Impossible Odds

by Dave Duncan

  Three letters lay on his bed. They had been opened, of course. Letters were always read and not always delivered. No, only two were letters. One was a note from his father congratulating him on his birthweek, five months ago. The other was from Franz saying the old man had died and they were going to put off the funeral until the twenty-fifth to let the family gather. At Brikov, of course. And hope-you-can-make-it-he-was-so-proud-of-you.

  The twenty-fifth of what, you big, dumb farmer?

  The third document was a pass, Westering Song, for ten days’ leave, signed by Banneret Catavolinos and dated the twenty-third of Ninthmoon. He was a straight sword, Catavolinos. Few commanders granted leave for any reason at all, and he must have brought this pass here personally and left it on the bed just in case Radu returned in time. After a few minutes’ counting and recounting, Radu decided that today was the twenty-fourth. The pass was still valid. If he went now, he might just make it out of Vamky.

  IV

  From a View to a Death

  • 1 •

  You have no doubt that the man in the dungeon was my husband?”

  “None, Your Highness.” Radu’s voice was raspy after so much talking, but he was a new man since the healing, nothing like the battered derelict they had rescued the previous evening. Ringwood could see a likeness to Harald now, Radu being darker and not as huge. Still big, though. And he impressed. He did not need True’s testimonial to be a convincing man. Even his throwaway mention of the three highwaymen had been believable.

  Fed and rested, Ringwood felt much more cheerful this morning, and so did the Count’s hall, with a log fire blazing on the hearth, sometimes puffing smoke when the wind gusted. Rain hissing in the chimney fulfilled Manfred’s prediction of bad weather. The travelers could not have made it over Smugglers’ Pass today.

  They were gathered on two benches before the fireplace—Ranter, Johanna, and Bellman on the left, Radu, Ringwood, and True on the right, with János on his throne between them. They had all been spellbound by the glimpse Radu had given of the inner workings of secretive Vamky. Now the questions were starting as people mulled over what he had said. The big one was going to be, What do we do now? but no one had gotten to that yet.

  Bellman said, “Tell me how the Grand Duke knew your name.”

  “When he visited Trenko last spring,” Radu said, “I was junior knight-brother in the escort, so I was assigned to be his custrel. His Highness is invariably courteous to subordinates.”

  “He is,” Joanna said, “but he’s notorious for not remembering names.” She frowned. “And his attendant was someone else. A longish name…”

  “Knight-brother Nickolaus on the outward journey. I inherited the honor for our return.”

  “I do not recall seeing you on that trip at all!”

  Radu smiled. “I saw you, Your Highness.”

  “I expect it was the beard. And I used to be taller than you, too!”

  He laughed. “You’re thinking of Franz.”

  “Oh? Maybe. I can’t keep track of you all.”

  “Franz dreamt of kissing you as soon as he wouldn’t have to stand on tiptoe.”

  Johanna flickered him a smile of the sort that Ringwood had learned to avoid. She looked up at the Count. “When do you leave for Krupa, my lord?” Here it came.

  “Soon.” He had a great face for scowling with, had János. “In summer, on dry roads, I can do it in one day. In this storm, I’ll overnight at Donehof and go on in the morning.”

  The wedding was tomorrow at sunset and no one had forgotten that, least of all the Grand Duke’s wife.

  “And where will you be staying in Krupina?”

  “I rented a house for the week of the festivities. My bursar thought I’d bought it when I told him the price.”

  Ringwood noted that no offer of hospitality followed. János was probably skilled at avoiding trouble. He chose his battlefields, and squiring the previous Grand Duchess to the enthronement of the next one would greatly displease his liege lord the Duke.

  “When did you do that?” she asked, and the tension in the room tightened a notch.

  János could have said he had sent his steward, but True might have called him on it. “When I went to watch the inquiry into your death. Your first death, Your Grace.”

  “Did you see Rubin at that time?”

  He nodded. “Not to speak with.”

  “Was he limping?”

  “Not that I noticed, but I wasn’t looking for it.”

