Impossible Odds

by Dave Duncan

  “Tomorrow, then,” he said airily. “Leaving at dawn, we shall ride to Vamky and spend the night there before attempting the pass. We may not be able to risk a crossing if the weather sours, but the courier had no trouble.”

  “I look forward to it greatly. Will Lord Volpe be accompanying us?”

  Rubin smirked wet, painted lips. “If he behaves himself. Till then, my love.” And off he went.

  Frederik peered around her to see if it was safe to appear.

  Well! This was the most interesting day his mother had known since he was born. She left him with Ruxandra. She solved the attendants problem by ignoring it and taking only her senior maid, Arghira, who was a country girl like herself and knew horses outside and in. The rest of the day and half the night flew by in frantic preparations. Johanna felt she had hardly slept before she found herself riding out the palace gate at her husband’s side.

  • 4 •

  The day was blustery and sunny. City folk cleared the streets ahead of them, men uncovering and bowing, women curtsying. Rubin chose to cross the river and go by the west road, setting an easy pace. There were two women and thirty men in the procession, for no grand duke ever traveled without heralds, servants, and troopers of the Palace Guard. Most of the time he rode in silence, thinking unknown thoughts, but from time to time he would rouse himself to make conversation, and then he could be charming company. They discussed the countryside, lambs frolicking, peasants ploughing and sowing. He was knowledgeable about agriculture, his main tax base.

  Rubin was never deliberately cruel to his wife, he just could not relate to someone so much younger and lower on the social ladder. They shared no friends, no background, no interests. He was usually generous when she asked for something, but the aristocracy’s rejection of a commoner duchess meant that he never took her to balls or banquets, and she suspected he was glad of an excuse to stay away from them. His only real interest was his obsessive pursuit of young girls, and that wooing was done by bribing or bullying their parents. Johanna had always been careful not to protest his infidelities, because they obviously mattered to him more than anything else did.

  Now he had found something he could share with her, a state visit to Trenko. He had no qualms that she might be rejected there also, he said. That would cause a serious diplomatic incident. She did not ask what sort of incident he might create by taking a lowborn wife to a state funeral.

  “Will you instruct me about Trenko, Your Grace?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “About the same size as Krupina, but a recent creation compared to our long history. We have little in common—different language, different crops, different climate. The two states have been united under one ruler a few times, but never for long. We do better going our separate ways, cooperating to keep the pass open for trade and closed to armies.”

  Gradually the hills crept in on either hand, bringing vineyards, then pasture, and eventually forest. Late in the day they passed by Fadrenschloss. Johanna did not comment, but she knew its tower was visible from a few places on the highway, and she was waiting to blow it a mental kiss. Happy memories!

  Her husband noticed it also. “Do you correspond with von Fader?”

  “We exchange letters once in a while, sire.”

  “You haven’t seen him since your wedding day?”

  “The morning of the day after.”

  “Of course.” The Duke smiled as if he, too, enjoyed happy memories. “We cannot delay now, but if you would care to visit him on our way back, I would have no objection.”

  Do mares eat oats?

  They crossed the Asch on Olden Bridge, built by the Empire long ago, and from it saw the looming mass of Vamky to the north, set against a backdrop of snowy peaks. Pilgrim Pass was one of the great trade routes of eastern Eurania, and nobody crossed it without passing under those sinister towers.

  Very soon the west road joined the east road and began climbing steadily through forest, parting company with the Asch, which grumbled to itself in a deep canyon. After an hour or so, the road emerged from the trees and angled steeply up a treeless slope. The monastery beetled on cliffs above. Johanna had never realized how colossal it was—dark stone walls, minatory battlements, and towers with pointed roofs clad in lead, a gloomy complex outstretched along the crest of a ridge that almost blocked the valley.

  “You do know,” Rubin said abruptly, “that the brothers are forbidden to speak to women?”

  “I do, sire.”

  “You and your maid will be welcome guests, and you may ask for any comfort you require that is not already provided, but you will be answered only with gestures or, in extreme cases, with a written note.”

