“Of course not; Gawaine’s with him.”
“That should help to keep him safe from assassins, but if the actor’s to deal successfully with the courtiers, he’s going to need some more subtle help. Perhaps the Lady Heather …”
“Good idea. I’ll go and see her now. What would I do without you, Brion?”
Roderik smiled at him pleasantly, and turned to leave. DeGrange sat very still. Blood dripped slowly from his clenched fists. The door had just started to close behind Roderik when DeGrange surged to his feet and snatched for the sword at his side. The pain hit him before his hand could even close around the hilt, and he collapsed back onto his chair, moaning and clutching at his head. He glared dully at the closed door as the pain died slowly away. Roderik hadn’t even noticed. DeGrange sat slumped in his chair, and his agonized breathing slowly settled.
One day, he promised himself. One day …
Jordan was getting impatient. He’d been waiting in the Great Hall for almost half an hour, and there was still no sign of the Regent, or Lewis, or Dominic. The Court was buzzing with conversation, but he didn’t dare join in. He didn’t know enough yet to be sure of not saying the wrong thing. Gawaine stood at his side, calm and unmoving. Jordan had noticed that everyone else at Court tended to give Gawaine plenty of room. He didn’t seem to be much liked at Court, but he was certainly respected. There was a stir among the nearby courtiers, and Jordan looked around in time to see Prince Lewis’s entrance.
His men came in first: a dozen guards in full chain mail, with drawn swords. They all had the hard, untrusting faces and professional wariness of the trained bodyguard. They took their time assuring themselves there was nothing immediately threatening in the Great Hall, then they fell back to either side of the doors as Lewis walked in. He wore his usual brown and green, but a quiet murmur swept through the Court as they saw the chain mail vest he was also wearing. For a prince to wear armor at Court was an open insult to the Regent. Lewis was saying very clearly that he no longer trusted the Regent to protect his life or his interests at Court. The courtiers bowed and curtsied, and Lewis acknowledged them with a vague wave of his hand. The guards watched the courtiers carefully. Jordan studied Lewis as openly as he could without staring. He’d been told about Lewis till he could have recited the man’s life history in his sleep, but Jordan was a great believer in first impressions. Lewis looked normal enough, even handsome in his way, but there was a strained, intense look to the man that grated subtly on Jordan’s nerves. It was as though Lewis was on a tight leash that he might slip at any moment, and run loose, out of all control. Jordan also didn’t like the sleek musculature of Lewis’s chest and arms that spoke of the trained swordsman, or the way Lewis’s eyes lingered on some of the fairer ladies at Court.
Jordan turned his attention to the two companions that had followed Lewis into the hall: Ironheart and the Monk. Ironheart was a tall knight in full battle armor, a strange enough sight at Court, but if he was strange, the Monk was downright unnerving. Just looking at the Monk, Jordan felt a cold shiver run through him, as though someone had just walked over his grave. There was something almost arrogant in the impenetrable darkness that filled the Monk’s cowl, in the blatant admission of his own supernatural nature. Jordan wasn’t sure whether there really was a body inside the robe or not. The arms were folded across the chest so that the cuffs were hidden, and the end of the Monk’s robe brushed against the floor. It could be nothing more than a simple illusion—the Monk was, after all, supposed to be a sorcerer. Jordan remembered the sudden thunderstorm at Barrowmeer, and Bloody Bones rising from his grave. If the Monk had been behind that, he could be more dangerous than Lewis and Dominic put together. Jordan looked hard at the Monk. There was something … wrong about him. And then Jordan swallowed dryly as he finally saw that the Monk, of all the people at Court, didn’t cast a shadow.
Jordan decided he’d rather look at Ironheart for a while. The knight stood motionless, a step behind Lewis, wearing full plate armor and a blocky steel helm with the visor lowered. There was no insignia or device on his armor to give a clue as to his identity. It was a knight’s armor, but that didn’t prove anything. In fact, if he was really a knight of the Realm, why wasn’t he called Sir Ironheart? In his own way, the armored knight was as mysterious and anonymous as the Monk. And like the Monk, no one at Castle Midnight seemed too sure of where he’d come from originally. The two of them had simply appeared at Lewis’s side one day, and they’d been there ever since.