  “Well?” she demanded of the whole assembly. “I think he’s a fake! I believe Radu, and my husband is a prisoner in Vamky. How are we going to rescue him?”

  The Count made a derisive noise.

  “He is your liege lord!” Johanna’s words cracked like whips. “You will not go to his aid?”

  “Get him out of Vamky, girl? You’re out of your mind!”

  Everyone else was shooting wary glances at Ringwood, but he just smiled. He had already warned his ward that she could organize any sort of rescue she liked, or any sort of disruption of the wedding, but he would not let her become personally involved. She and her Blades were going no farther than Brikov, where they were now. End of journey, end of discussion.

  “Why bother?” Ranter asked. “Why would you want him back?”

  Even the Count winced.

  Johanna dug in her claws, arched her back, and spat. “Because, you thick oaf, Volpe stole my son and I will see him chained on the rack for it! I will gladly turn the screw until I get Frederik back, or forever. The louder he screams the louder I sing.”

  “The kid’s dead. You know that.”

  “I do not know that! Keep your mouth shut. My lord, today I will come with you as far as Donehof.”

  Ringwood yelped. “Your Highness! You agreed—”

  “Don’t be an old woman!” Johanna said. “I suppose that’s your job, being an old woman. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Why do you want to go to this place, wherever it is?”

  “For safety! Smugglers’ Pass is impassable in this weather, isn’t it, my lord? So Brikov is a dead end and very dangerous for me if Volpe has any more spies around here, and I’m sure he does. Donehof will be much safer.”

  “What’s Donehof?” Ringwood asked, knowing he had lost this battle. She had found the only argument he could not ignore, security.

  “A place I own not far south of Fadrenschloss,” János said. “One of Radu’s brothers runs it for me. It’s time I got started.” He edged forward on his throne.

  “It’s on the west road,” Johanna said, “so if there’s trouble you can spirit me out to the north or south as you please. Much safer than here.”

  “Why do you want to go there?” Ringwood asked, knowing her answer would merely eliminate one possible lie. Why had chance not given him a nice, malleable ward, one he could bully?

  “So I can wave when the bride goes by! When does the dear child arrive, does anyone know?”

  “She was due in Krupa three days ago,” János told her.

  “Oh, well.” If Johanna had really had plans to disrupt the bridal procession, she showed no signs of disappointment. “Radu? You know the situation in Vamky. How can we rescue His Highness?”

  The knight-brother shook his head. “I am your man, Your Highness, and will be loyal to the end of my days. After the crime I committed against your son and sister, the least I can do is to dedicate my life to your service. But I cannot see how what you suggest can be done. No nation in Eurania would attempt a siege, and storming those walls is unthinkable. The security on the gate has worked perfectly for centuries, so we cannot hope to sneak in. And if we did, how in the world would we get him safely out again? I couldn’t think of a way of escape for myself alone, one man, when my life depended on it.”

  Ringwood’s ward was nothing if not stubborn. “You implied that the Brotherhood was divided into Abbot’s men and Provost’s men.”

  “So I did,” Radu admitted. “Historically that is true, a
nd historically the dukes have always played off abbot against provost and vice versa. We humble serfs were convinced that Minhea and Volpe detested each other, but we were guessing. We had no evidence. I have been gone half a year, remember, so I am not up to date. It may be that I should have run to the Abbot to report what I had seen, but…” He shrugged. “I couldn’t believe such a prisoner could have been kept secret from him. His aides and Volpe’s must spend half their time keeping watch on each other. Would I even have been given a hearing? The Provost himself sent me to capture the boy, so the Abbot’s faction must regard me as one of his.”

  “You don’t think the Abbot and the Provost may have ganged up on the Duke this time?” Bellman asked.

  “Even that’s possible.” Radu was clearly suspicious of this flunky who sat so near Johanna on the bench, too close for a servant or even a social equal.