  “I understand.”

  “Abbot Minhea will make you welcome, of course.” The Grand Duke smirked. “And so will the Provost, we shall see.”

  Emboldened by her newfound freedom, Johanna said, “Lord Volpe did stop and speak a few words to me yesterday, sire.”

  “Ah, good. When word of Ion’s death arrived at Vamky, my uncle rode posthaste to Krupa to tell me and offer to represent me at the funeral. He seemed curiously eager to visit Trenko, suspiciously eager, in fact. I told him I would go myself, but he could accompany us provided he treated you with the respect your rank requires.”

  “I am grateful, sire!”

  “You have been very patient, my dear,” Rubin murmured. “But I must move to secure recognition of my heir, and that means that his mother must be recognized as my consort. Once I bring Volpe to heel, the rest of the fools will knuckle under.”

  She wondered if she had passed some sort of test, perhaps an endurance test. She had not jumped out a window, so he was going to make the best of the situation. No doubt she ought to feel ungrateful for thinking so, but she didn’t. All she felt was resentment that she had not been given her due long since.

  Weary horses brought them to the crest of the ridge, a stony plain with breathtaking views of mountains ahead and Krupina behind. North, south, and west, the ground plunged steeply. To the east stood a great barbican, with the rest of the monastery behind it, rising gently to where the ridge merged with a spur of mountain. An honor guard of mounted knights in plate mail flanked the road to the gate, their lances grounded and vertical, as regular as the teeth of a comb. Johanna could not imagine how they endured the shrieking, freezing wind. To keep horses facing into that must require incredible training and skill, but neither man nor beast moved a muscle as the visitors rode slowly along between the two lines. Why didn’t their armor rattle?

  She was stiff and sore from unaccustomed hours in the saddle. In the great and gloomy bailey she slid with relief onto a mounting block, and Rubin himself handed her down. They proceeded together over to the welcome party, where eight sword-bearing brethren waited, all wearing white robes with cowls and the blue Vamky V. The wind whipped their skirts around so hard that once in a while a man would stagger slightly; otherwise she might have thought them scarecrows stuffed with straw. Six stood with their heads bent and faces hidden, hands in sleeves. Two had their hoods back and dared to look the guests in the eye. One, of course, was granite-faced Volpe. Yes, he did shave his entire head. It was smooth as a building stone except for two patches of black moss, the bushy brows above the staring eyes.

  The other man was Abbot Minhea, older and shorter. The stubbly white fringe around his tonsure was white, the face below it smooth, unweathered, and utterly bland. His bows were slight, his smiles barely skin deep, his words almost inaudible in the gale. “Your Highness does us honor. Vamky is yours to command. And your dear lady is also most welcome.”

  “We thank you, my lord Abbot,” Rubin retorted.

  Then it was Volpe’s turn. “Welcome, dear Nephew.” His bow was respectful and respectable. “And Your Royal Highness, also.” He bowed low to Johanna, and when he straightened up he even gave her a small, ironic smile, as if conceding defeat.

  Triumph! She curtsied, slightly.

  The rest of the welcoming commi
ttee were not introduced. By that time scores of white-robed brethren had appeared to assist both visitors and honor guard dismount—and Johanna realized that helping an armored knight safely down off an armored horse must be no mean task. Rubin’s heralds cut the valets and servants out of the confusion and shepherded them over to him, Arghira included. The guests were led off to their quarters by anonymous, white-robed guides.

  The way was long, climbing by gentle ramps up the slope of the ridge, rarely going straight for long. The arched corridors were cold and dim, and the curve of the ceilings was reflected in the tops of all the windows and doorways, giving an odd effect of tunnels. High as the monastery itself was, and high as they seemed to have climbed within it, Johanna could neither stop the tremble of her hands nor relax the knot of terror in her belly. This was like being underground, and all her life she had been terrified of that.

