by Jeffrey Lord
Blade shook his head. "So the king and his queen quarrel in public? That is bad, Sylvo. Of what do they dispute?"
The man squinted at him and chuckled. "None of your affair, master, and yet I will tell you. It is common enough knowledge. The king is a great cock and likes his hens of late he has been topping a serving wench by name of Gweneth. All knew but the queen but now she has found out and the wench has disappeared. The king is sullen about it, and very full of beer else he would not have brought it into the open and he claims that Alwyth has done away with the girl. Or had it done, since the queen is not likely to soil her own hands with the murder of a servant."
Blade failed, for an instant, to guard his expression. And learned that the man Sylvo was indeed shrewd.
"You have an odd look to you, master. Could you know aught of this?"
Blade managed innocence. "I know of it? How? I am a stranger, as you well know. I have no friends in Sarum Vil, unless it be the Princess Taleen, for whom I did some small service. And she," he added gloomily, "has forgotten me."
For a moment the rude hut vanished and Blade was back in the glade of sacred oaks. That silver hair, the slim body, the lovely and demonic face as the golden sword slashed down. Who was she? Where had she gone? He did not know it at the time, but it was the beginning of a long haunting.
And it explained, or so he would have sworn, how the servant girl had come into the hands of the Drus.
At the mention of Taleen the guard's hideous face brightened. "Ar," he admitted, "there is a woman for you! Only a girl, I know, and no doubt virgin as the high born keep their daughters, but a woman none the less. The man who first cleaves that cunna will be a fortunate knave indeed. Ar, that he will."
Blade frowned at him, pretending anger. "I think you speak above yourself."
Sylvo laughed, not a bit abashed. "Ar, master, perhaps I do. But who is to know? You? Come now, master. You are a beggar with one pair of ragged breeches. I do not fear you. Though I admit that you are probably high born and could strangle me like a newborn babe, yet it serves you nothing. For a time I am master here and you are prisoner. Is that not the truth of it?"
Blade grinned and admitted that it was. And made a vow to teach Sylvo manners, if ever the opportunity arose.
"What of the Princess Taleen. Have you seen her?"
Sylvo was seeking for another louse in his armpit. "Only when the two of you first entered town. Since then she has kept to herself in the king's great house. You seem to have a great interest in the princess, master."
Blade watched the play of speculation across the ruined face. Bawdiness was second nature to the man. Then Sylvo shook his head so hard that his helmet nearly tumbled off.
"No! It is not possible. The princess is of the high blood and you "
There was a light tapping at the door. Sylvo, who had been squatting on his heels, leaped up and half faced the door, yet keeping the spear vigilant on Blade. The man grinned. "Ar, that will be my relief. About time, by Thunor! I shall have my share of the beer and women after all."
"Best answer it then," said Blade dryly, "and stop your cackling." As he spoke he glanced up at the roof hole. The stars had vanished and a coil of mist hung just over the aperture. The night had turned thick and gloomy.
Sylvo was whispering at the door. Frowning and squinting and mumbling. It was not his relief, then. Blade heard a woman's whisper and the rustle of feminine garments. He took a deep breath of relief. She had not forgotten him after all.
He was puzzled by what followed. Sylvo extended a hand through the narrowly cracked door, took something, then closed the door and turned to face Blade again. "By Thunor's liver," he said, "this matter grows in mystery." He tossed a coin in the air and caught it, then bit it with his snaggle teeth. "And I have come by a whole mancus.
Pure bronze. I, Sylvo, who have never seen aught but iron scills in my life. A mancus! With three of them I could buy a farm and cattle. A mancus! Me. Poor Sylvo."
Blade could not restrain his impatience. "That was the Princess Taleen, then? She gave you a note? A message for me?"
Sylvo bit the coin again, then slipped it into a purse on his belt, from which also hung a naked dirk. He squinted at Blade.
"Wrong, master. Ar, very wrong. Therein lies the danger which I have agreed to risk for a mancus. And great danger it is, by Thunor! Danger for both of us. So listen well, master, and make me a promise that you will never speak of this."
