Arcanum (72 page)

He poured the wine-pink stream until her cup was half full. “Mistress.”

“Master.” She drank slowly, lowered her mug slowly, and returned to her meal slowly, all the while enjoying Ullmann’s discomfort.

“Excellent,” said Thaler. “Now where was I? Yes. You are free to come and go as you please: a salary will be paid, with a small deduction for board and lodging while you remain in library accommodation. Working hours are, perforce, during daylight alone now, until we can invent something better than a lantern. If you find something you’d rather be doing, then let me know – you’ve sworn no oaths and made no promises regarding the length of your stay, but of course if you feel the work and the life suits you, you are welcome to join our small band of brothers.”

“And now sisters,” said Ullmann.

“What? I …” and Thaler sat suddenly upright. “Gods yes. I hadn’t even thought of that. I hadn’t thought of that at all. Well then: if the Order took women, then so do we. Another tradition on the bonfire.”

He charged his mug and gulped down its contents to cover his confusion.

Ullmann noticed that the woman opposite now seemed to be regarding him with less hostility. He joined in the small talk and, because he was a good talker and knowledgeable about the town, the others listened to him. He observed how she ate and drank; freely, taking what she wanted, when she wanted.

He’d visited the novices’ house. He’d picked over the jumbled pile of bodies behind it, and wandered its empty corridors, confronted again and again with devices that could only have been used to inflict various grades of pain. Everyone who’d been through that school would be a formidable opponent. He suspected that the former witch was never going to be content to be a mundane like everyone else.

Finally, he thanked them all for their company and left the refectory, intending to head to the fortress. He was halfway to the outside door when he heard his name called.

It was her.

“Mistress?”

The corridor was almost completely dark. She came towards him, only stopping when she was uncomfortably close. “We need to talk privately, Master Ullmann.”

“We do?” Ullmann judged his exits.

“Yes,” she said. “Master Thaler is a good man, and well suited to oversee the library. Do you agree?”

“There’s none finer in the land, Mistress. Master Thaler lives and breathes books, and he has a rare passion for knowledge.” He wondered where she was taking the conversation.

“Do you also agree that he’s ill-equipped for any measure of intrigue and politicking?”

“I can’t say whether he is or isn’t, Mistress.” All Ullmann could see of her was her silhouette. “I dare suppose Master Thaler could turn his hand to anything if he chose.”

“Come now. He’s a naif, an innocent. He projects his own good intentions on others, and expects them to treat him honourably. You, however, realise that the Order trains people differently.”

Ullmann’s hand strayed to his belt almost unconsciously. “Mistress, I only know a little of the Order’s methods—”

“All your suspicions about me are true, and you cannot begin to comprehend the depths of depravity which the masters imposed on me.” She tilted her head to one side, and her voice sounded almost wistful. “Master Thaler is wholly different. His nature is light to their darkness, and, astute as you are, you surely realise that I have nowhere else to go. He is ignorant of what I really am in a way that you are not. If you turn him against me, I’m finished.”

He had his fingers on his knife. “I’m content to let Master Thaler oversee your conduct, and as long as it pleases him, it’ll please the prince.”

“Are you still afraid of me, Master Ullmann?” she asked. “Are you afraid I’ll somehow regain my power and try to take everything back?”

It would be easy to drive his dagger into her guts. Easier now that he’d done it to someone else. After the act, though, he’d have Thaler to answer to, and the prince after that. “I’m quite convinced that your witchery is in the past, Mistress, and if necromancy ever tempted you, we’ve already dealt with Eckhardt.”

She leant forward on tiptoe. “I need you to be convinced, Master Ullmann, as much as I need Master Thaler to be convinced. I recognise a potential enemy when I see one, and, right now, one is one too many. I might be the first adept to come over to the library, but I won’t be the last. If others start to plot and plan, I’ll come and tell you. Ask me questions and I’ll hide nothing from you.”

Ullmann consciously moved his right hand to behind his back. “That’s a fine offer, Mistress…”

“Tuomanen,” she said, filling in the gap.

“But what do you expect in return?”

“What do I want? I want to live. Master Thaler thinks the townsfolk will simply accept us in their midst: we both know he’s wrong.” And with that, she turned and walked away, a slight and small grey shape in the gloom.