  Bellman pondered for a while, and everyone else waited expectantly. The Count frowned but did not interrupt. Johanna’s eyes were bright as she studied her lover’s profile. It was quite obvious how those two felt about each other, yet Bellman could never have shared her bed without her Blades being aware of it. Knowing how crazy he felt if he was away from True for very long, Ringwood marveled at their self-control.

  Then came Bellman’s next question. “You said, Knight-brother, that you thought the gate on the guardroom should have been locked. I assume the dungeon door was locked, since the prisoner did not try to come out?”

  “He was tethered, chained by the neck.”

  “Yes, and that’s curious. Are the locks in Vamky like the locks here in Brikov? Just ordinary old iron locks? Not conjured?”

  “I haven’t noticed…” Radu peered across at the hall door. “Nothing special that I know of. There are almost no locks in Vamky. Nobody owns anything except the right to food and clothing. Why?”

  “His father’s a locksmith!” Johanna announced triumphantly.

  Bellman nodded without taking his eyes off Radu. “Is your pass still valid, Knight-brother?”

  “It may be.” Radu looked at him incredulously. “Issued on the twenty-third. Um…odd month, odd days…this is the third?” He counted on his fingers. “It’s good until midnight tonight.”

  “We could make it to Vamky by then, couldn’t we? What’s written on these passes?” Bellman rushed on without waiting for an answer. “The date issued, commanding officer’s signature, an operation name? What else? Expiry date?”

  “The number of men leaving. Not an expiry. Mine had ‘Ten days’ written on it, but that was an instruction to me, not the guard. Nothing else. Vamky is very concerned about security.”

  Vamky sounded like a total madhouse to Ringwood. Give him Ironhall any day. And hold the celibacy.

  “The idea is that the men on the gates don’t know who’s doing what or why or going where,” Bellman agreed. “Likewise the men coming in. There must be a way to take advantage of that.”

  Radu stared at him. “You are raving! In centuries nobody has ever broken the Brotherhood’s security!”

  “How many have tried? I gather you can ride out in full ceremonial plate mail or half armor or peasant rags, depending on your mission, but indoors everyone wears those white gowns?”

  “Yes.” Radu was openly contemptuous now. “I hope you’re not suggesting we try to sneak an army in on my password?”

  “Just you and a prisoner,” Bellman said.

  “Men on leave do not go around collecting prisoners.”

  “That’s my point—the guards don’t know what you’ve been doing. You could have been on leave or serving with an army somewhere, they don’t know. How do they process prisoners?”

  “They would give me a receipt for you and march you away in chains. Catavolinos would be told about you when he was notified of my return.” Radu shook his head. “It won’t work! There may even be a note on my pass that I’m to be arrested on sight.”

  Bellman grunted, looking angry and baffled. “I doubt that. With this obsessive secrecy, they wouldn’t want the guards wondering why. If you do return you can’t get out again, so why should they worry?”

  “Exactly.” Radu’s smile indicated that the conversation was over and that the smarty young foreigner should stop trying to second-guess the Vamky Brotherhood.

  “So you need two passes,” True said.

  “Of course!” Bellman cried. “Why didn’t I see that?” He looked angry, not grateful.

  “See what?” Ringwood, Radu, and János demanded with one voice.

  Bellman gestured that True could have the honor.

  “Truth-sounding,” she said. “If Her Highness was right when she suggested that Vamky has spies here in Brikov, then I can ferret them out for you.”

  “No time for spy hunts,” János said uneasily. “My men are ready to leave.”

  “I’d almost swear that the Brotherhood will have an informer here, my lord,” Radu said. “Some man who’s arrived since Her Highness passed through in the spring, I’d guess. Or some Fadrenschloss man who moved here, because I’m certain Vamky kept watch on von Fader. Any man who’s ever served in Vamky, even briefly? Remember, they turned my brother into an assassin in half a year.”

  The Count scowled ferociously. “Wolfgang Webber, the wheelwright’s oldest. Three years in Vamky. Gave up about five months ago because he couldn’t get past novice grade.”

  “I’d bet a ducat he’s a squire or even a knight-brother, my lord.”

