by Dave Duncan
he would not have touched them. Now enlighten me. Am
I to understand that the whole unfortunate scene at my
marriage was all my fault? Is that why you have
virtually ignored me all these years? Disowned
me?"
The ambassador scowled at Radgar, as if
contemplating ordering him out of the room. "It was not
your fault originally, but by failing to defend your
honor you shamed us all."
"Oh, did I?" Mom was dangerously mad
now, foot tapping audibly on the rug. "I'd
say it was my menfolk who failed to defend it for
me. Who tried to sell me to a leprous,
lecherous old goat. Who failed to take
adequate precautions only a few weeks after
the sack of Ambleport. Who lacked the
beallucas even to send me good wishes on my
birthdays in case the inquisitors thought they were
some sort of treason in code."
For a moment there was silence. The ambassador
had apparently been struck speechless.
"I do hope," his sister continued, "that I am
not to be held responsible for the war itself? Like
What's-her-name being carried off in a thousand ships
and the siege of Wherever-it-was?"
"Go outside, boy," the Chivian said.
"You stay right here, Radgar."
"Yes, Mother."
"Anything you have to say, Rodney, may be said
before my son. He is somewhat involved in this
discussion of his legitimacy."
Her brother was growing redder than ever. "Am
I to understand that you have no wish to be returned to your
family?"
"You understand correctly. However would you stand the
disgrace of having a pirate's castoff slave
underfoot? Aeled has been a model husband,
loving, faithful, and generous. I do not approve
of the manner of his wooing, but I have come to admire
him and love him dearly, and my only regret
at this stage is that I was unable to bear him more
sons as fine as this one." She was sailing close
to the wind now, because he had heard her describe
Father in much less flattering terms right to his
face. Quite frequently, in fact. Nor had
Radgar ever been a model son before. "The last
time anyone asked me that question was when your
predecessor came bringing threats of war
unless I was packaged up and shipped home.
Aeled offered to let me go and give me a chest
full of treasure to take with me. I refused
because it--"
"I should hope so!" the ambassador wheezed.
"Having raped you, he would give you money and
make you a whore?"
"Had I accepted it would have meant his death and
we both knew it. I had learned by then what
manner of man chance had given me. You may not be
able to understand the concept of greatness, but I assure
you--"
Lord Candlefen hauled himself to his feet.
"There is nothing more to discuss. Clearly I need
not consider your plight during the negotiations."
"Plight?" Mother yelled. "You sit down,
Rodney. Sit! I have not finished correcting
your contorted and misguided illusions. We shall also
discuss the matter of my inheritance now. Radgar,
wait outside."
His Lordship did not sit down. Radgar still had
hold of his temper, but only by the tip of its
tail. Perhaps Mother had guessed that. He was not
lucky with uncles.
"As you wish, mistress," he said. "Your
Excellency, I wish we could have met under more
favorable--"
"Radgar!"
"Let me finish, Mother. My lord, if you had
thought to ask in the streets here you would have learned that
my mom is cheered wherever she goes. I've seen
warriors who sacked Chivian cities, seized
its ships, waded in blood"--he was trying not
to shout now--"watched them honor her most humbly
and willingly, my mom, because she's the honored
queen of this land and any treaty that says she has
to go home won't get a single vote in the
moot, not one! You ask anyone! All over
Baelmark when they say, seo hloefdige, which
means "the lady," they mean my--"
"Radgar!"
"Yes, Mom." He made a leg and stalked
to the door. When he shut the door behind him, he
leaned back against it for a moment, shaking
violently. He had not lost his dragon
temper, although he might be going to have the sick
reaction that always followed it. He thought he had
done quite well under the circumstances. Not a bad
speech! He struggled to calm his breathing.
Oh!--he had an audience.
The corridor was gloomy and stuffy, the only
window being at the far end. On his right, the top of the
staircase was hidden behind Frecful and Hengest,
Boehtric and Ordlaf--his bodyguards and
Mother's--who together represented enough meat to feed all
the wolves of Skyrria for a month. On his other
side, the ambassador's swordsman leaned
against the wall with his back to the light and the unruffled
confidence of a cat looking down at four hungry
dogs from the top rail of a safely high fence.
Radgar bowed. "I am Radgar Aeleding.
Welcome to Baelmark, my lord."
The foreigner returned the bow gracefully.
"Geste is my name, Your Highness. I am
honored indeed to be greeted by the King's son, for
I am a mere knight, no lord." He smiled but
his eyes never left the other men.
