The Charnel Prince

by Greg Keyes

“Yes.”

  “I don’t see them.”

  He tapped his head. “They’re still in here, with the rest of it.”

  She blinked at him. “You’re making it up?”

  “I’m making it up,” he confirmed.

  “What are the words?”

  “The first word is ih,” Leoff said solemnly.

  “Ih? That’s the servants’ word for I.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s a very important word. It’s the first time it’s been used like this.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do myself.”

  “But why the servants’ language? Why not the king’s tongue?”

  “Because most people in Crotheny speak Almannish, not the king’s tongue.”

  “They do?”

  He nodded.

  “Is that because they’re all servants?”

  He laughed. “In a way, I suppose so.”

  “We all of us are servants,” a feminine voice said from the doorway. “It’s only a matter of whom we serve.”

  Leoff turned in his seat. A woman stood there. At first he noticed only her eyes, cut gems of topaz that glittered with a deep green fire. They held him mercilessly, and kept his throat tight for too long.

  He broke the gaze finally.

  “Lady,” he managed, “I have not had the pleasure.” He reached for his crutches and managed to stand and make a little bow.

  The woman smiled. She had ash-blond hair that hung in curls and a pleasantly dimpled face that was beginning to show some age. He reckoned her to be in her mid-thirties.

  “I am Ambria Gramme,” she told him.

  Leoff felt his mouth drop open, and closed it. “You’re Mery’s mother?” he said. “I’m very pleased to meet you. I must say, she is a delight, and a most promising student.”

  “Student?” Gramme asked sweetly. “Who are you? And what do you teach, exactly?”

  “Oh, my apologies. I am Leovigild Ackenzal, the court composer. I thought Mery would have mentioned me.” He glanced at the girl, who looked innocently away.

  The smile widened. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you. Quite the hero, yes? For your part in the business at Broogh.”

  Leoff felt his face warming. “If I did anything commendable, it was by sheerest accident, I assure you.”

  “Humility isn’t particularly fashionable in the court at the moment, but you do wear it well,” Lady Gramme said. Her eyes drifted down his frame. “You are cut from good cloth, just as I’ve heard.”

  “I . . .” He stopped. He had nothing to say to that, and he tried to gather his composure. “I’m sorry, milady, I thought you knew I was giving Mery music lessons. I mean her no harm, I assure you.”

  “The fault isn’t yours,” Gramme replied. “Mery simply forgot to tell me. Didn’t you, Mery?”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “As you should be. Fralet Ackenzal is an important man. I’m sure he doesn’t have time for you.”

  “Oh, no,” Leoff replied. “As I said, she’s a wonderful student.”

  “I’m sure she is. But at present my funds do not allow for the cost of tutoring.”

  “I ask for no compensation,” Leoff said. “My expenses at the court are taken care of.” He waved his hands helplessly. “I would hate to see her talent go to waste.”

  “She has talent, you think?”

  “I assure you. Would you like to hear her play something?”

  “Oh, no,” Gramme said, still smiling. “I’ve no ear at all, I’m told. I trust your judgment.”

  “Then you won’t mind?”

  “How could I refuse such a kind gesture?” Her lips pursed. “But still, it puts me in your debt. You must let me make it up to you somehow.”

  “That’s not necessary,” he said, trying very hard to keep his voice from breaking.

  “No, I know just the thing. I’m having a small fete on Saint Bright’s Eve. You’re new here, and could do with some introductions, I’m sure. I insist you attend.”

  “That’s very kind, lady.”

  “Not at all. It’s the least I can do for someone who indulges my little Mery. There, it’s settled.” Her gaze shifted. “Mery, when you’ve finished your lessons, come to my apartments, will you?”

  “Yes, Mama,” the girl replied.

  “Good day to you, then,” Gramme said.

  “Good day to you, Lady Gramme.”

  “You might call me Ambria,” she replied. “Most of my friends do.”

  Mery left a bell later, and Leoff returned to his work, a tense excitement growing in his belly. It felt right, it felt perfect, the way his composition was growing. It felt important, too, but that consideration he tried to keep at a distance. If he thought about that too much, the task grew daunting.