Blade lost his temper. He roared like a bull. "Stop your mumbling, you ugly lout, and speak clearly! Who was it, if not the Princess Taleen? And what is all this prattle of danger?"
Sylvo squinted and caressed a few scraggy hairs on his chin. "It is the Lady Alwyth, master. The queen. She would speak with you. She is waiting now until I have your promise of silence. I must have it. Ar, I am no fool. When two great stones play together it is always the kernel in the midst that is crushed."
"Have done with your cursed riddles," Blade shouted. "It is all the same, then. This lady brings me a message from the princess, that must be it. Admit her at once."
Sylvo was not to be hurried. His face was contorted in thought. "Not so fast, master. It is my head and I must think of it else who will? You are strange here, I am not. I know stories of the Lady Alwyth that you do not. It is a dour, murk night and she comes alone and without escort and seeks to buy silence. Such nights have a way of breeding dark deeds. And still a whole mancus to me!"
Blade controlled himself. He shrugged his big shoulders in feigned indifference. "Suit yourself. It is none of my affair and, as you say, it is your head. But I will give my oath not to speak of this and" slyly "you will have to give back the mancus if you do not admit the lady."
Blade turned his back, crossed his arms and gazed up through the roof at the roiling mist.
He heard Sylvo mutter. "Return the money? Not by the hairs on Thunor's head. I have your promise, master?"
"You have it."
Sylvo muttered again. "Then I will give you half the time it takes a water clock to empty. No more. I will be just outside, master, with my spear and dirk, so attempt no escape. If you do I will kill you and then try to lie my way out of it it would not be the first time. You swear this on Thunor's heart?"
Blade faced him and held up his right hand. "I swear it on Thunor's heart. Now admit the lady. And keep sharp watch. I do not wish to be interrupted. Nor, I think, will the lady."
"In that, master, we are all agreed." Sylvo opened the door and slipped out.
The single flambeau guttered and smoked in the sudden draft. It was secured to a beam by an iron sconce nothing more than a ring and it gave a dim red light and stank abominably of fish oil.
The Lady Alwyth. Lycanto's queen herself! Blade did not know what to make of it. Yet he took heart. Taleen must have spoken with the queen, had pleaded his cause with some success, or the lady would not be here. Yet why Alwyth and not the princess herself? Why all the secrecy, the furtive payment for silence? Blade shrugged. He would know soon enough. And anything was better than this stinking hut.
The door opened, then closed swiftly. At once Blade caught the scent of chypre. It was Taleen then, by some trick! No. This woman was far too short, too tiny, to be the princess. The heavily muffled figure that stood watching him was barely five feet tall. She wore a heavy cloak of fur, trimmed with a finer and more glossy fur that he thought was ermine, or possibly sea otter. Her dark blonde hair was caught up high and held with a single long golden pin. Her coronet was of gold and figured with dragons rampant. A white veil, secured to the coronet on either side, masked her face.
She spoke first. "You are Richard Blade? He who came to this place with the Princess Taleen?" Blade did not miss the tinge of spite as she spoke Taleen's name.
He bowed. "I am that Richard Blade, my lady." He waited. He was out of his depth, knew it, and so must let her take the lead.
He could not penetrate the white veil, but knew that she was seeing very well. She eyed him u
p and down, making no effort to disguise the scrutiny that she might have given an animal, or a slave in the market place. Again he caught the waft of chypre. A perfume that only the well born could afford. Later he was to learn that the use of chypre was forbidden to all but a few, on pain of death.
Her voice was husky, sure and incisive, yet pitched nearly as low as a man's. She raised a white hand, on which rings sparkled, and pointed to the guttering torch. "Stand over there. I would see you better."
Blade did as he was bade. He did not like her tone. He had a premonition that, were he ever to see her face, he would not like it either. He moved into the light without speaking.
Again the long scrutiny. Blade, without seeming to, studied her as closely. Though she might be tiny, she filled the cloak well. He thought that she breathed harder now than when she entered, and the breasts beneath the cloak were full enough.
"Taleen spoke truth in one thing," she said at last. "You are a magnificent animal! Truly a brute of a man. Have you a head to go with it, Blade? Can you think? Or are you merely another bed warrior?"