"Don't worry about them. They're only
dangerous when they're sober. You're a Blade?
I've heard about Blades." He could believe
the stories when he looked at this soft-spoken
tiger. He was small by the standards of the Catterstow
fyrd and yet there was an unmistakable aura of
menace about him.
"Ah, well, I was a Blade. Now I'm
not, not in the way you mean, just a knight in the
Order. I'm no longer bound to a ward, that is."
"But that's a cat's-eye sword? May I
see it?"
"Some other time, very willingly, Highness. At
the moment it's on duty." Still the dark eyes
watched the four bulls.
"Please call me Radgar. We don't have
Highnesses in Baelmark, just lownesses like those
four." He was amused by the scowls of frustration
on the thegns' faces. They must know just enough
Chivian to tell he was making fun of them.
"Pity. I was hoping the next king of
Baelmark would be half Chivian."
"The present king already is. I'm
three-quarters, a mean and nasty mongrel. I
think you're going to be out of a job very shortly."
For the first time Geste glanced right at him. He
was amused. "And why is that?"
"Even as you stand here, my mother is tearing your
ward limb from limb."
The Blade chuckled. "She's
outside my jurisdiction."
The door flew open and his jurisdiction came
lumbering out, almost
knocking Radgar over. He
paused to glare down at his nephew.
"So you're Radgar?"
"And you're Uncle Rodney." The dragon
temper twitched again.
"Well, lad, I'll say this--I was quite
pleasantly surprised. Your mother has taught you
some manners."
"You may be more surprised in future. My
father is teaching me to fight."
Sir Geste uttered a loud guffaw. Even the
four walruses chuckled, probably judging more
by actions and reactions than words. Lord Candlefen
glared and marched away. They stepped aside to let
him pass.
The Blade sighed. "Duty calls. My
respects to your royal parents, Prince
Radgar." He bowed, less deeply than before,
and strode off after the ambassador. The glowering
watchdogs let him through and he did not spare them
a glance.
Radgar went back into the room. "Mother?"
"Go away." She was standing at the window,
looking out. He realized that she was weeping.
"But, Mother--"
"Go away, please, Radgar." She did not
turn to him. "I'll be all right."
He wondered if he should run and find Father,
then decided it would be very foolish. He'd seen
her weep often enough before. "Yes, Mother."
He stepped out into the corridor and closed the
door. "The Queen wishes to not be disturbed!" he
informed Boehtric and Ordlaf. Being two of
Dad's house thegns, trained and run by Marshal
Leofric, they were good men.
Frecful and Hengest, being Wulfwer's
cronies, were not. Whatever else might happen that
afternoon, no one would need or want Radgar Atheling
for anything until at least sundown and the feast in the
hall, probably not much even then. He opened the
door opposite and went in, slamming it behind him
confidently. Wulfwer knew his cousin's little
ways, but Beauty and the Beast should not be a problem.
Fortunately the room was not presently
occupied, but he almost gagged at the reek. A
dozen bunks were stacked in the tiny
space and the owners had not washed their blankets in
generations. He plodded over a thick litter of
discarded clothing to the window, which was exactly like the
small dormer he had inspected earlier,
except that it faced south, of course. The
vertical bar dividing the opening made it a tight
squeeze even for him, but he pulled himself up and
wriggled out feet first, having to turn sideways
to get his hips and shoulders through.
He sat on the sill with his feet on the
shingles and wondered how much of a splat he would
make if he slipped and fell all the way to the
ground. Would he just splatter blood on the road
or up on the walls of the houses too? He must
ask someone. Thegns should know because topmen must fall
out of rigging sometimes. Heights had never bothered
him and he would be a great topman on his first few
foerings, before he became a ship lord, and although
Mother would certainly shriek if she saw him now,
he was in no danger--his toes were at least two
feet from the edge.
He had a fine view southward to the long
North Channel where he had sailed Groeggos
earlier, and he could see more dragon ships
approaching the port. In the distance Cwicnoll was
a hazy mass, looking more symmetrically
cone-shaped than it did from Waro`edburh. He
worked his way sideways, clear of the dormer, then
scrambled on all fours up the roof to the ridge.