  Her guide brought her eventually to a large room with a barrel ceiling and shuttered windows. The plaster on the stonework was whitewashed, the plank floor covered with straw, the furniture starkly plain. Although the bed was large enough for two, its mattress was thin and lumpy. To offset those discomforts, a huge log fire blazed in a massive fireplace, making even that sparse chamber warm and cosy, and a big copper jug on the hob offered copious hot water. She hurried across to open a shutter, just to convince herself that she was high on a mountain, not down in a crypt. The air struck at her like an ax of ice, but she filled her lungs with the cold, sweet stuff.

  Arghira was impressed, but worried by the solitary bed. “Do I share with you, my lady?”

  “I doubt it,” Johanna said. Rubin might have had more than one reason for bringing her along, but she could guess the main one. Besides, her two hooded guides were waiting just outside the open door, gazing patiently at the floor. “Where will my attendant sleep?” she asked.

  The taller brother stepped across the corridor to a smaller chamber, with a smaller fire. It would do. He opened another door to reveal a garderobe. More brethren arrived with luggage, which they set down and stared at, waiting to be told which were Johanna’s. These faceless puppets were starting to make her skin crawl.

  Once she had freshened up and changed and sent Arghira off to do the same, she found herself at a loss. She missed Frederik, for she had never been apart from him before. Deciding to test the system, she opened the door. A hooded swordsman stood on either side of it—guardians or jailers?

  “I wish to write a letter,” she announced. “I need paper, ink, pens.”

  The shorter one bowed to the opposite wall and made a gesture. The other bowed also, then strode off along the corridor. Ten or fifteen minutes later, something thumped hard against the door. Johanna, opening it, was handed a tray bearing paper, quills, knife, inkwell, sand shaker, and even a stick of wax. She penned a note to the Baron, telling him where she was and that she hoped to visit Fadrenschloss in a few days, on her return from Trenko. No light was showing through the shutters when she finished, so the message could not go until morning. Nevertheless, she sealed it, addressed it, and went back out to the corridor to ask that it be delivered as soon as that was possible. The brother who took it had age-spotted hands. The one who had brought her the paper had had the hands of a boy.

  Soon after that who should walk in but the Grand Duke himself, shaved, changed, and beaming happily.

  “Everything satisfactory, my dove?” He peered around.

  “The brethren have made me feel most welcome, sire.”

  He nodded, looking around. “Good, good! I will dine in the hall. It would be more seemly if you ate here.”

  “I shall be happy to do so.”

  He nodded. “Till later, then?” And off he went. He always warned her when he planned to come visiting. It happened rarely, only when he was between mistresses or his current favorite was indisposed, but clearly tonight was one of the times his wife would have to do, old though she was. She was sore after the long ride, but would make him welcome. He was always tender—spirits knew he was well practiced!—and tonight she thought he had earned his reward.

  The following morning Johanna’s breakfast was handed in on a tray, along with a reply from the Baron, promising she would be welcome. There was no moon so early in the month, so someone had ridden all the way to Fadrenschloss and back in pitch darkness.

  The travelers departed soon after dawn, fighting an icy wind. The Palace Guard was left behind at Vamky, replaced by Provost Volpe and a score of the brethren, wearing sensible leather and fur garments, armed only with swords. The path descended almost as steeply on the north side of the ridge as it had risen on the south, rejoining the Asch as a much smaller stream of milky water babbling through forest. Gradually the land rose again. Trees dwindled and disappeared. At the crest of the long climb the way ahead was a V of blue sky between great peaks draped with glaciers, the Pilgrim Pass.

  The stony plain still bore winter snows, and in places the road narrowed to a single file through a maze of boulders. When the riders doubled up again, they often exchanged partners, and eventually Johanna found herself alongside Karl.

  “How brightly the glaciers reflect your glory, Oh Pearl of the Mountains.”

  “I didn’t know you were with us, my lord.”

  He was so wrapped up against the wind that his customary sneer was barely visible. “Now is your joy transcendent.”