Blade nearly scowled. Yet he kept his temper and bowed again, careful not to appear obsequious. "I have been known to think, my lady." Then, before he could bite it back, "As to being a bed warrior would you care to challenge me, my lady?"
One small foot, clad in a pale leather sandal, began to pat the earthen floor. Yet he thought she smiled behind the veil.
"You are a saucy rogue! Taleen spoke the truth again. Take down your breeches, Blade."
Complete poise, in any situation, is given to few men. Blade was one of that few. Yet even he hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment then he loosened his ragged scarecrow's breeches and stepped out of them. He prayed now that he would not begin to react to the scent of her and the nearness of her femaleness, and so make a further show of himself. This was all very infra dig, and he thought again that in doing as the Albians did one had to do some damned nutty things!
The woman moved closer to him. One of the jeweled hands moved and for a moment he thought she would touch him, but she contented herself by looking. She walked completely around him. There was no doubt that she breathed faster now. He began to guess, a little, at the secret. Nymphomania in Alb was much the same as nymphomania in London.
As she moved away she traced fingers lightly over the small of his back. Blade shivered. And, as he had feared, began to react.
Her laugh, muffled by the veil, was husky. "A veritable ox. Put on your breeches, Blade. Pleasure postponed is pleasure prolonged."
She stood watching as he pulled on his breeches and adjusted them. She was holding the fur cloak tightly about her.
"Taleen says you are a wizard, Blade. This is true?"
He played it straight and for all it was worth. For the moment he was lost, understanding nothing, yet he sensed that there was deadly purpose in this strange visitation. The smell of intrigue, and of danger, was as palpable in the hut as the stink of the wavering torch.
He bowed again, very slightly this time. "It is true, my lady. You are in need of a wizard?" He let the sarcasm ring clear.
She let it pass. Her hand moved again, a sparkling white moth in the dim light. "Yes, Blade. I need a wizard. But I also need a warrior. You are a fighter, or so Taleen tells me." Again a wisp of spite clung to the princess' name.
"I have killed my share of men." It was true. No need to mention that he had dealt in more sophisticated death, in another life, a different cosmic dimension. She would have named him madman, raving. And death was still death name it how you liked, purvey it as you would. Hot and bloody. Cold and final. The end result was the same.
For a moment there was silence in the hut. The torch sparked and stank. Dank mist sank through the roof hole and lay in ghostly strata near the ceiling. From somewhere in the town came a sudden roar of laughter and the chiming clash of swords. She watched him through the veil.
At last she spoke. "There is none to hear us, Blade. If trouble comes of this I will be believed, not you, and I will see that you are flayed alive, inch by inch. I will speak my heart, with no mincing of words, no lies, no Dru language of many meanings or sometimes none at all. You will listen, Blade, and you will heed well, and then you will forget that I have spoken so. It is action I require of you, not words. All this is understood?"
He inclined his head. This was indeed a night for mystery.
She moved a step closer. The sensual odor of chypre enveloped him.
"There is little time, Blade, so I will be as brief as may be and have you still understand me. Long ago, when I was but a maiden, the Drus prophesied to me that I would one day rule Alb. The old high priestess, long dead now, bespoke me in private and said that I would marry a king. Which I did. I was also told that one day a stranger would come his visage and manner were not foretold but he would be a warrior, in great repute with ladies, and through him I would come to rule Alb."
Blade was listening with great attention, every sense attuned. It was all mumbo-jumbo, no doubt a stock Dru prophecy designed to flatter, and yet here he was. With the Lady Alwyth, Queen of Alb.
She sensed his thought and from behind the veil came a spate of mirthless laughter. "I also doubted, even then when I was a callow virgin. The Drus are great liars and twist words as a smith twists iron. Yet I did not forget. And you are here, Blade. Who can gainsay it?"
Blade nodded in silence. Who indeed could gainsay it! Not he. Not since Lord Leighton and his infernal, and erratic, computer.
"I will ease your mind about the Princess Taleen, who I think is so much taken with you," she went on. The spite-fulness was back. "She came at once to me and, though we hate each other, tried to cozen me that I speak to the king and get you a place at the War Council. As brazen as any camp whore, she was. I listened, saying but little, and so learned much about you. Is it true, Blade, that she came on you sleeping naked in the forest?"