  Toward vespers, he heard footsteps and a small rap at his door. He found Artwair standing there, dressed much as when he had first met him, in traveling clothes.

  “My lord!” he said, reaching for his crutches.

  “No, no, keep your seat,” Artwair said. “Surely we’ve no need for that.”

  Leoff smiled, realizing just how good it was to see the duke again.

  “How are you getting along, Leoff?” Artwair asked, taking a seat on a stool.

  “The queen came to see me,” he said. “She’s commissioned a work, and it’s going—well, very well. I’m very hopeful for it.”

  Artwair looked a bit surprised. “What sort of a work? Not a requiem, I hope.”

  “No, something much more exciting. I tell you, it’s something that has never been done before.”

  Artwair raised an eyebrow. “So? Well, have a care, my friend. Sometimes the new isn’t always the best thing for the moment. The local clergy is already muttering about you.”

  Leoff waved that away. “The queen has confidence in me. That’s all I care about.”

  “The queen is not the only power to be reckoned with in this court.”

  “It can hardly be worse than Broogh,” Leoff said.

  “It most certainly can,” Artwair said, his voice suddenly as serious as Leoff had ever heard it. “These days, it most certainly can.”

  Leoff forced a chuckle. “Well, I’ll try to keep that in mind. But it is a commission, you know, and from the queen.” He paused, again taking in Artwair’s clothing. In the court he had dressed in brocades and linens. “Are you traveling soon?” he asked.

  “Yes, actually, I’ve just stopped in to tell you good-bye. There’s a bit of trouble in the east I’ve been asked to handle.”

  “More wayward musicians?”

  Artwair shook his head. “No, something a little more demanding, I’m afraid. The queen has asked me take an army there.”

  Leoff’s heart stuttered a beat. “Are we at war? Is it Hansa?”

  “I’m not sure it’s war, and I don’t think its Hansa. Some of the locals have turned into man-eaters, it seems.”

  “What?”

  “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? People running around naked, rending their neighbors limb from limb. At first it was hard to credit, even when the praifec said it was true. Now—well, several villages have been destroyed, but last nineday they killed everyone in Slifhaem.”

  “Slifhaem? I’ve been there. It’s a town of some size, with a fortress.” He paused. “Did you say naked?”

  “That’s how we hear it, and more of them every day. The praifec says it’s some sort of witchery. All I know is, I’m to go and put a stop to it before they go pouring into the Midenlands.”

  Leoff shook his head. “And you’re warning me to have a care.”

  “Well, I’d rather take the field any day and see my death coming on the edge of a sword than die from the nick of a pin or a goblet of poisoned wine here in Eslen,” he said. “Besides, I’ll be strapped in armor with a good sword in my hand and have five hundred excellent men around me. I don’t reckon a bunch of naked madmen will have much chance to do me in.”

  “What if
they have creatures with them, like the basil-nix? What if it’s the Briar King himself driving them on, making them mad?”

  “Well, I’ll kill him, too, for good measure,” Artwair said. “Meantime—ho, what’s this?”

  Leoff watched as Artwair picked up a shawl from the carpet.

  “You’ve been making a few acquaintances, auy?” Artwair said, winking. “The sort that gets comfortable enough to leave things lying about?”

  Leoff smiled. “Not of the sort you mean, I’m afraid. Mery must have left that.”

  “Mery?”

  “One of my students. Lady Gramme’s daughter.”

  Artwair stared at him, then gave a low whistle. “That is interesting company,” Artwair commented.

  “Yes, I got that reaction from the queen, as well,” Leoff said.

  “I should think so.”

  “But she’s a delightful child,” Leoff said, “and an excellent student.”

  Artwair’s eyes widened. “You don’t know who she is?”

  “Yes, I just told you—Ambria Gramme’s daughter.”

  “Auy, but do you know who she is?”

  Leoff had a sudden sinking feeling. “Well—no, not exactly,” he said.

