by Dave Duncan
Displeasure. "Willingly?"
"No, lord," Radgar said calmly. "When I
escaped from the fire, I was abducted by a member
of the Chivian delegation. He deluded me with
lies and betrayed my trust. I was snatched
away to Chivial and locked up in Candlefen
Park, prisoner of my mother's family."
So intently was Wasp analyzing the house
thegns' chain mail and planning how he would go about
killing its wearers that he took a few moments
to register this outrageous falsehood. He hoped
his start of surprise was not noticed.
"Kidnapped?" Cynewulf said. "A member
of our house? This is intolerable! This may be
cause for war. King Ambrose shall hear of our
displeasure."
The shifty eyes and wet lips were those of a
velvet-clad rat trying to bluster at a very
large and hungry dog. Radgar had told the
Faro`edhengest sailors about
Ironhall, so he could not expect to get away
with this Candlefen nonsense for very long, yet he
sailed blithely on over a sea of lies.
"It was King Ambrose who learned of my
predicament and ordered me set free. He
apologized profusely, and I expect his
ambassador will soon deliver a full
apology to your kingly self. As a token of
respect, Uncle, he donated me this
Blade. It is an honor much esteemed in
Chivial, and one I could hardly refuse. As
my lord is aware, Blades have only limited
freedom of action, being compelled to stay in close
attendance upon their wards. His presence here is
unavoidable and not intended to offend."
Having been acknowledged, Wasp made a
token bow, one that barely reached his waist. The
King smirked.
"A Blade? Hardly more than a dagger, by the
look of him. Such a gift should require our
royal approval. But if the lad is your
special friend, he is acceptable to us." He
heaved himself to his feet and addressed the hall.
"This is a happy day for us and our dear queen, for
our shire, and for all of Baelmark!" He held
out his arms to his stepson.
As Radgar sprang up on the dais to accept
the embrace, the onlookers dutifully broke
into cheers. Wasp kept his eyes on the guards,
who had now decided to find him amusing. He did
not know Baelish ways well enough to know what was
amusing or not amusing. Special friend ... that
remark could have been an innocent, even gracious,
dismissal of Radgar's breach of etiquette.
Or it might be a sneer at a young man who
arrived with a boy companion.
Smiling maidens brought drinking horns so
Radgar and his uncle-stepfather could quaff
ceremonial mead. Red hair looked much
better on women than it did on men. If
Wasp was ever going to accept Baels as people, he
would begin with the girls.
"Tonight let the fyrd feast!" Cynewulf
croaked. "Then we shall hear more of our dear son's
ordeal. It may be that we shall take steps
to punish those responsible. Radgar, your mother most
ardently awaits the son she has so long
believed lost to her."
"And eagerly I go to her, lord. But a
duty first. ... By descent from my warrior
ancestors, I claim the right to bear arms and beg
your noble leave to be counted among the fyrd of
Catterstow."
Cynewulf's beard twisted in a foxy
smile. A silent alarm screamed in Wasp's
head, setting his teeth on edge.
"We certainly cannot deny your lineage, Son,
for it is our own. By all means, tonight you will take
the oath. We shall find you a worthy heriot and will
happily accept you as cniht in our hall.
Admission to the fyrd, of course, is not wholly
in our power to grant. But we can help you find a
worthy ship lord to take you foering, so that you
may prove your valor. Ro`edercraeft?"
The man with the golden boar crest on his helmet
thumped his chest in salute and barked, "Lord?"
"Tell me again of this plan for a foering that
you have been bleating in our ears for so long."
"I dared to ask my lord's leave to raise a
werod. So I might accompany my brother
Goldstan. He goes on the foering that my
lord graciously approved."
"Ah, yes. Remind us again of his
objective?"
Ro`edercraeft hesitated a moment before
saying, "Chivial, lord. For slaves and booty.
My lord expressed the opinion that one cannot
expect a treaty to endure so many years--my
lord--without a minor accident now and again. And that we
owed it to our Chivian friends to keep them on their
toes. My lord."
"So we did, so we did!" Cynewulf
smacked his lips. "And if we were to deprive
ourselves, however briefly, of your invaluable
services as our marshal, dear Ro`edercraeft,
would you be willing to admit our nephew to your
werod so that he might display his mettle in the
manly skills of raiding?"
The house thegn turned his helmet toward
Radgar. The face inside it had been assembled
from badly dried bricks. "No werod would ever
turn down a man related to your noble self or
your great warrior son, lord." It was curious that
the marshal aroused no sense of danger in Wasp,
but perhaps he registered as no more than a tool.