It was hard to tell which of the two was feared most. Ironheart was Lewis’s pet murderer. Under Lewis’s direction, he’d challenged seventeen men to duels and killed them all with the great double-edged broadsword he carried slung on his back. Before Ironheart came along, Lewis had been content to do his own killing, but with the crown so nearly in his grasp of late, Lewis had grown cautious. Jordan studied Ironheart carefully. The armor was old and battered, and looked like it hadn’t been polished in years, but it was still clearly in good working order. The bone hilt of the broadsword peered over his left shoulder like a watchful eye. Jordan stared at the helm’s closed visor, and frowned thoughtfully. The man must be boiling hot inside all that armor, but still had made no move to take off his helm, or even to raise the visor. In fact, he seemed perfectly at ease.
“I’m starting to get the feeling I may have joined the wrong side,” said Jordan quietly to Gawaine. “We’re supposed to take on those two? A monk who isn’t there and an armored killing machine? I think we’re seriously outclassed here, Gawaine. All right, we beat Bloody Bones, but you know and I know that was only because we got lucky. A few conjuring tricks and a magic ax aren’t going to be enough this time. I mean, we don’t even have a real sorcerer on our side! I wish I was drunk. I wish I was very drunk. Maybe then my knees would stop shaking.”
“Will you get a hold of yourself!” Gawaine’s voice was no less sharp for being quiet. “We knew about Ironheart and the Monk when we started this. They’re impressive, but not unbeatable. No one’s unbeatable. Now brace yourself, Lewis is coming over.”
Jordan quickly adopted his bland, untroubled face; the one he used when dealing with angry creditors. It was a very calm and relaxed face, with more than a little I know something you don’t about it. It worked very well, as often as not. Jordan breathed deeply and carefully, bringing himself under control. Show time. Nothing to worry about. Viktor was just another character. He ran quickly through what little he’d been told about Viktor and Lewis. They disliked each other, but they both hated Dominic. Dominic is insane, and Lewis is vile … Jordan smiled easily as Lewis came to a halt before him. Lewis bowed formally. Ironheart and the Monk stayed back a way, politely out of earshot but within easy call. They didn’t bow to Jordan, so he ostentatiously ignored them. He nodded briefly to Lewis.
“Well, Viktor, it’s good to see you up and about again,” said Lewis. His voice was warm and hearty. The smile was fairly convincing, but it didn’t even touch the cold eyes. “I had heard you were quite ill.”
“I was,” said Jordan. “I got over it.” He would have liked to leave it there rather than risk his characterization at such an early stage, but he could see Lewis was waiting for more. Going by its sudden silence, so was the Court. Jordan cleared his throat, and then wished he hadn’t. It made him sound nervous and insecure. “It was just a chill, Lewis; nothing more. I probably caught it on my travels.”
“Nasty things, chills,” said Lewis. “They can get serious. People have been known to die of them, if they don’t take care.”
Oh subtle, Lewis, thought Jordan. Really subtle.
“That’s true,” he said calmly. “All kinds of people. You never know who’s going to catch one next, do you?”
“I take precautions,” said Lewis.
“So do I,” said Jordan. “Lots of them.”
“You certainly sound better. But appearances can be so misleading.”
“Don’t bet on it, Lewis. I feel strong enough to tak
e on the whole damned world.”
Lewis looked at him thoughtfully, and Jordan suddenly wondered if he’d walked into a trap. Lewis was the duelist in the family, after all. Jordan thought quickly back on what he’d said, but there didn’t seem to be anything Lewis could take as an insult. Had he appeared too confident, perhaps? Viktor had looked to be rather a weak sort, but Gawaine had said he never backed down to anyone. Jordan shrugged mentally. What the hell, everyone knew Viktor had been away for four years. Exile can change a man.
“I’m glad to hear you’ve got your strength back,” said Lewis finally. “You’re going to need it. I imagine things are going to be rather hectic around here for a while.”
“Looks that way,” said Jordan. “Do you know why the Regent wants to see us?”
“Haven’t a clue, but I doubt it’s anything good. Have you seen Dominic?”
“Not recently.”
“I understand he and Elizabeth have gone into politics. They’re doing rather well, I believe. But then, they always were a splendid team.”
“Yes,” said Jordan. “I always knew Elizabeth would go far, one way or another.”
Lewis looked at him. “You’ve mellowed, Viktor. Your time in exile must have agreed with you.”