  “Now is my trip ruined.” His father had acknowledged her. Her husband was including her in a state visit. She was a real Grand Duchess at last and need not endure this wastrel’s mockery.

  “Nay, you should savor every moment, Fairest One. When you return to Krupina you will be back to wiping dishes and scrubbing floors!”

  Was he hinting that Volpe would revert to form once he had achieved his purpose in Trenko, whatever it was? She did not reply.

  “Let me take you away from your scullery duties, Beloved! Fly with me to farthest Skyrria and let your beauty outshine the fabled jewels of Orient.”

  “If you won’t talk sense, go and bore somebody else.”

  “Ow, it scratches! You expect me to be serious?”

  “Yes. Tell me about your mother. All I know is that her name was Tatjana. She died when you were young?”

  “If she ever existed.”

  Johanna rode on in silence. He tried a few more stupid remarks and she did not respond.

  “Oh, very well! But it is a waste of a fine morning. My father wasn’t provost then. He was heir presumptive, but unmarried and sworn to remain so, and Rubin wasn’t capable of staying married long enough to breed a legitimate son. But Krupina needed another heir. So it got me.”

  “How?”

  “The usual way, I expect.”

  She rode on in silence and when he spoke again his voice held a snappishness so unlike his usual flippancy that what he said was probably genuine. “Vamky knights do as they are told. There was a nice war brewing and the King of Drasia needed help badly. He had a widowed sister, Princess Tatjana, who was too old to make a decent royal match but not too old to pop one royal brat with the proper assistance. Volpe was ordered to marry her, breed me, and win the war. He did all those things with dispatch. Then he came home and brought me with him. Aren’t you sorry you asked?”

  “Ordered by whom?”

  “I don’t know. Ask him.” Karl put his horse into a narrow gap between toothy boulders.

  Johanna followed, deciding that for once she believed her scoundrelly cousin-in-law, mostly because the horror of the story explained why she had never heard the details before. If he had been reared by servants in the inhuman warren of the Agathon Palace, his bitterness was understandable.

  He was waiting for her where the trail widened.

  “I can understand the first part,” she said. “A country needs a ruler. But taking you from your mother—didn’t your father have any say at all?”

  Karl shrugged. “I expect it was his idea. She was a lot older than he was. Anyway, she’s dead now, so it doesn’t mat
ter, does it?”

  “It would matter a lot to me if she had been my mother.”

  He did not comment. They parted to go either side of a large rock.

  “What causes this sudden attraction to Trenko?” she asked when they met again. “Why are you and Lord Volpe so eager to attend a funeral?” Rubin, too, for that matter.

  Karl looked at her in surprise. “Didn’t your husband tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Then you think my father would tell me?” Smirk. “There must be something more. He never travels just for pleasure.”

  He was back in his sarcastic mode again, but she was seeing him in a different light and willing to make a few allowances. “Don’t you have any ideas?”

  “Lots of them, but you keep refusing me, my rosebud, my honeycake. I suspect the succession troubles them. The Margrave has no more sons and his health is poor. Who will hold the north end of Pilgrim Pass after he has rejoined the elements?”

  “And your purpose, my lord?”

  “Business, also.” He sighed. “As thou spurnest my troth, I go to woo the sweet Margarita!”

  “Who?”

  “Ah! You were not warned? How unfair!” Karl’s sneer was barely visible but clearly audible. “Ladislas’s only surviving child is his daughter, Margarita. Her brother is barely cold, but I imagine offers for her hand will be flooding in. I thought I would enter the lists.”

  “I wish you good chance, my lord.” And bad chance to the heiress. May she sweep him off his feet and keep him there! He would be a logical choice, though. Matchmaking might explain Lord Volpe’s eagerness to make the journey.

  “And what can your dear sovereign lord and husband’s purpose be, do you suppose?” Karl mused. “We cannot recall him ever going to a funeral before. He is usually too busy to attend his wives’. Business or pleasure?”

  “Being neighborly is good business for a ruler,” she said brightly, but she had guessed what was coming. She could feel the pain already.