  “You are pleasantly naÏve, Leovigild Ackenzal,” the duke said.

  “A role I’m growing tired of.”

  “Then you might ask a few questions, now and then. The lady Gramme is the girl’s mother, yes. I might better say, she is the daughter of Ambria Gramme and the late King William the Second.”

  Leoff was silent for a moment. “Oh,” he finally said.

  “Yes. You’ve made friends with one of the king’s bastards—not a popular person with the queen, right now.”

  “The poor girl can’t help her birth.”

  “No, of course not. But Lady Gramme is one of many who have visions of a crown in her future, and she isn’t afraid to try anything that might bring that vision to pass. She’s the queen’s bitter enemy. Mery’s lucky she hasn’t met with some sort of . . . accident.”

  Leoff straightened indignantly. “I can’t believe the queen would imagine doing such a thing.”

  “A year ago, I might have agreed with you,” Artwair replied. Now—well, I wouldn’t get too attached to little Mery.”

  Leoff glanced off down the hall, hoping the girl wasn’t within earshot.

  “Ah,” Artwair said. “It’s too late for that, I see.” He walked over and rested his hand on Leoff’s shoulder. “The court is a dangerous place, just now,” he said. “You’ve got to watch what sort of friends you make. If the queen ever suspected you had been drawn into Gramme’s snares—well, then I’d be worried about you experiencing a bad fall.” He lifted his hand. “Take me seriously,” he said. “Keep away from Gramme. Don’t attract her attention.” He showed his teeth. “And wish me luck. If things go well, I’ll be back before Yule.”

  “Best of luck, Artwair,” Leoff said. “I’ll ask the saints to keep you safe.”

  “Auy. But if they don’t, no bloody requiems, please? They’re damn depressing.”

  Leoff watched the duke leave, his heart sinking further. Artwair was the only adult he really knew in Eslen, certainly the only one he might call a friend. After him, there was only Mery.

  And as for that, and Ambria Gramme—Artwair’s warning had come a few hours too late. He had already attracted her attention.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TRUST

  WHEN CAZIO BURST INTO the courtyard, Anne was huddled near the cookfire, patching a shawl. The nights had grown cooler, and she had no money for a new wrap.

  She smiled thinly at Cazio, who seemed—as usual—very pleased with himself.

  “I’ve got a present for you,” he announced.

  “What sort of present?”

  “Ask me nicely, and I’ll tell you.”

  “What sort of present, please?” she said impatiently.

  He frowned. “Is that as nicely as you can manage? I was hoping for something more in the way of a kiss.”

  “Yes, well, without hope, we’d have little to drive us on, would we? If I gave you that kiss, what would you have left to hope for?”

  “Oh, I can imagine a thing or two,” he leered.

  “Yes, but you could never truly hope for them,” she said. Then she sniffed. “Never mind. Unless your present is a new shawl, or a warmer suit of clothes, I doubt that I’ve any need of it.”

  “Oh, no? How does passage on a ship sound?”

  Anne dropped her darning needle. Then she frowned and picked it back up. “Don’t tease,” she said irritably.

  “A fine one you are to talk,” he said.

  “I’ve never—”

  “I’m kidding,” Cazio said. Then, quickly—“Not about the ship. It’s all arranged. Passage for the four of us.”

  “To where?”

  “Paldh. That’s near Eslen, is it not?”

  “Very near,” Anne said. “Near enough. Is this true? You’re not baiting me?”

  “Casnara, I am not. I’ve just spoken to the captain.”

  “And it’s safe?”

  “As safe as we’ll find.”

  Anne blinked at Cazio. After all this time, she’d begun to stop thinking about home, tried to live in the present, to get from one day to the next. But now—

  Her room. Decent clothes. A crackling hearth. Warm baths. Real food.

  Safety.

  She got up and very deliberately planted a kiss right on Cazio’s lips.

  “For this one instant,” she said, “I adore you.”

  “Well,” Cazio said, his voice suddenly a little strained. “How about another, then?”

