by Dave Duncan
Anton’s face was redder than the cardinal’s robes. “But I am exceedingly grateful to Your Eminence, and I know of no reason whatever for Your Eminence to accuse me otherwise. It is true that Lady Madlenka has indicated that she loves my-”
“Loves! Loves? Romantic childish rubbish! Take a switch to her backside and teach her where her loyalty lies. Three or four good beatings will soon change her heart. Let me hear no idle jabber of love.”
Otto, who had the great good fortune to be married to a woman of both spirit and intelligence, reflected sadly that Zdenek’s views would be those of most men, including Bishop Ugne. Yet for centuries the noblemen of Europe had made a habit of riding away on crusades and leaving their lands and families in the care of their wives, and the wives had done just as good a job of running them as their menfolk would have done. Otto himself had no fears for Dobkov’s management while it was in Branka’s hands. Women might know otherwise, but most men still thought that only they could make wise decisions.
The butcher’s son had not done. “And if not gratitude, why not a little loyalty, eh? Why are you consorting with traitors, tell me that!”
Anton’s flush of fury faded abruptly to pallor. “Traitors? I am a loyal servant of King Konrad and know nothing of traitors, Your Eminence.”
“What about Hedwig Schlutz? She likes to be styled Marquessa Darina, but she is no more a marquessa than you are. Even less. You expect me to believe that you are ignorant of the current politics of Jorgary? You must know how things stand between the crown prince and his grandfather.”
Otto resisted a strong temptation to purse his lips or even whistle, but Anton needed no prompting to find the correct riposte.
“Your Eminence is accusing Crown Prince Konrad of treason? I was certainly not aware that matters had descended to that level. Furthermore,” he said quickly, “the woman I knew only as Marquessa Darina is obviously a Speaker, because she materialized in our presence uninvited and without coming through the door. To defy a Speaker would be rank insanity. She informed our brother that the crown prince wished to thank him for defeating the Wend army-news she could have only learned by supernatural means-and she led him away. Wulfgang is guilty only of courtesy to a presumed lady, Your Eminence. That hardly calls for accusations of treason!”
“Brother Daniel?” the cardinal snapped. “Where is Wulfgang Magnus at the moment?” Either he was a very good guesser or the friar had given him a signal.
“He is just approaching the king’s quarters, Eminence.”
The long yellow teeth appeared again. “For what purpose, I wonder?”
Anton’s face shone wetly and his mustache was wilting. Otto decided to carry the load for a while.
“Your Eminence, for more than three centuries our family has never wavered in its loyalty to the House of Jorgar. I am confident that His Majesty has no more faithful subject than our brother Wulfgang. He has today performed legendary service and does not deserve your slurs upon his honor. May I suggest that he is being taken to meet the king because His Majesty has expressed a wish to thank him in person?”
Of course he hadn’t. They all knew that the king had been at death’s door for weeks.
Zdenek paused for a moment to appraise this new opponent. The old villain must know that Otto would be a tougher foe, for he was almost twice Anton’s age, with many more years of experience, and he was not the cardinal’s own creation, as Anton was.
“We do not trouble His Majesty with business at this time of night. His convalescence requires extensive bed rest.”
Just by raising an eyebrow, Otto said: Even to bring him the glad news of the greatest victory in the history of Jorgary? It is true that he is in his final coma, then?
The Spider heard every syllable of that silent look. “His Majesty’s health,” he said bitingly, “is cause for concern, but he still attends to business. That said, he trusts me to handle all but the most vital affairs for him. No regency has been appointed and we have no expectation of one.” The heir apparent is still only the heir apparent.
“This is glad news, Your Eminence. We pray daily for His Majesty’s speedy recovery and long life.” We’re still on your side.
“And recent events at Cardice will not be discussed in Mauvnik until the count’s official report arrives.”
