as a sin against the Lord’s will.”
“Call it counseling,” Wulf murmured back. “Talent must be used for good.”
“As I recall, unwelcome tweaking fades rapidly and must be renewed every few days.”
“By someone close to the subject.”
Then the mood broke. The old man leaned back and laughed. “A fiendish suggestion! I could never trust you to keep your woˀ keep yord.”
“Yes, you could,” Wulf said irritably. “When I wait upon the Eminent Cardinal d’Estouteville tomorrow to deliver the marriage contract, I will receive from him the document that absolves me from the taint of witchcraft and certain other allegations. Your secretary must accompany me to oversee any final details, Your Eminence.”
This time the pause was longer. Wulf could almost imagine the cardinal’s mind turning like a millstone as he ground out the risks of trusting this juvenile sorcerer’s good faith and compared them with the horrors of murdering or even just deposing his sovereign lord. Wulf had no doubt now that this was what the old devil was planning, but surely he must see it as a last resort, after a lifetime of faithful service? The English deposed kings all the time, but other nations regarded them as sacrosanct, anointed by God.
Zdenek nodded thoughtfully. “You met His Highness last night.” The unasked question was whether Wulf could possibly endure the thought of serving the dolt.
“I did have that honor. In fact, His Highness and I made a wager. I am due to meet him very shortly to demonstrate my horsemanship.”
The Spider was openly startled. He whispered, “Saints preserve us! I heard about that nonsense. You were serious?”
“Of course I was serious!” He was now, anyway. Whatever would Madlenka say if she knew?
“Nobody be
lieved you. I doubt very much that Crown Prince Konrad will turn up for your rendezvous. Even he remembers his dignity sometimes.”
“Let us hope he at least sends a trusted witness,” Wulf said, trying to hide how much that suggestion dismayed him. If his bragging had been dismissed as mere insolence and nobody came to watch, then his chances of winning the prince’s trust would drop to much less than zero, tweaking or no tweaking.
The Scarlet Spider was regarding him with much more interest now. “What do you hope to win?”
“Just His Highness’s favor. He is an equestrian of note himself, I understand.”
For the first time, the old man smiled. “Yes, he is. That much we all concede. Well, maybe he will be fool enough to show. Tomorrow you said?”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
“I shall attend Mass in the morning, of course, but I expect to be here after dinner. If you have some progress to show me by then, you may come and do so.”
Wulf sank to his knees.
Zdenek extended his skeleton hand. “His Highness must at least accept your service, though that alone will not persuade me.ȁˀade me.&D;
“Of course not, Eminence.” As Wulf kissed the ring, he slid a small wad of paper into the old man’s fingers. The cardinal’s complete lack of visible reaction suggested that people passed him secret notes that way all the time.
CHAPTER 38
A horse, a horse.…
Wulf went to an empty stall in the Castle Gallant stable. He had never jumped Copper, so the horse he needed was Anton’s Morningstar. Morningstar had cleared the lethal brook at Chestnut Hill for Anton and would remember it. As usual the stable was dim, warm, and musty, full of the inevitable munching sounds and gentle clink of iron on flagstones, but there was a strange lack of voices. A quick look around confirmed that there were no people present, which was a surprise, but a welcome one. Wulf located Morningstar, who knew his voice and was pleased by the prospect of exercise. He made no complaint at being saddled.