by Dave Duncan
briefly at Wasp as if to judge what he was
thinking, then said, "I told you, the last I saw
of my beloved cousin, he was heading for the
Cweornstanas. What did he do--walk on
water?"
"Never heard anything about that." The thegn
screwed up his face in thought. "And if he
looked any cleaner than usual, I was too
upset about you to notice. Don't recall seeing
him at your funeral, but Cynewulf swore him
in as tanist very soon after. Two days maybe."
"And how many ambitious thegns have challenged
dear Wulfie?"
Aylwin looked more abashed than ever. "Give
him his due, Radgar. If you believe the tanist
should be the shire's best fighter--and lots do ...
I don't say we don't have one or two that could
beat him. ... He's nobody's pushover."
"He would be for me."
His friend blinked. "Truly?"
"Guaranteed. And Wasp here could take him with
both feet in one boot. Couldn't you, Wasp?"
Wasp said nothing.
Aylwin belched luxuriously. "Challenge
is usually done with swords, but incumbent gets
choice of weapons. How would your little cniht friend
do with axes? Or bare hands?"
"Ah! Forgot that." Radgar grinned
ruefully. "Not well."
Aylwin emptied his stein and wiped his mouth with a
tattered sleeve. "Your cousin isn't
married. He's sired a few thrall-born, but
no usable heirs--wise of him, maybe? He and
his father are the last of the Catterings, and when they go
Catterstow may never produce another king of
Baelmark again."
Wasp slid his untouched tankard across to the
Bael and took the empty one. He was torn.
At times he could see the sailor as Radgar's
childhood friend and appreciate his good
qualities--loyalty, probably tenacity, a
certain na@ivet`e, eagerness to please. His
bovine manner was affectation, the pose of the
warrior who regards thinking as unmanly.
Despite the width of his neck, he had brains
above it, although his interests would always be
practical, never philosophical, and he would
value courage well ahead of moral insight.
He was sorely in need of a bath, but he had
probably been working like a mule for days. He was
not unlike Bullwhip, in fact--dull but
utterly reliable.
Without warning the view would make a bewildering
shift and leave Wasp looking at an animal.
Loyalty became ruthlessness, tenacity greed, and
that eagerness to please just rank ambition. How many
rapes, thefts, and murders had this ape committed?
If asked, would he deny them or brag of them?
Worse, Wasp could see Radgar's fascination
--there but for the grace of Ironhall went the son
of Aeled. He wanted to scream a warning, and he
knew that any word from him would only increase the
danger.
Radgar was obviously making adjustments to the
conclusions of five years' brooding. "I
underestimated Healfwer's skills. He must have
proofed Wulfwer against water just as well as he
proofed me against fire. Maybe the brute did
walk home! How often do I have to kill him?"
The serving maid strolled meaningfully across the
yard to flick a cloth over another table and
Radgar nodded to her to refill the steins.
"Tell me again," Aylwin growled,
"exactly what happened that night."
"Someone killed my parents, bolted me in my
bedroom, and set the house on fire."
"My dad was marshal," Aylwin said with enough
menace to raise Wasp's hackles. "You're
saying he let a murderer in?"
Radgar flashed his most appealing grin.
"Looking at all those expensive
muscles of yours, old friend, I would never say
anything so suicidal. I think I can narrow it
down to four people. One was Swetmann, or someone in
his war party. It was too late to stop the peace
treaty, but he was ambitious and he must have known that
the witan would never back him against Dad. I
don't have a clue how he could have got past the
guards."
"No strangers got past my dad!"
"Then how about Wulfwer? His bootlickers were
ready to swear he never left the hall. Did they
return too--Hengest and Frecful?"
"Haven't seen them in years." Aylwin
scratched his scalp busily. "Don't recall
any scandal or accusations. Someone must have paid off
their families."
"Cynewulf, I'm sure. But Wulfwer's
an excellent suspect, because he hated me and
he knew which was my room. We were sure to be
rivals when I got older--why let me get
older? He got to be tanist, so he gained from
Dad's death too."
"We can ask my dad if Wulfwer went in.
Who's next?"
"Good King Cynewulf. He escorted my
mother and me home, so we know he was in there. He
gained more than anyone--he got to be king."
"He also ..." Aylwin said and stopped.
"Also what?"
"Later. Who's the fourth?"
"Good King Ambrose."
"Not personally, I hope?" Aylwin said
skeptically.
"Not personally," Radgar agreed.