Otto now saw Zdenek as a frightened, almost pathetic, old man. His power, his great wealth, even his life’s work-all were in jeopardy and likely to vanish the moment the king stopped breathing. His cardinal’s hat might save him from the headsman’s ax, but he could hardly hope for a lesser penalty than lifetime exile. He would fight viciously, giving no quarter, a boar at bay. Perhaps he had seen a secret weapon in Wulf, a new and powerful weapon, whereas Wulf in the prince’s hands would be disaster.
“You Magnuses show your loyalty in strange ways, Baron. Consorting with foreign-based, illegal, secret, Satanic cults like the so-called Saints, for example.”
Experienced warrior that he was, Otto wheeled his front to repulse this attack from the flank. “Your Eminence, none of us had heard of these Saints people until an hole ienced wur ago. The woman Justina represented to us that she had been sent by you to aid Wulfgang. Was this a lie?”
The cardinal leaned back on his throne as if his back was aching and regarded his guests with distaste. “You are fools, both of you. The Church is attracted to Satanism like flies to rotting meat. The Inquisition especially loves rich victims, because when a man is charged with heresy, his property is automatically confiscated. It will be returned only when he is cleared of all charges against him.”
Which would be never, of course. Anton turned a look of horror on Otto, who had a brief vision of Branka and the children being driven out of Dobkov into winter snows.
“Oh, yes,” Zdenek said wearily. “You are in danger, both of you, not just your Satanist baby brother. Does the future hold a candlelight party, with Magnuses as the candles?”
“What do you recommend we do, Your Eminence?” Otto inquired.
The spanking was over and the bargaining had begun.
“What is the Magnus boy at now, Brother Daniel?”
“He did not enter the royal bedchamber,” the friar said softly. “He was apparently returning to the marquessa’s quarters, but they have stopped to speak with His Highness.”
The butcher’s son pulled a face. “Listen to what is said. My lords, I am not without influence with the Church. The boy is three years short of his majority, so one or other of you two must be his legal guardian. If you have any sense, you will explain to him that the fate of your entire family may rest upon his loyalty to the throne. See that he pledges his loyalty to me, His Majesty’s first minister, and not to that evil coven of witches. Then I may be able to persuade Archbishop Svaty that his powers are now safely under control, and by destroying the Wend heretics he has served the Church as well as the kingdom. Do I have your words of honor on that, my lords?”
Now would not be a good time to inquire about the one-third share of Wulf that Zdenek had promised to the coven of witches, according to Brother Daniel’s comments earlier. Nor to men tion the late Fathers Azuolas and Vilhelmas.
Anton left the response to Otto, who said, “You have our word, Your Eminence, that we shall do all in our power to persuade our brother to comply with your wishes, in the certain knowledge that they are also His Majesty’s wishes.”
Wulf was a Speaker. How did you rule Speakers? Moreover, ever since early childhood, Wulf had made mules seem biddable as sheepdogs. Even Father had rarely managed to bully him into doing anything he did not want to do. Now, with love in his heart and a spectacular military victory under his belt, he would certainly go his own way, quietly, politely, and implacably.
The butcher’s son held out his ring to be kissed. “You have my leave, my lords. Brotmy heiher Daniel will see you back to Castle Gallant.”
CHAPTER 26
The solar was an untidy mess, littered with empty wine bottles and remains of sn
acks, but Justina had long since learned to ignore surroundings. Settled in the most comfortable chair, she was happy enough, keeping one eye on what Wulf was doing with the Darina slut and Zdenek with the count and baron. Once in a while she would spare a glance for Umbral and Sixtus IV, but more than two conversations were hard to follow.
Suddenly Wulf was there, peering around in the candlelight and looking almost asleep on his feet. “What happened to Joan of Arc?”
She did not even blink at this curious query. “She was condemned to death for heresy by a panel of French bishops and the English burned her. Sit down.”