Leering, Cynewulf waved him back to his
place. "Then we must give the matter our most
urgent attention. How does that prospect
attract you, Radgar? A chance
to demonstrate that you are your father's son, yes?"
"I am at your lordship's command, always,"
Radgar said with astonishing self-control. Could he
not smell the trap? The stench of it filled the
hall.
"Ravaging the coasts of Chivial would not
disturb you unduly?" Wheezing, Cynewulf
settled himself back on the throne.
"There is no coast I would sooner ravage,
lord. I bear no loyalty to Chivial!"
Cynewulf smiled tolerantly. "We are
delighted to hear it. Cniht, conduct the atheling
to our gracious queen."
Ward and Blade headed for the door. The
audience of thegns was drifting out, arguing and
muttering.
"Well, friend," Radgar said in Chivian,
"now do you understand why I tarried so long on
Starkmoor?"
"We none of us choose our family." Who
would expect the King of the Baels to be a
benevolent monarch?
"One week!" Radgar's voice was soft but his
green eyes shone with fury. "Just one week! Can
you keep me alive for a week?"
"I was planning longer than that."
"I should never have brought you here, but if you can stand
it for a week, then we can leave and find somewhere
sane to live. Oh, that rogue! That carrion!
Did you hear him?" This was the first private
conversation the two of them had shared since the morning
they met Aylwin.
"He's going to make you a squire?"
"A cniht is lower than a squire, not much
more than a page. That doesn't matter!" It
did matter--his laugh was bitter. "I'll
shave the freckles off them in sword
practice!"
"The oath?"
"No, no! The oath is nothing. He has
to swear to be worthy of my service. He never was
and never will be. I mean, didn't you see his
reaction?"
"You lied to him."
"And he knew I was lying! He was expecting
a different story."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You know him better than I do."
They had reached the hearths and Aylwin, who was
seething, teeth grinding, hooves pawing the turf.
He fell into step alongside Radgar.
"Goldstan! Goldstan? He's going to give you
to that Goldstan ni`eding? You're a
Faro`edhengest man! You're one of us, one of
Leofric's werod!"
"He's another friend of Wulfwer?"
"Yea!" The sailor waved a fist like a
mace. "Trustworthy as a stone boat."
"So Radgar goes off foering with
Ro`edercraeft and Goldstan," Wasp said,
"and of course I accompany my ward. Baelmark
never hears more of us?"
Aylwin ignored him.
Radgar said, "Did you discover why he's
holding court?"
"He's expecting the earls. The witenagemot
is meeting."
Aylwin had spoken with no great interest, but
Radgar whistled in astonishment. "Spirits of chance
are playing tricks!"
"Good or bad?" Wasp demanded. Blades were
naturally suspicious of coincidences.
"I don't know. If you think the thegns are
tough, my waspish friend, wait until you meet the
earls!"
"Tougher?"
"They handle bears with bare hands."
Beyond the doors, in dazzling sunlight at the
base of the steps, Leofric waited with a group of
dignitaries. The square had filled up as word
of Radgar's return spread through the town.
"Some witan eager to pay their respects,
Atheling," Leofric said. "Of course you
remember Ealdor--"
"No, no! I am only a cniht who had
a famous father. Present me to them."
The ship lord shrugged, but obviously approved.
"Ealdor, you remember Atheling Radgar?"
The first man to be presented was not the oldest.
He must originally have been tall, but his back had
curved so much that he had great difficulty looking
anywhere but straight down. He twisted his head
around to smile sideways at Radgar.
"Welcome, oh, welcome, son of Aeled!"
Radgar dropped to his knees and held up
both hands. "Ceolmund Ceollafing!
How could I forget my father's chancellor and noble
predecessor? I am your servant, ealdor."
"Nay, lad, I hope I can soon be
yours!"
"Dangerous talk!" Radgar made no effort
to rise or release the older man's hands. "But
if you promise never to cuff my ears again as you
used to do, then I shall promise never to cuff yours
--in spite of oaths I swore several
hundred times."
"Oh, boy, this is a happy day, for that is
your father's smile to the life! You cannot begin
to guess how we miss your father! Or how
welcome you are, back from the dead." The former
earl tugged at Radgar to rise. He lowered his
voice to a husky whisper. "But take care,
take care, Atheling!"
A couple of house thegns had drifted
close, watching and listening. Few in the group had
noticed them. Wasp did not care if the upper
crust of Catterstovian society chose
to reveal dangerous loyalties, but too much
loose talk might increase the risk to Radgar.