"It is true. I was carried by magic from my own land, where I am a wizard, and by a miscalculation I was unclothed."
He watched her narrowly, trying to judge reaction behind the veil.
"That is as may be," she said calmly. "I do not believe it, but it is of no moment. As soon as Taleen was empty of words I realized that my time had come, that perhaps the old Dru did not lie for profit and favor. I had a potion made and gave it to Taleen in broth. It stimulates the swooning sickness, and she lies so now."
Blade scowled. "You have harmed her? Or intend to?"
A quick negation of the white hand, jewels glinting. "I have not harmed her. She merely sleeps, and so being harmless will not be harmed. I am not fool enough to risk the wrath of her father, Voth of the North. And she is cousin to my husband, Lycanto. He is a fool, a drunkard and a weakling who seeks to dip his limp sword into every female he can find, yet an affront to his own. blood would rouse him. I play not that game. Instead I shall be sly and send Taleen back to her father, with ample escort, and so gain credit with Voth for saving her from the evil Beata."
"Which I did," growled Blade.
The white veil moved as she nodded. "Which you did. And for which I will be credited." She was yet closer to him, the scent of her stronger, her white hands fluttering near his nakedness.
"A small matter, Blade. Suffice that we get Taleen out of the way with no blame to us. Forget her. I have arranged that you sit on the War Council this night'."
He did not show his surprise. He nodded gravely. "To what purpose, my lady? I know my purpose, my reasons for asking Taleen to arrange this, but what purpose of yours that I sit on this Council?"
"For diverse reasons." She ticked them off on bejeweled fingers. "That you come to know Lycanto and his warriors, most especially his chiefs and captains, for it is with them that you must deal when he is dead."
A hard smile crooked the corner of Blade's firm mouth. "He is going to die, then?" His feigned surprise sounded nearly genuine.
Impatience now, for the first time. "Taleen said you were a fool in
some things, yet not a fool in many. Be not a fool now! Why think you I am here, skulking like a thief in dark night? What manner of wizard are you that cannot see what is in my mind?"
He turned brusque. "You are right, my lady. I would be a poor wizard indeed if I could not read you. You wish me to slay Lycanto?"
A careless shrug. "Or have him slain. It is all one to me. I do not know how wizards do these things, but it would be better if the blame lies not on you."
His little bow was mocking. "And certainly not on you, eh, my lady?"
"Certainly not on me." She glanced around the rude hut with disdain. "I leave you soon, and when I go from this pigsty I leave all knowledge of what was spoken here. I will mind my wifely affairs and wait for news that Lycanto is dead. How you arrange it is nothing to me. Perhaps you cannot arrange it, and it is you who will be killed, and this too matters not to me. It will mean that you are a poor wizard and not the stranger prophesied to me by the old Dru. I have done all I can I have procured you a place at the Council, where for a little time you will sit as a peer and be listened to. There is danger, grave danger. For you. You will be tested, well tested, for if Lycanto is a fool most of his chiefs are not. But if you succeed, Blade, if you win, there will be reward enough."
"And this reward?"
"Great enough, Blade, for a man who now has nothing and who stands to win everything. Enough for a beggar who can die at the whim of any drunken man at arms and no penalty to pay, save it be a paltry few scills in murder tax. You will rule with me, Blade, if you prove the man for it. In bed as in battle, and the proving lies on you. You see I do not lie or give false promises. There is no need for such, with you."
He nodded. So be it. It was as much as he could hope for in the circumstances. He would play her game minute by minute, hour by hour, and at the same time play his own game. He must tread a prickly path, and no help for it.
He took a step toward her. They were very near now,and her scent was cloying and tantalizing in his nostrils. Taleen had aroused him and he had fought it back; the Lady Alwyth, with her doll's figure and scent, her veil and its aura of mystery, most of all the murder in her heart, aroused a cold and careless lust in him. She sought to use him as weapon. Very well, he would use her as receptacle to cool his lust. At once. Here. Now. Swiftly and brutally.