“No,” he said. “How? Why could she save France and not herself? How could she defeat armies and not escape from a jail?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Make it short!” he roared. “I haven’t got time for more of your stupid games. Tell me!” Menace normally meant nothing to Speakers, but he was a killer and as powerful as any.
Justina folded her hands calmly. He was wearing the Magnus dagger, so she addressed her remarks to that, not wanting to strain her neck. Otto must have bestowed it on him. Well earned, of course.
“Speakers must be controlled. Even Speakers agree on that. Our talent is too dangerous otherwise, as you have demonstrated. You have a hair-trigger temper and kill men on impulse. So we submit to jessing. Each of us has sworn an oath to a workaday, our cadger, never to use our talent without our cadger’s permission. That’s all, quite simple. I am jessed by Lady Umbral, head of our order. That Darina slut was jessed by a man in Italy, who has contracted out her services to Cardinal Zdenek. Both she and her cadger belong to the Saints.”
Wulf scowled and blinked some more. “What’s to keep you from breaking such an oath?”
“Don’t you remember how I warned you to be careful of curses or blessings or oaths? I bound myself with my own talent, so I cannot break my oath without my cadger’s prior approval. My cadger can transfer my loyalty to another, but only with my approval.”
“Then it’s voluntary slavery?”
“No, it’s a partnership. Your cadger cannot give you orders, only permission. You can refuse. Two heads are better than one, you see.”
Wulf nodded, looking either stupid or stupefied.
“Iiem" do wish you would sit down, nephew. I will be seeing Lady Umbral in another hour or so. She will be happy to admit you to the Saints and even jess you herself, which is a great honor. There are several hundred of us, scattered all over Europe, plus maybe a few score cadgers and some dozen branchers in training. We can teach you what you still need to learn. I hope we can also defend you from the Church’s wrath.”
The way the Sixtus interview was going, that hope was becoming fainter by the minute.
Wulf abruptly sat down and leaned his arms on his knees to shout at her. “What happened to Joan of Arc?”
Justina sighed. “She was a haggard, like you; a Speaker without training. She went to see the dauphin. He had a panel of clerics examine her…”
“I know all that! Later, why couldn’t she escape from the English jail? How could they burn her when she could defeat their armies?”
“Because she didn’t have her cadger’s permission to escape.”
Wulf sighed as if a shutter had just opened in a darkened room. “The dauphin!”
She nodded. “She swore fealty to the dauphin, but neither he nor Joan knew about Speaking. The clerics of his court did, and they made sure that her oath of loyalty was so worded that it jessed her-they did not want a juvenile female Speaker manipulating the future king of France and ruling over their heads. So they deliberately did not instruct the dauphin in the proper precautions. He told Joan to go and lead his armies to victory, nothing more.”
“You mean she was not allowed to save herself when she was in danger?” Wulf’s face twisted in revulsion. “Swine!”
Justina said, “Quite. But the Saints know how it is done, and we protect our own. The Church does not burn us.”
Then honesty compelled her to add, “Or very rarely. I know of a couple of cases where falcons and their cadgers became extremely corrupt and we turned them over to the Church for justice. They deserved it, believe me. The system isn’t perfect, but it is the best we have. Even popes have been known to use Speakers for dark purposes.”
“Next question, then. Why wouldn’t you answer my questions this morning?”
“I am answering them now,” she said. “I had to find out how well you had your talent under control, where you rated on the manhood scale, and a few other things.”
“And you concluded?”
“You have nerves of steel and balls to match. In the five generations I have seen, the family has produced no finer Magnus. I am proud to be related to you.”
He blinked. “Then tell me all the other things you held back.”
Justina sighed. “If I told you the moon was blue, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“If you saw it blue, would you believe?”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled at that, which would have been a mistake. Most people would hesitate, suspecting a trap, or waffle about asking for another opinion. Wulf never had doubts.