At that moment the serving maid returned with
three foaming steins. The thegn lifted the one
Wasp had given him and drained it in one
incredibly long draft, his throat working like a
smith's bellows. The others watched in
fascinated disbelief. He hardly seemed short
of breath when he finished and handed the empty
tankard to the girl. She fluttered her lashes
at him and he awarded her a smile and a slap on
the rump. Her obvious approval of this form of
approval made Wasp wonder if it would work for
him or if it required conjured muscles.
"Then how?" Aylwin inquired. "Ambrose?"
"He sent a Blade along with the embassy,
although I suspect he'd promised not to--and a
Blade who was very close to him, who used
the name Geste. The Blades had a score
to settle with my father. Have you heard anything about such
a man?"
"No." Aylwin's former menace was back.
"Just how do you say a Chivian would have gotten
in?"
"He may have had ways."
"Such as precisely?"
Radgar looked to Wasp to see if he wanted
to comment, but Wasp was as much in the dark as Aylwin.
"Invisibility."
"Whale shit." Aylwin took another drink.
"I think I agree," Wasp said.
"Possibly." This time Radgar spoke
to Wasp. "The night before Wolfbiter was bound,
I had a long chat with Snake and picked up
all the court gossip. There's a rumor going
around that the college has perfected an
invisibility cloak. Granted, even if they have
one now they may not have had it five years ago.
But there was something very odd about the
way Yorick
crept up on us in the coaster that night. He
appeared on deck almost as if he-- Well, no
matter. Just say that Ambrose has access to very
powerful conjurements. If anyone could have smuggled
an assassin past the house thegns it would be the
King of Chivial, yes? I can't see what his
motive would be except personal spite, which is
not usually a reason for a triple murder. Why
include me in it? Kings usually like having
relatives among foreign royalty. But those are
the suspects--Swetmann and the Bloods as my
father called them, Wulfwer, Cynewulf, or
Sir Yorick with the connivance of his King."
"I'm really glad you're alive, Radgar
Aeleding."
"Thank you, Aylwin Leofricing."
"There's something I must tell you. You've got
one thing very wrong about that night. Wench! More beer!"
"Have mine." Again Wasp pushed his stein over.
The thegn spared him another brief look of
contempt and again drained the tankard in a single
draft. He seemed to have unlimited capacity.
"What did I get wrong?" Radgar
demanded.
Somewhere--it seemed to Wasp--a hunting horn
played a warning call, as if danger
approached. It was only a hunch, of course, but
he sprang to his feet an instant before a
swordsman strode into the yard.
From his silver-buckled boots all the way up
to the white plume in his hat, he was an imposing
figure, and two of the establishment's male
flunkies came fawning in his wake. The hilt
of his sword was gilded and bejeweled--from the look
of the scabbard it was a falchion, a broad blade
with a sharp taper at the end, possibly handy enough in
a shipboard melee but not long enough to pose much
threat to a good rapier man. The silver eyepatch
bearing a sizable emerald identified him
instantly as Aylwin's father, Ship Lord
Leofric, formerly King Aeled's best friend and
marshal. He came marching toward his son with a
disapproving frown that only deepened when his glance
took in Wasp.
"What are you doing in here? I told you to--"
Radgar turned around on his stool.
"Aeled!"
"Remember me, "uncle"?"
"Radgar! Oh, Radgar! Atheling!" The big
man started to fold down on his knees. His
sailor's tan showed like paint over his pallor,
and his one eye seemed ready to jump right out of his
head. Before he could kneel, Radgar leaped up and
caught his arms, pulling him into a hug.
The hunting horns trilled again, and now Wasp
could hear the baying of hounds as well. Either
Leofric was the traitor who had opened the door
to the assassins--although just looking at the man made
that seem beyond belief--or he was the best advisor
and helper Radgar could have, his father's most trusted
confidant. If he seemed a threat, it was because
he would try to lure Radgar home. Friends were more
dangerous than enemies at the moment.
Aylwin glared at the waiters. "Wine!" he
shouted. "Red wine for the ship lord! And three more
beers."
Radgar reluctantly let Leofric kiss
his hand and tell him several times how like his father he
looked. The big man did not know whether to laugh
or weep with joy. He could not possibly be
faking that emotion!
Then they all pulled up stools and Radgar
told his story all over again. The ship lord sat
in rocky stillness, staring at him fixedly, showing
no reaction whatsoever. Aylwin had sunk
into smiling, beery bliss. At the end
of the tale, when Wasp was explained, Leofric
nodded acknowledgment. Unlike his son, he
approved of a Blade.
"It sounds as if you had no need of binding
to make you loyal to your friend, Sir Wasp. You
may have your work cut out for you in future, I
fear."
