Magic Casement (33 page)

“You
see my predicament,” his voice said softly-and surely he was still
speaking to her. “I had been sworn to secrecy by Sagorn, for ailments of
kings are matters of high import. So I could not discuss my mission. “

She
raised her eyes to meet his. She smiled her forgiveness.

She
smiled that she had never doubted him.

He
returned the smile, a little-thanking her for it-but his eyes remained grave.

“And
so we went to Krasnegar. By Winterfest Sagorn had no doubt. The king commanded that
the secret be kept, and the matter should properly have been no affair of mine.
But now I knew Inosolan. I was his Majesty’s guest, and his daughter’s
slave, but not his subject. Once again I found myself trapped in a conflict of
honor, for I knew that Inos would want to know. So that was my penance for
nosiness-that I must take her the doleful tidings. I bought a couple of horses,
and here I am.”

Inos
gasped in horror and disbelief. For her he had faced the frozen immensity of
the forest-alone! So lightly! For her! Alone!

“A
remarkable tale!” the duchess said acidly. “Kade, we should not
detain you in your time of grief. Whatever we may do to aid you, you have only
to ask, as you know. “

It
was dismissal. The men rose as the ladies did. Andor was first at the door.

He
kissed Inos’s hand and bowed to her aunt. “If you do decide to go,
ma’am,” he said, and it was not clear to which princess he spoke, “then
I would beg of you to let me accompany you. It would be the least I could do to
repair my folly.”

What
folly? Inos floated out behind her aunt and, despite the wounds caused by the
news of her father, some part of her heart soared like a skylark into the
heavens.

The
dowager duchess of Kinvale watched the door close. Then she unleashed her
bleakest stare. “You are welcome here, Sir Andor. But tell me-I believe
that the noble Senator Endrami died over thirty years ago? “

He
did not even blink. “Twenty-six years and three months, ma’am. I
was a posthumous baby, but not quite so posthumous as that.”

“So
the Lady Imagina who married the Mar-grave of Minxinok must have been your
cousin?”

“My
oldest sister, your Grace. She died when I was very young. I never knew her.”

Endrami
had been a distant-an extremely distant-relative, and the boy’s
information was correct. So either he was genuine or he had done his homework
well, perhaps even well enough to spring those traps she had just tried to set.
The Endrami lands were all down in South Pithmot; it would take weeks to
confirm his story. “What chance that the girl can reach Krasnegar before
her father dies?”

He
shrugged. “It is in the hands of the Gods.”

“But
we must all help the Gods to aid the Good, mustn’t we? How do the king’s
subjects feel about a queen of such youth, and unmarried? “

“I
never heard the matter discussed, your Grace. The king’s danger was still
a secret. “

“I
see.” Feeling unusually baffled, Ekka turned to her son, who was staring
at the rug, pulling at his lip in that childish habit of his. “Angilki,
you forget your duties. Sir Andor must be weary from his journey.”

The
duke awoke with a start and sprang up obediently. The door opened and closed
again.

Ekka
was left alone with Proconsul Yggingi, who sat with his helmet on his lap,
regarding her impassively.

“It
can be done?” she asked.

“Yes.
“

She
approved of his brusque manner. “A deal, then?”

“Name
it.”

“Make
me an offer.”

He
shook his close-cropped head and his face was unreadable. _”Y ou
initiated this. You invited me. You have something in mind. “

She
would crack that marble facade. “Gambling debts, mostly. “

He
smiled grimly. “Mine, or do you also have a problem?”

It
was she who was shaken. Such insolence she had not met in half a lifetime. “Yours.
You are rumored to have gone through your wife’s fortune in two years.”

He
shrugged imperturbably. “A year and a half. And I now owe forty-two
thousand imperials more.”

Incredible!
It was much worse than she had heard. “You are in serious trouble,
Proconsul.” He would he in debtors’ prison till the rats ate him.

“I
am ruined.”

“Desperate?”

The
twist of his lips was barely a smile. “I have no scruples, if that is
what you mean. None at all. Have you?”

She
laughed, surprising herself. “None. To business, then. There would appear
to be a disputed succession in Krasnegar.”

“Or
soon will be. Certainly the jotnar there will not readily accept rule by a
woman.”

“It
is a long time since my last history lesson, Excellency. You must know much
more about such things than I do.”

He
chuckled. “The Impire is a shark, and it eats minnows whenever it can
catch them. “

He
had a surprisingly apt turn of phrase for a brute soldier. Ekka had not needed
to recall her school days to know that any trouble in other realms was usually
turned to the Impire’s advantage-a disputed succession, a civil war, or
even a minor border squabble, and the legions would march in on the pretext of
guarding one side or the other. It didn’t matter which, because both
sides were inevitably swallowed up promptly. They might fight loose again in a
generation or so, but by then the looting had been done. And she certainly did
not need to lecture Yggingi on this.

“If
the girl cannot rule, then my son has the best claim.” The big man cocked
an impudent eyebrow at her. “I understood that Thane Kalkor had a better.”

Ekka
thumped her cane angrily on the rug-she was wearing a hole there, she reminded
herself. It must have become a habit.

“He
has a claim through his great-grandaunt. But if a woman cannot rule, then she
cannot pass on the title! So his case is selfdefeating. His argument would be
meaningless!”