Ullmann stared at the space where she’d been, and thought that, just as Thaler had under-librarians, and masters had their journeymen, he needed his own people around him: nothing less than a private army to protect him and do his bidding.

All in the name of the prince, of course.

He had coin, and access to more if he made the case for it. It was time to make some appointments.

Felix joined Sophia at the window as she peered down into the courtyard. She pointed at the man in the rich cream-coloured cloak.

“Is that him?” she asked.

Felix nodded. “His excellency Spyropoulos, ambassador of the Eastern Roman Empire.”

The ambassador had gold thread embroidered into the hem of his cloak. It glittered as he walked towards his entourage.

“I’m sorry I missed him,” she said. “Something came up.”

“I can’t be trusted to deal with ambassadors now?” Felix watched as the ambassador, a tall man with tightly wound oiled black hair, snatched his reins from the child slave acting as his retainer. “He has a temper.”

“What did you say to him?”

“That I couldn’t lend him half a dozen hexmasters to put down a slave revolt.”

The Byzantine slapped at his slave with the back of his hand, and followed it up with a kick for good measure. The boy fell to the ground, cringing, and Felix felt his hand slide to his belt.

“How did he take it?”

“Badly. It must be a very big slave revolt to need the services of six hexmasters.” Felix glanced at Sophia’s face, and at the serious expression she wore. “Do you think I should ask him to stop that?”

“It’s hardly the boy’s fault,” she said, tapping her lips with her finger. “Perhaps I should go down.”

Felix looked at the ambassador’s fine white horse and the five other riders with him, dressed in Roman-pattern cavalry armour. They all had young men or boys as retainers, and none were exactly dressed for the climate. Their short tunics and sandals seemed wholly out of place. “We’re not supposed to threaten the ambassador or his retinue. It’s not done.”

“Even if he beats a child to death in front of your eyes, in your own courtyard?”

Felix struggled with the catch on the casement, and finally managed to open the window.

“Ambassador? Ambassador Spyropoulos?”

The ambassador was so intent on stamping on the boy’s huddled legs that he didn’t hear at first. One of the other riders gained his attention and pointed up to the solar.

“Yes, most illustrious prince?”

Felix murmured to Sophia. “How come
you
never call me ‘most illustrious’.” Then he raised his voice. “You shame yourself and me with your conduct.”

Spyropoulos looked momentarily perplexed. “The slave? You concern yourself about a slave?”

“Yes, ambassador, I do. Stop kicking him. Now.”

Glowing with his exertion, the man stepped back.

“How much?” asked Felix.

“My esteemed prince?”

“The boy. He’s a slave. I’m buying him from you. Name your price.” He felt Sophia’s hand on his arm. He smiled.

“Keep him. One less slave to rebel against the emperor.” Spyropoulos spat at the boy and took up his reins again. “Is our business done, my noble prince?”

Sophia leant in to Felix. “He doesn’t mean it, you know: ‘most illustrious’.”

“Yes, I know.” Felix smiled, then called down again. “It’s done, ambassador.”

He watched the Byzantines ride away towards the Hel Gate, the horses’ iron-shod hooves clattering and sparking on the flags.

“We could have done with those horses,” he said. “Instead, I have a slave.”

“Trust you to think about horses.”

“You’re not sore, are you?” he asked her. Below, the boy started to uncurl like a bruised flower, eyes blinking at the twin thoughts that he’d been both saved and abandoned.

Sophia moved awkwardly. “My, you know. Tusch.”

“Arse?” suggested Felix.

“Yes, that. I won’t be sitting down all day.”

Felix smirked. “You had the fattest, most docile nag left in the stables and it barely broke into a walk.”

They returned their attention to the courtyard. The slave-boy had finally found his feet, and was looking around at the high walls, sniffing the the cool damp air. He limped first in one direction, then another, not knowing what to do.

“Someone needs to go and take care of him,” said Sophia.

“Wait. I want to see what he does.”

“Isn’t that …” she frowned, “…cruel?”

“He’s free,” said Felix. “Is freedom cruelty?”

“The boy’s hurt.”

Despite his evident discomfort, the boy circled the courtyard. A servant came out of the kitchen, on the way to the well for water. She broke step when she saw this under-dressed child, and kept a wary eye on him as she hauled on the rope.