Jordan smiled. “I learned a great many things while I was away from Court, Lewis. You’d be surprised.” He glanced at the Monk and Ironheart, still keeping a respectful distance. “I see your taste in friends hasn’t improved.”
“They have their uses. And they are very loyal.”
“Oh, I’m sure they are, Lewis. But have you ever stopped to ask yourself why? All loyalty has its price. You should know that.”
Lewis started to say something, and then stopped. He looked at Jordan thoughtfully, then nodded politely, and moved away. Ironheart and the Monk went with him. Jordan watched them go, and felt a little of the tension drain out of him. He was only too aware that the encounter could have ended nastily, in any number of unpleasant ways. He looked at the dozen armed guards surrounding Lewis, and felt an immediate desire to start checking for exits he could get to in a hurry. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and let it out slowly.
“Well, Gawaine,” he said quietly, “how am I doing?”
“Very well, Your Highness,” murmured the knight. “I’m impressed. If you’ll pardon a little advice, you are coming on a bit strong, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. No one’s been quite sure how to react to you after your long absence, and a little show of strength now might help to keep the flies off.”
“That crack Lewis made about Dominic and Elizabeth; should I have been more upset? I mean, I know how important Elizabeth was to me, but I’ve got Heather now. Though come to think of it, where is Heather? Shouldn’t she be here with me?”
“She’ll be joining us shortly, sire, I’ve no doubt. As for Elizabeth and Dominic; you’ve waited four years for a chance to make them pay. I think you can wait a little longer, to be sure of getting them. You’ve had a lot of time to learn patience.”
The main doors swung open again, and the Court fell silent as the herald announced the arrival of Prince Dominic and the Lady Elizabeth. Jordan studied them both interestedly as they stood a moment in the doorway, acknowledging the bows and curtsies of the Court. Dominic was tall and slender, with a dour ascetic face, and pale straw-colored hair that fell lifelessly to his shoulders, held back from his face by a gleaming silver circlet. His outfit was a blue so dark as to be almost black, making his pale skin seem even paler. Jordan had seen corpses that looked healthier than Prince Dominic. He looked pretty much as Jordan had expected him to, given the various descriptions he’d had, but even so Jordan was unprepared for the cold air of menace that hung about Dominic like a shroud. And there was something disturbing about the pale blue eyes. It took Jordan a few moments to realize that Dominic didn’t blink often enough.
The Lady Elizabeth stood close by Dominic, her arm linked possessively through his. She was easily as tall as Dominic, and had a voluptuous figure that was almost too full. Jordan knew her type. Only strict diets and ruthless self-control kept her figure from exploding into fat. Her hair was a thick tangled mane of raven’s black that tumbled unconfined to her bare powdered shoulders. Her dress of aquamarine blue had been cunningly tailored to make the most of her spectacular figure. Her face … Jordan wasn’t sure how he felt about her face. Elizabeth was certainly beautiful, no doubt of that, but the lips were a shade too full, the cheeks a trifle too broad, and her flawless skin owed a little too much to the makeup box. Probably no one but an actor would have noticed these things, but to Jordan they made all the difference. Working in the theater you meet more beautiful women than not, and you soon learn to see the true nature beneath the pretty face. Elizabeth was undeniably gorgeous, but it only took Jordan a few moments to decide that he wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole. There was a subtle streak of cruelty in the twist of her smile, and in her narrowed eyes; a catlike delight in seeing her prey suffer before she destroyed it. Her dark eyes fell on Jordan, and she caught his appraisal. She smiled mockingly at him, and murmured something to Dominic. He turned slowly to stare at Jordan with his cold unwavering gaze. Jordan inclined his head slightly. Dominic walked unhurriedly toward him, with Elizabeth at his side. The courtiers fell quickly back to make way for them, and a breathless hush filled the Court. Gawaine stirred at Jordan’s side. Jordan held himself as conspicuously relaxed as possible. It was important that he didn’t seem at all nervous or intimidated. The Court was watching too closely. Dominic and Elizabeth finally stopped short a few paces away from him, and Dominic bowed very briefly. Elizabeth didn’t curtsy.
“Welcome home, brother,” said Dominic. His voice was surprisingly deep and resonant, but it was still as cold as his eyes. “My apologies for not meeting you before, but I’ve been rather busy just lately. You must be glad to be home again, though I think I should warn you that many things have changed in your absence.”
“Oh sure,” said Jordan amiably. “But then, some things never change, do they? I hear you and Elizabeth have gone into politics.”