  “That’s the first thing to ask him,” True said. “Even if he just answers a simple, ‘No!’ I will hear a falsehood.”

  “Then we beat his password out of him!” Ranter said with zest.

  “You, boy, pull on that bell rope,” János told Ringwood.

  “You have a locksmith?” Bellman asked. “I’ll need lock picks.”

  “Blacksmith does that,” János said. There was excitement in the air now.

  “Stop!” Johanna said suddenly. “Stop! Stop!” She jumped up. “This is far too dangerous! I forbid it.”

  She should have changed her mind sooner, Ringwood thought. It was too late to call off the chase when the hounds had scented the game.

  Trudy and Johanna were hastily packing in the bedroom, stuffing dirty clothes in with others not yet dry, when they were interrupted by a thunderous hammering on the door. Trudy opened it and discovered four large men and a boy, a slight, fresh-faced kid who looked understandably alarmed and much younger than she had expected.

  “Fraulein Gertrude?” said a monstrous red beard. “This is Wolfgang Webber. Count says you have some questions to ask him.”

  Feeling ill already, Trudy forced herself to meet those innocent eyes. “I understand you spent two years in Vamky.”

  Angelic smile. “Nearer three years, fraulein.”

  “And why did you leave?”

  He was easy—his pupils contracted. “Because they wouldn’t promote me.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “Right!” said Red Beard.

  “No, wait! Wolfgang, I know when people tell lies. You want to give me the truth now, or wait until these men hurt you?”

  “You’re wrong!” he said shrilly. “I am not lying.”

  “Bring him,” Red Beard said. “We’ll call you when he’s ready, fraulein.”

  Trudy closed the door. Her hands shook so hard she could barely lace up her saddlebags. She struggled to put on the fine kidskin rain cloak and hat that Ringwood had given her.

  “Don’t feel guilty!” Johanna said harshly. “They kidnapped my son. They killed Bernard. They’re spies and murderers and traitors. What you are doing is right.”

  That was easy for her to say—she hadn’t sensed the death spirits already closing in on young Wolfgang. Trudy followed her downstairs, escorted by the Blades, who had been standing guard in the corridor. Having sent porters to fetch the baggage, they plunged out into the rain, which was falling in solid sheets, misting the ground, cascading off eaves, winding in rivulets over the gr
ound. Men made room for them in the stables. There they stood and shivered, listening to the rain roaring on the slates. Out in the yard, two dozen or so men in helmets and breastplates were saddling up. When that confusion ended, with all the escort mounted and the packhorses laden, bedraggled boys still held a few unclaimed mounts. Thunder echoed through the hills, on and on.

  Bellman appeared in half armor, wet as pondweed. “What’re we waiting for?”

  “Wolfgang,” Johanna snapped. “He must be tougher than he looked.”

  “Do you think a daffodil would last three years in that madhouse? A question, Trudy—was Radu telling the truth when he said he was present on the Trenko expedition?”

  She said, “Yes. Why?”

  He managed to shrug his breastplate. “I don’t know why. That seems to have been the start of this affair. What happened to the first groom, Nickolaus?”

  Johanna chuckled. “You are the most infuriating man!” she said fondly. “I haven’t the faintest idea! How can that possibly matter now?”

  “I don’t know,” Bellman said, “except it feels as if it may. It’s sort of like picking a lock—poking around until it makes sense. I’ll ask Radu.”

  A helmet with a thick red beard appeared in the doorway. “Ach, there you are, fraulein! He’s ready for you now.”

  Sick at heart, Trudy went with him. Rain pounded on her hat and shoulders. Sensing red flames behind her, she twisted around to peer out of her hood. It was Ringwood, of course.

  “You stay here, love,” she said. “You’ll distract me.” Why had she ever volunteered for this?

  Wolfgang was a muddy heap against the rough stones of the rear wall of the barn. She could have found him just by homing in on the death elementals that were feeding his pain and terror. His guards’ hatred was palpable. They would not be feeling like that if they had enjoyed what they had done, but they had done it. One of them held an iron bar.