“You had no handler. Comfort and counsel are what handlers are for. Talent grows in of its own accord and at its own pace, like adult teeth or body hair. We can do little more than advise and reassure. You were taught that the strange powers you were starting to develop were the work of the devil, and you dared not tell people about them. You suppressed them. You invented those Voices.”
“I heard them, I tell you! St. Helen and St. Victorinus.”
She shook her head. “You imagined them. Did they ever tell you anything you didn’t pretty much know already, or could guess? Or that your talent wouldn’t reveal to you? Like the pain you felt when you started experimenting in earnest. That came from guilt and fear of hellfire. Once you gained confidence, the pain disappeared.”
Wulf pouted disbelievingly and straightened up as if his body weighed tons. “What are the words of the jessing oath?”
“Lady Umbral and I will lead you through them.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “Then answer me the most important question of all-where do our powers come from? From God or Satan?”
“You are not ready to know that yet.”
Wulf stood up and stepped back into nothingness.
He had vanished, gone nowhere, stayed in limbo. Queen of Heaven, why hadn’t she warned him about limbo?
CHAPTER 27
Vlad was not the first man of his troop to return to the castle. Having some misgivings about his current mount’s footing, he left the bearer-of-glad-tidings role to a couple of the youngsters, and fortunately neither of them slid over the edge in their race down the road. By the time he reached the gate, a welcome party had assembled to cheer the returning heroes. In fact, none of them had done a piddling thing, but he couldn’t give the credit where it was due, and that angered him.
His w;
“Ring your bells, my lord bishop!” he bellowed in his loudest battlefield voice. “The Lord has smitten the heretics as he smote the Midianites. God’s wrath fell on them as an avalanche, burying hundreds or thousands of them and closing the pass. Gallant is saved and the Wends are crushed. Ring your damned beg-your-pardon bells!”
Then he stomped back out again, while the bishop was still belaboring heaven with his thanks.
Back at the castle, Vlad stripped off his armor, established that His Babyship the count was believed to be in the solar, and ordered some food to be sent there. It was now Saturday, he decreed, since the sun had set, meaning red meat and none of that salt fish sewage.
The rumors had preceded him, so everyone he met wanted to confirm them, and a celebratory riot was already under way in the castle. It did not extend into the solar. Otto and Anton were slumped in chairs, scowling ferociously and clutching wine bottles with the air of men determined to get drunk as fast as possible. The
only other person present was a woman he did not know.
“Wulf get back?” he demanded anxiously.
Anton said, “Yes. Hear we won.” And took another drink.
Vlad found this morbidity decidedly eerie. He started with the stranger, putting fists on hips and giving her his best bearded-monster glare. “I am Vladislav Magnus.”
She held wine, also, but in a glass. She nodded. “The last time I saw you, you were a lot less hairy and about one-third the height. I’m your Great-aunt Kristina.”
“And a sor… I mean Speaker?” She must be about a hundred years old!
“Of course. My working name is Justina.”
He choked back a couple of military expressions and went down on one knee to kiss her hand, the one without the glass. “And since these two drunks are apparently past talking, will you tell me what the problem is?”
“ Their problem,” she said, “is that Cardinal Zdenek called them in and left them on their knees while he gave them a thorough chiding. Their dignity is sorely hurt.”
“Called them in-to Mauvnik? Tonight? Sata… Speaking?”
She nodded again. “In all my days, I have never seen talent being splattered around as wildly as it is here in Castle Gallant just now. If the Inquisition decides to take notice, it will have a feast day.”
Otto spoke for the first time. “It wasn’t just our dignity. Zdenek is threatening to turn both of us over to the Church unless we give him Wulfgang.”
“Give him Wulfgang,” Vlad echoed, but the words still made no sense. He stood up.
“Speakers,” his aunt said, “are required to be bound-we call it ‘jessed’-by a workaday, a non-Speaker. It makes us a little easier to live with and better behaved. The cardinal feels that he needs and deserves a falcon on his wrist, although he already has several he can call on.”