“Dominic has many friends at Court these days,” said Elizabeth. “Powerful and influential friends, who expect him to do great things in the future. They’re all being very supportive.”
“Yes, I imagine they are,” said Jordan to Dominic, ostentatiously ignoring Elizabeth. “But as I was just saying to Lewis, all loyalty has its price. Even simple friendship often has a price these days. Personally, I’ve never cared much for friendships that have been bought and paid for. They tend to be so … impermanent.”
Dominic said nothing, but Elizabeth flushed angrily at being ignored. “Then again, dear Viktor,” she said tartly, “some friendships aren’t worth buying, are they? Because some people don’t have any future worth the mentioning. You’d do well to watch your step, Viktor. There’s a new order at Castle Midnight, and you’re not a part of it, and never will be.”
“Talks a lot, doesn’t she?” said Jordan to Dominic. “She even mutters in her sleep, from what I remember.”
Elizabeth stood very still, two bright spots of color burning on her cheeks. Dominic frowned slightly.
“I never liked you, Viktor,” he said finally, his voice calm and even distant. “I’ll weep no tears at your funeral. If you’re wise, you’ll leave Castle Midnight while you have the chance. If you don’t, I can’t be responsible for your safety.”
“I can look after myself,” said Jordan. “And if anyone’s stupid enough to try anything against me, their friends will be carrying what’s left of them home in a bucket. You’re a pain in the arse, Dominic. That’s all you ever were, and it’s all you’ll ever be. Still, I shouldn’t be too hard on you, I suppose; you did do me one great favor. You took that arrogant loudmouthed bitch off my hands. I don’t know how you stand it, myself. If I were you, I’d invest in some earplugs and a gag.”
“You bastard!”
Elizabeth raised her hand to strike Jordan a
cross the face. He quickly palmed one of his flare pellets, and crushed it in his hand. Flames leapt up around his fist as he held it up before him. Elizabeth dropped her hand and fell back a pace. Dominic didn’t move. The Court was utterly silent, the only sound the crackling of the blue-white flames as they leapt and danced around Jordan’s fist.
“Never raise a hand to me,” said Jordan softly. “Not you, or anyone else.”
Dominic looked at him impassively. “You’re a dead man, Viktor.”
“Blow it out your ear, Dominic.”
Dominic turned and walked unhurriedly away, followed after a moment’s hesitation by Elizabeth. Not far away, Lewis stood watching silently, flanked by Ironheart and the Monk. Jordan blew out the flames and lowered his hand, and the Court’s chatter slowly resumed, if a trifle subdued.
“You’re pushing it, Your Highness,” said Gawaine quietly. “What would you have done if Dominic had challenged you to a duel, and raised his magic? Your conjuring tricks wouldn’t have lasted five seconds against his water magic.”
“It was a risk,” Jordan admitted, “but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t start anything. Not in front of the Court. There’d be too many witnesses if he lost. From everything you’ve told me, Prince Viktor’s fire magic is very impressive. If Dominic was confident enough of his magic to fight a duel with me, he’d have done it by now, or even years ago, when the two of us first quarreled over Elizabeth. He didn’t. Mind you, Viktor didn’t either, which suggests that back then he wasn’t sure. My using fire was a calculated bluff, and it seems to have paid off. You’re right, though: I am pushing it. I don’t have any other choice. I’ve got to come on as strong and confident as I can, or there’ll be challenges and assassins crawling out of the woodwork. In the meantime, I need you to back me up. Keep your hand near that ax of yours, and glare at anyone who gets too close.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Gawaine said nothing more, but Jordan got the impression he was pleased. Jordan felt a little more relaxed, now that he was finally getting a feel for the part he was playing. His problem was that he’d been basing his characterization on secondhand views and a brief meeting with a man who was clearly very ill. By playing the role as he felt it should be played, he was doing much better. So far. What happened next would depend on what the Regent had to say when he finally deigned to show up. Jordan felt very definitely that he needed more advice on that. Where the hell were Roderik and DeGrange? Even Argent’s unsmiling face would have been something of a relief. The main doors swung open and Jordan looked around eagerly, but it was only the Lady Heather. He quickly hid his disappointment as the herald announced her, and smiled widely at Heather. She gave him a smile that would have melted the heart of a lesser man, and hurried over to join him. He kissed her outstretched hand, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
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