Wasp bristled. "Will you be more specific,
please, ealdor?"
The older man took his first sip of wine.
"Political ambition in my homeland has
become a dangerous business. I will quote you
cases later, Sir Wasp." The blue eye and
green jewel turned to Radgar again. "You're
taller, slimmer. But astonishingly like Aeled!"
"I am a lesser man all 'round, uncle."
Leofric shook his head. "Not "uncle"
now, Atheling. Please call me thegn, for I
dearly crave to be your man as I was your father's.
I was never entirely convinced that his death was an
accident and now your tale brings back my grief
tenfold. I shall know no peace until we have
avenged my lord and friend and put you on the throne of
your ancestors."
"Well said!" Aylwin proclaimed, somewhat
loudly. "This sou'westerly keeps up, we can
make lan'fall in four days."
"Three!"
Radgar was shaking his head. "I am not ready for
such talk, ealdor. No, let me call you
that, for you must be my wita as you were my father's.
Continue your foering to Skyrria. I beg
you. If you have room for a couple of green hands,
then I should be grateful, although neither of us will pull
his weight. You can drop us off here when you return
and pick us up on your next voyage, perhaps."
Seeing protest brewing, he became insistent.
"I have been entombed these last five and half
years, ealdor! I need to get some living in
before I show my face in Baelmark. I am young.
There is time."
No. Closer came the danger--horns,
hounds, drumming of hooves. ...
Bright spears of sunlight lanced from the silver
eye patch. "You do not have that luxury, lad.
Four people were mourned after that fire--four in that
house, I mean, for it spread and claimed other
lives. Two of the dead were house thegns, who
refused my orders and forced their way by me. It was
a hopeless quest, because if the
Hlaford Fyrlandum had not survived, then
what could mere men do? But you know the code of a
house thegn."
"Four?" Radgar had become very still.
The single eye glinted. "Aye, lad. The
other two were you and your father. We thought he'd gone
to save you. The heat was so intense after the house
collapsed that we found hardly a bone."
Aylwin trumpeted another fanfare belch.
"Your mom escaped. Unharmed. She's still
alive."
That was it--the danger Wasp had sensed
approaching. The hunt had closed on its prey,
slobbering jaws and flashing swords. ...
Radgar made several attempts before he
managed to speak. "Where is she?"
Father and son exchanged glances. Aylwin said,
"In Catterstow. She's still queen. She married
your uncle."
When Wasp could stand the silence no longer he
said, "Can you think of any reason why dear
Ambrose did
n't mention this to you, Radgar? He
must know. She is still his cousin."
YORICK
VII
That was a good question. The air was full of good
questions, but four days passed before Wasp received
answers to even one of them. By then
Faro`edhengest had entered the sheltered
lagoons of Swi@thaefen through the Leaxmu`ed
narrows. The blue-green sail with its white
horse emblem hung limp in a dead calm, and
he could lean back against the side and enjoy watching
sixty Baels streaming sweat while they heaved
on oars and bellowed out lewd rowing songs.
They did not bother him now as much as they had at
first. He had come to think of them as just dangerous
animals--wolves or wild boars. No
matter that his eyes told him they were men, no
better or worse, no more clean or filthy,
crass or cultured, than could be expected of
any other gang of healthy, mostly young,
sailors confined in an open boat. Even knowing that
they were all well-disposed toward his ward, he still
felt only contempt for them as people. The
contempt was mutual. Leofric had warned the
whole werod that the Chivian cniht was a
Blade and any roughhousing with Radgar Atheling
might trigger fatal reactions. He had made
Wasp sound like a poorly trained guard dog.
Fishing boats sat on reflected hills and
islets; green slopes bearing farms and
villages swept back to wooded hills. It was
an idyllic scene, but over it brooded the
smoking peak of Cwicnoll--white against a sky
of perfect blue, whose only cloud was the one over
the mountain itself. Before dawn it had glowed red; by day
it was almost too white to look upon. Periodically
it rumbled.
In an hour or so Radgar would be reunited with
his mother, and that idyll was overhung by worse
dangers than a mere volcano. Just by being
alive, and even more by being married to King
Cynewulf, she changed the battlefield. Would
she push her son forward as heir apparent under the
crazy Baelish rules of succession? The
sinister Cousin Wulfwer was alive, too.
Radgar still protested that he had no royal
ambitions, but even Wasp found that hard
to believe. His friends and his family and his father's
killers must all have plans for his future--or
lack of one.
But had the assassin been a Bael?
Ambrose had known more than he should or less
than he should. He had let slip that odd remark
about a missing atheling. If he had sent Yorick