  She considered. “No,” she said at last, “the moment’s gone. But I’m still grateful, Cazio.”

  “Ah, you’re a fickle one,” Cazio said. “All I’ve done for love of you, and so little in return.”

  Anne laughed and was startled that it felt genuine. “You love me, you love Austra, you love any young thing in a skirt.”

  “There is love, and there is true love,” Cazio replied.

  “Indeed. And I wonder if you will ever know the difference.” She plucked at his sleeve. “I do appreciate your help, though I suspect that the fact that my father will pay—” She stopped suddenly.

  She had forgotten.

  Cazio noticed the change in her features. “Never mind thoughts of pay,” he said. “I’m already the best swordsman in all of Vitellio. I’ve a mind to see if I have a match anywhere else, and your country is as good a place to start as any.”

  Anne nodded, but she was unable to return to the banter.

  “In any event, you should pack your things,” he continued. “This ship leaves in the morning, assuming you still want to take it.”

  “You’re sure it’s safe?”

  “I know the captain. I don’t like him very much, but he’s a man of his word, and utterly trustworthy in a dull sort of way.”

  “Then we have to go,” she said. “We must.”

  At the moment, a cry went up on the street. Anne looked past Cazio and found Ospero standing in the doorway. Outside, she saw men gathered.

  “What’s happening? she asked.

  “They’ve found you again,” Ospero replied. He had a dagger in his hand.

  Neil breathed deeply of the sea air, and for the first time in a long while he felt at home. The language was unfamiliar, the clothing of those around him was strange, and even the scent of the sea was different from the cold, clean spray of Skern or Lier, but it was still the sea.

  “Sit down,” Vaseto said. “You’ll attract attention.”

  Neil looked down at the woman, who sat cross-legged on the stone steps of the sea-guild hall, eating a greasy handful of fried sardines she’d bought from a vendor.

  “In all of this?” he asked, tilting his jaw to indicate the streams and eddies of merchants, sailors, vendors, and vagabonds that surrounded them. He was still wearing his disguise. “I scarcely think we stand out.�
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  “There are others here watching these boats. The reward for your friends is substantial.”

  “I haven’t seen anyone else watching.”

  “That’s because they know what they’re doing,” she replied. “If you appear to be watching the ships, someone will notice that.”

  “I suppose,” he sighed. “I tire of this game of disguise, this tactic of hiding.”

  “Your friends are hiding, with good reason, and they seem to have found a rather good place to hide. There is little more than unreliable rumor on the street as to where they might be.”

  “Maybe they’ve already gone.”

  “I don’t think so,” she replied. “There is some word that they have been seen, and not long ago. If they’re trying to book passage on a ship, here is our best chance. The other watchers are probably working by description. You know the girls and might spot them even if they are disguised. I know Cazio and z’Acatto. That is our advantage.”

  “It still rankles. And we’ve been at it for four days already.”

  “They’ve been here much longer than that.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  “Looking for a ship going the right direction, at a price they can afford. The girls have been seen working.”

  “Working? Both of them?” The princess of Crotheny, working? Anne, working?

  “Yes. As washerwomen, scullery maids, and the like.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Passage on a ship costs money. Coming from the coven, they wouldn’t have much, would they? Perhaps nothing. From what I know of Cazio, he would have none at all, and if he did, z’Acatto would drink it up in short order. It could take them another month or two to earn the fare.”

  “There must be some other way to find them. I can’t wait so long.”

  She licked her finger and gave him a disgusted look. “Take a walk. Pretend to look at the fish, or something. You’re starting to annoy me.”

  “I don’t mean—”

  “Go!” She waved the back of her hand.

  “I’ll check the other ships,” he muttered.

  He walked down the quay, trying to contain his frustration, trying to think of some strategy that Vaseto had not. But he knew little of cities, especially foreign ones and ones of this size. He had never imagined so many people would crowd into one place. Eslen had seemed unimaginably huge to him when he’d first seen it, but z’Espino was so vast, he had trouble comprehending it even when he was in the midst of it.