There he found a slight breeze at last. Now
all the world was spread out all around him under a
cloudless blue sky--the tiny dots circling high
up must be fish eagles, and gulls watched him
curiously as they floated by. The town, the
cliffs, two harbors, Swi@thaefen's shiny
waters, and the grayer expanse of ocean northward
... The shingles were hot under his hands and
buttocks, but smoothed and silvered by many years of
weather, speckled with bird droppings, even
mossy in places. A few buildings away some
ceorls were repairing a roof. He waved to them and
they waved back. Last year there had been a big
hole in the town where a dozen houses had burned,
but it seemed to have been rebuilt already.
If anything in life was certain, it was that
Hengest and Frecful could not work their shoulders through
that window; not even far enough to put their chins 'round the
corner and see where he was now. When they discovered
he had eluded them, their tiny minds would expect
him to head for the stables and Isgicel, so
he wouldn't. He had been assuming he would have
to wait out here for them to leave, but now he saw that
another of the palace buildings abutted this one at
right angles, its roof only a few feet lower
and equally well supplied with dormers. All the
shutters would be open on this sweltering day, so he
could go and find another staircase. He walked
along the ridge to the end, scrambled down almost to the
eave, and stepped over onto the other wing. Then it
was merely a matter of finding an open window and
slithering inwards, although that proved to be trickier
than coming out. The room he had found was a sleeping
chamber with some fairly decent furniture in
it--and he had a sudden worry that the door might
be locked, but it wasn't.
He trotted downstairs, passed the guards
on the gate without challenge, and set off
to explore the town, starting with the north port.
Despite Dad's warnings about kidnapping, he
was certain no one would take that risk just yet.
Once everyone saw where the talks were headed, then
the weaker side might resort to violence. Not
today.
It did not occur to him that there might be more than
two sides.
As the sun dipped down behind the western wall
of the canyon, he came trailing back to the
palace compound. He was admitted when the
Catterstow house thegns among the guards on the
gate vouched for him; they gave him directions to the
royal lodging. He was hot, weary, and more than
a little nauseated. An hour earlier he had
discovered a woman peddling marvelous honey
cakes with raspberry custard in them, and had offered
a silver sceatt for as many as he could eat on the
spot, which had turned out to be eight. While
wondering what excuse he could give to stay away
from the coming feast, he managed to get lost in the
maze of high buildings. He knew he had found
his destination when he saw Leofric himself standing
outside a door talking to house thegn Ordlaf,
who looked like a giant lobster in chain mail and
steel helmet. Except lobsters didn't
sweat.
The marshal acknowledged the atheling with a nod and a
studied frown. "You feeling all righ
t, lad?"
There were times--many times--when Aylwin's dad
seemed to see better with one blue eye than other
men did with two good green ones. When the boys
had been small, they had believed his claim that the
emerald on his silver patch let him read their
thoughts. Even now, Radgar sometimes wondered.
"Ate too many cakes, ealdor." Minor
sins were best confessed right away, especially those
that had brought their own penance.
The thegn was less amused than expected.
"Wulfwer was looking for you."
"Wulfwer couldn't find his face in a
mirror. Can't think why he'd want to, of
course."
This time the frown was more serious. "I have seen the
thegn soaked in blood within a circle of dead
Chivians he has slain. I've seen him
turn a battle around single-handed. What feats
do you set against those? Have you wounds to show, loot
to flaunt? Is your birth so much more noble than
Wulfwer Atheling's that you are entitled to mock
him?"
Yes! Wulfwer was thrall-born. Besides,
since dumpy Cynewulf had never fathered any
other children, plenty of people thought hulking Wulfwer
couldn't be his spawn anyway. But Leofric was
Dad's best friend, the only man in the kingdom who
could give the King's son a thorough thrashing and be
sure of the King's blessing on it. He'd done it
before and was capable of doing it again, by force if need
be.
"Sorry, Uncle."
The eyepatch glinted. "Are you still a child that you
call me uncle and play stupid tricks?"
"No, Marshal. I was foolish. I will go
to Atheling Wulfwer at once and set his mind at
rest." Shouldn't be difficult--his mind was never
very active.
Leofric set his jaw for a moment before he
decided to accept that apology without further comment.
"Top floor. We found you a room to yourself."
"I am honored." It would be in character for
Wulfwer to snore like a pig.
"With very small windows."
"Oh."
Leofric hesitated, glancing briefly at
the listening Ordlaf. He did not want the story
generally known, obviously. "I should report to your
father."
"He has a lot on his mind just now,
ealdor."
"Yes, so I won't if you give me your
word."
Radgar managed a bow, which his overfull
belly did not enjoy. "I promise I'll be
a good boy."
"I suppose there's a first time for everything," the