Felix studied the woman thoughtfully. “That well,” he said, “might come up from the caves below the fortress that Master Thaler discovered.” He glanced around at Sophia. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Who are you going to send down to find out?”

“I’ll ask for volunteers.”

The woman at the well was now speaking to the boy, who clearly didn’t understand a word. She didn’t give up, though, her mouth-movements becoming more and more exaggerated as she attempted to make herself understood.

“The lad can work in the library. Master Thaler speaks Greek, doesn’t he?”

“Among a dozen other languages.” Sophia stretched her back, but continued to look out of the window at the courtyard. “I do too.”

The boy was standing close to the kitchen woman. He was pointing to the rope, and she was laughing, shaking her head. The bucket emerged, and her strong arms lifted it clear. She poured the contents into the pail she’d brought, and left the other on the ground, surrounded by coils of rope.

She was halfway back to the kitchen when she turned and beckoned the boy to follow her. He tried to hurry, despite his thin legs being stiff with injury. She waited for him all the same, and he trailed beside her skirts as she was lost from view.

“You were late back from the library. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” Felix rubbed at his shoulder.

“You’d better sit down.” Sophia declined to do the same, but instead poured them both a cup of watered wine. “Master Wess had to intervene at the bridge this morning. A farmer had found some Bavarians hiding in his barn.”

“Not more Bavarians.” Felix pressed his forehead against the table. “We’re going to run out of towers to hold them all at this rate.”

“It’s not like last time, Felix. It was two families. They were fleeing Simbach.”

His head came up. “Fleeing? Are things that bad there?”

“So Master Wess says. Their earl has decided that as well as sending spies against us, he’s going to rob his own people.” Sophia walked back and forth beside the length of the table. There was something distracting about the swish of her skirt as she turned.

“Can’t we leave the Bavarians to deal with him?” Felix asked her. “Who’s on the throne instead of Leopold?”

She stopped briefly. “No one knows. This Fuchs seems free to do whatever he wants.”

Felix pulled a face. “We don’t have enough soldiers to patrol the river bank.”

“We have to do something, though. If all of Simbach decides they’ve had enough, we’re the first obvious place for them to go. And then Fuchs will follow them.”

“My father would be choosing what he was going to have for lunch about now,” murmured Felix, looking at the surface of the wine in his cup, and at how it shivered with each of her footsteps. “Then perhaps thinking about an afternoon’s hawking. Ask me again if I want things to go back to the way they were?”

“They can’t, Felix, and we’re left having to do something about this.” She stood behind him, and rested her hands on his shoulders. Gently, as if she might damage him otherwise. “Fuchs has already sent spies here to find out what we could do to him. He’s testing us.”

Felix leant back into her touch. “We can’t do anything to him. I’m sorry for the people of Simbach, but what do they expect us to do?”

“They expect us to help them.”

“With what? We don’t have an army, Sophia. We don’t have hexmasters and we don’t have men-at-arms and we don’t have horsemen and we don’t have crossbowmen. And even if we had, I wouldn’t want to waste their lives like my father did at Obernberg.” He twisted around in his seat, despite the pain this caused him. “We have to choose which battles to fight. We don’t have to fight this one. Not yet, anyway. We’re not ready.”

She stepped back, let her fingers slide off him. “We can’t ignore it.”

“We’re not. We’re arguing about whether we can invade Simbach when we haven’t even repaired the water system.” He slumped back onto the table. “If Fuchs crosses the river, then yes, we’ll have to force him back, somehow.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to think about that now?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “But I can’t magic up an army I don’t have. And I’m not hiring mercenaries – I know what’ll happen if I do that. We’ll be able to protect ourselves by next spring. We’ll have militias by then, and enough arms and training for them to make anyone worry. We’ll have troops we can move quickly through the palatinate when we have to. It’ll just take time, that’s all.”

“Simbach doesn’t have a year, Felix. Neither do we.” Hands that moments ago had been gently touching him were now slapped on the tabletop with force. “We’ve been given this information. We haven’t had to work for it, and it’s cost us nothing. Surely we have to do better now than just sitting around waiting for something horrible to happen.”