by Dave Duncan
“You will be reinstated in the Order. Lend me your sword, Commander.”
Beau sank to his knees. Sir Florian’s sword tapped his shoulders and the King almost threw it back to its owner. This was mere formality, not ritual, because Beau’s binding had ended with his ward’s death.
“Rise, Sir Beaumont. We need a consul for the southern Isilondian city of Mardeau. Consular salaries are modest, but the perquisites let the incumbents live like, um, gentlemen. It is reputed to be a very pleasant place, and has the laudable advantage of being very far away. Have you ever been there, Lady Beaumont?”
“No, sire. But I have a brother there who tells good tales of it.”
“Beaumont?”
“Your Majesty is most generous. I am deeply honored.”
“So you should be. You have our leave to withdraw.” King Athelgar turned his back and gave his wife a now-are-you- satisfied? scowl.
In its own mysterious fashion, the Guard had heard the news, even to knowing that Arkell was restored and Oak avenged. A dozen Blades pounced on Beau the moment he left the garden—back-thumping, hand-wringing, congratulating.
Sir Calvert proffered Just Desert in formal fashion, across his forearm. “If you drop by Ironhall, I’m sure that Master Armorer will find a suitable cat’s-eye to fit.”
Sir Cedric laughed. “It’s probably been in Grand Master’s pocket all this time.”
“Let the man go,” said Sir Modred. “Can’t you see he has more urgent business to attend to than listening to our chatter?” Faces leered knowingly at Isabelle.
“I do have to meet my daughter,” Beau said. He offered Isabelle his arm and set off along the corridor, humming a happy tune while his wife silently whetted her gutting knife. “I don’t think I will,” he said. “Change the pommel, I mean. The pebble brought me luck and a cat’s-eye won’t make any difference if we go to live in Isilond.” He slid his arm around her as they turned the first corner. “You are happy about this Mardeau?”
“The climate is said to be clement.” Mardeau was not the problem!
“I always told you Tasha was all right.”
And who did he think had made Tasha see reason?
“I’ll be happy wherever you are, my love.” His voice was throaty, his grip tight around her. “We can do anything we want now. We won’t ever have to eat in the kitchens again! You don’t ever have to cook.”
“I enjoy cooking,” she said through clenched teeth.
He chuckled. “Just dessert, then.”
Back at the room, they found Maude still asleep. Beau flashed Maisie a smile that turned her pink to the tips of her ears, bolted the door behind her, and fumbled with the ties on his pack. “Remember I promised you gowns and some small jewels?” He pulled out a leather sack and tipped a river of gold out on the bed beside the sword he had left there. It was a fortune. It would buy a farm, or a hostel, or a fencing school. For a moment Isabelle was stunned. And then the hurt returned, worse than ever.
“For services rendered, I assume? Yeoman service! You must have pleasured her greatly!”
“My love?” Beau said warily.
“Yes, your love!” she shouted. “Czarina Sophie!”
Isabelle knew Tasha very well now and no doubt Tasha knew her sister. Tasha was not quite certain—she had been probing—but obviously the Czarina had dropped a hint or two of what had been going on.
“You are my love, Lady Beaumont…” Beau advanced with carnal intent.
“Don’t touch me!” she said, backing away. “Is she so very beautiful?” Soft hands, white skin. Rich and cultured. Clever.
Beau smiled wistfully. “She is very fair. But she is snow, she is ice. You are fire and earth. I came back to you, love.”
“And you can go right back to her again!”
“Let me show you something.” He began unlacing his jerkin.
“I have seen your manly body before! You expect me to melt with desire at the sight of it?” If she didn’t keep yelling she would start weeping. “Did it have that effect on your precious icy Czarina?”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind just yet. She sent this to you.”
He wore a gold chain around his neck. Suspended from it, close to his white binding scar, dangled a ruby the size of an egg yolk, cut in the shape of a heart. It burned like fire, like blood. Isabelle stared at it in utter disbelief. Even Tasha owned nothing to compare with that.
All she could think to say was, “Is it real?”
“Certainly.” He lifted the chain over his head and stepped close to loop it over hers. “When she heard that I was married, Sophie said…I mean, Her Majesty the Czarina Regent sent that for you.”
“Oh.” Isabelle had never heard of quite such a situation before. Rent for one husband? She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do—write a thank-you note or a receipt? Ask for advice on technique?
“She sends me her heart?” she yelled.
“She is a very sentimental lady…as well as being icy, of course.”
“She rewards all her flunkies with pickings from the crown jewels?”
“Only the very beautiful ones.”
Before Isabelle could answer that, Beau kissed her, taking her unaware. She did not refuse. Nor did she cooperate. After some time he pulled back just enough to give her a worried look and murmur, “Better now?”
Mmph!
“You’re staying this time?” She ought to make him suffer much, much longer! He should pay for all the months he had spent fornicating with his fair Czarina, never thinking of the wife he had left languishing alone, here in Greymere Palace. But then she would suffer too.
“I shall stay with you forevermore, I swear.”
After all, he had come back.
It wasn’t as if That Woman was accessible, just around the corner.
And he did look worried. She had never seen him look so worried.
She had promised to trust him.
“Oh, very well,” Isabelle said. “Clear that trash off the bed.”
About the Author
DAVE DUNCAN
is an award-winning author whose fantasy trilogy, The Seventh Sword, is considered a sword-and-sorcery classic. His numerous novels include three Tales of The King’s Blades— The Gilded Chain, Lord of the Fire Lands, and Sky of Swords— the popular tetralogies A Man of His. Word and A Handful of Men, and the remarkable, The Great Game critically acclaimed fantasy trilogy
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PRAISE FOR
PARAGON LOST
and DAVE DUNCAN’S
The King’s Blades
“Rich, evocative language and superior narrative skills lift this mix of quest, swordplay, politics, love, and honor high above the usual run of genre fiction.”
Publishers Weekly (* Starred Review *)
“Just the sort of marvelous yarn that lured me into reading fantasy.”
New York Times-bestselling author Anne McCaffrey
“Duncan is an expert at producing page-turning adventure.”
Locus
“For panache, style, and sheer storytelling audacity, Duncan has few peers.”
Kirkus Reviews (* Starred Review *)
“Duncan crafts wonderful tales of swords, sorcery, and intrigue.”
Charleston Post and Courier
“Duncan is a true master of his craft.”
SF Site
Other Eos Books by
Dave Duncan
THE CHRONICLES OF THE KING’S BLADES
IMPOSSIBLE ODDS
(forthcoming in hardcover)
THE TALES OF THE KING’S BLADES
THE GILDED CHAIN
LORD OF THE FIRE LANDS
SKY OF SWORDS
THE KING’S DAGGERS
SIR STALWART
CROOKED HOUSE
SILVERCLOAK
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, pl
aces, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
PARAGON LOST. Copyright © 2002 by Dave Duncan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © JUNE 2005 ISBN: 9780061807879
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