As his ward was about to be presented to the second
wita, he spoke up loudly. "The Queen is
waiting, Atheling."
Leofric took in the situation at a glance.
"He is right. A loving mother must take
precedence. Will you meet with us when she gives you
dismissal?"
"If I may take my leave now,
ealdras, I shall greet every one of you with proper
respect then," Radgar told the group--and then
made a fast round of them right there, clasping each
hand briefly and speaking the man's name. After so
many years, it was an impressive display of
memory.
He turned quickly to the cniht the King had
sent to escort him--a lanky youth with brown
eyes and the start of a brownish beard. He would have
attracted no notice in Chivial and looked quite
human to Wasp, so he probably regarded himself
as seriously deformed.
"Raedwald, isn't it?" Radgar said,
winning a huge grin. "Last time I booted your
butt, you were only half that size. Lead the
way, please." With the witan's good wishes ringing
in his ears, he strode off at a steaming pace
around the side of the great hall.
Wasp hurried after. "You still thinking of
leaving? They're all determined to make you king."
"Yes, I'm leaving!"
"You're just saying that because you think you're putting
me in danger! Well, that's what a Blade's
for--to be first up--and I won't let you run
away from your duty and destiny on my account. That
may be exactly what Ambrose had in mind
when--"
Radgar laughed and thumped his shoulder. "No,
no! That isn't it. I would never throw your life
away, friend, but neither will I ever insult you
by refusing to take any risks at all. That would
waste the sacrifice you made when you chose
to become a Blade. Being king isn't possible--
the old men just haven't thought it through yet. It's
even worse than I thought. First I'd have
to become a thegn, and Cynewulf would make sure
I died in training. If I did survive,
I'd need a ship of my own and a werod to man
it. That takes massive amounts of money, and he
controls all my inheritance. Supposing I
lived through the foering and managed to establish a
suitably gory reputation, I'd still have
to challenge Wulfwer. You heard what happens
to men who even think about doing that."
Young Raedwald, having explained the
visitors to the guards on the gate, was leading them
through the palace complex, a maze of covered
walkways, lawns, shrubbery, trees, and
free-standing buildings--kitchens, storerooms, and
isolated sleeping quarters. The teeming boys and
women carrying linens or provisions stepped
aside to let swordsmen pass, bowing low if their
burdens permitted, but Wasp was seeing so many
opportunities for ambush that he could barely
follow Radgar's argument.
"The lands alone will kill me."
"What lands?"
The last thing they needed was more
motive to worry about.
"You didn't hear my dear uncle offering to hand
over my inheritance, did you? Not likely! Even
if he can't hold the throne much longer, that
doesn't mean he's going to die. All he need
do is refuse the challenge and retire
to private life to enjoy himself. Kings get rich
in Baelmark, and the war made Dad very rich. So
you just keep me alive for a day or two, my
trusty Blade, while I find out who killed
him. Then I'll tie you up so you can't interfere
when I peel him down to the bones. After
that we'll sail away."
"Fob your grandma!" Wasp said. Tie him
up! "You want to be king and you'll die trying.
You going to refuse Leofric? All those men who
carried you shoulder high, who stood at your backs
just now in the hall? You going to leave them
to Cynewulf? I don't think your father would have
done that."
"My father did nothing rashly. "When you hunt
the wolf remember the she-wolf"--that was his
motto. If I tried to follow this trail, my
lad, it wouldn't just be the she-wolf circling back
on me. It would be a whole pack. I'm only
a boy who knows nothing about the business of ruling.
The thegns are ashamed of their earl and hope to use
me to depose him. Leofric, Ceolmund, and
their friends were men of power under my father, and
Cynewulf has shut them out. They think they can
get back in. None of them want me,
Wasp. They all just expect to use me and I
refuse to be used!"
"Then I suggest--"
Without warning a monster shape loomed up ahead
and Wasp hurled Radgar aside and whipped
Nothing from her scabbard. ...
False alarm. The apparition was only a team
of four big men laboring under the weight of a
dressed ox carcase. Filthy and unkempt,
wearing only a single grubby rag apiece, they
staggered on by without even glancing aside. The
blankness of their faces made Wasp's flesh
crawl. If the raiders at Haybridge had
found the badger hole, he would now be a mindless
wretch like them. That might be his fate even yet.
Would it be possible to enthrall a Blade? The
two enchantments were mutually incompatible, so one
would negate the other; but he knew of no way
to determine which would prevail without actually trying
it.
Angry at himself, he sheathed his sword and
turned to check on his ward, who fortunately had
landed on grass and was still lying there, watching him with