“Jotnar’s
arguments are usually pointed.” Yggingi crossed his legs and wriggled
himself into a comfortable but not very military slouch. “Granted that
your son has a claim, but your son is a subject of the imperor. The imperor cannot
deny a woman’s right to rule, because his own grandmother was imperess
regnant. So your argument is equally self-defeating. Interesting!”

She
had not expected him to see that-it had taken her several days to work it out
after Kade had let slip the tiger. Both sides ought to admit that the other’s
claim was better. Of course neither ever would. “Mmm. But if the imperor
decided to... to go to my niece’s assistance, then he would naturally
dispatch you, as your precinct of Pondague borders on Krasnegar.”

He
flushed slightly, which surprised her. “Not necessarily, but let us
assume so for the moment. What exactly are you proposing, your Grace?”

“Take
the girl back. If her father is dead-and if he isn’t I expect the shock
of your arrival may well precipitate his demise--then proclaim her queen, and
she will in turn name you as her viceroy. Send her back here to marry my son.
It would please me to have my descendants be kings, even if the title is moot.”

He
nodded and rose to begin pacing the room. That was a rank discourtesy, and the
thump of his boots on her expensive rugs was extremely annoying, but she kept
her face schooled as she had done for generations.

“That’s
clever! “ he said at last. “The imperor will have the
ruler-whichever of them it is-here in his fist, and Krasnegar will remit taxes,
to help defray the costs of the protection. “

“Moreover
your creditors will be hard-pressed to reach you there, and you can loot an
extra forty-two thousand imperials to pay your debts.”

He
stopped by the fireplace and turned to regard her with a smile that was close
to contemptuous. “Not without provoking famine, I’m sure. From what
I hear, it is a bleak little spot. “

“Scruples?”

He
shrugged. “I might become liable for impeachment, or at least
replacement. “

“My
family is not without influence in Hub, Proconsul.”

He
chuckled. “True. Your son will not go to Krasnegar?”

“He
would sooner die. “

“But
why send the girl? Marry them now, while you have her in hand. She can sign my
commission before I leave.”

This,
of course, was the tricky part. She had foreseen this. “Being postdated,
it would be a dubious document at best. The people might not believe, unless
they saw her, and witnessed her willing signature.”

He
chuckled again. “But what of the jotnar? Gnomes and goblins are good
sport, but fighting jotnar would be red work. You think Kalkor would accept
this convenient arrangement?”

She
shrugged. “I doubt if he really cares. Looting and raping are his wont,
and he could have taken Krasnegar anytime he wanted. You can buy off the
thanes.”

“Maybe.
You want the princess returned with the word.”

“What
word?”

He
laughed coarsely and sauntered back to his chair. “It is common knowledge
that the kings of Krasnegar still hold one of Inisso’s words. My luck at
the tables might change if I had a word. “

She
twirled her gold-knobbed cane, studying it. “Then the girl stays here. I
have Inosolan, and without her nobody gets the word... if there is one, of
course.”

“I
agree, then,” he said. “You give me Krasnegar to hold in fief from
your son, and I send back one word-knowing princess. You pay the expenses.”

“Outrageous!”

Yggingi
chuckled. “Necessary! In your felicitous turn of phrase, I have already
looted Pondague for all I can take. My men have not been paid for months and
are close to mutiny. So a thousand as seed money, plus the princess, and I
shall take her to Krasnegar. You shall have her back, with the word if she gets
it.”

From
the first, Ekka had known the weakness in her plan-she would have to trust this
self-admitted scoundrel. But if he needed money so badly, she had a little
power left. “Your wife, I think, stays here. The journey would be too
hard for her.”

His
eyes narrowed. “I believe the danger from the goblins might require more
men that I first thought. Two thousand imperials for expenses.”

Skinflint!
But Ekka had nothing to lose except two thousand imperials and a sister-in-law.
Angilki could breed a son on the girl and the next duke of Kinvale would inherit
two words. It was certainly worth the gamble.

“Agreed,
then,” she said.

Tucking
his helmet under his arm, Yggingi rose and saluted.

“Agreed!”

“So
now you must try to get the child to Krasnegar.”

He
chuckled. “Ma’am, I shall get your princess to Krasnegar if I have
to kill every goblin in Pandemia and drag her all the way through the forest,
weeping.”

Forest
weeping:

And
Sir Lancelot awoke, and went and took his horse,

And
rode all that day and all that night in a forest, weeping.

Malory,
Le Morte D Arthur

Damsel Met

Wolverine
Totem had once been the most southerly of the goblin villages, set high in
forested foothills, near to Pondague. Long ago it had been raided by a troop of
imps, the inhabitants slaughtered and the buildings burned. One house,
originally the boys’ cabin, had survived the devastation, and it was used
now on occasion by travelers.

Rap
had found it with his farsight in thickly blowing snow as a storm moved in.
Little Chicken had been unperturbed by the weather, for he was capable of
burrowing into a snowbank and staying there for days, not emerging for any
purpose whatsoever. Rap, preferring freedom and fire, had been very glad to
reach the dilapidated ruin. Now the two of them sat by a crackling blaze to
wait out the weather. Shadows leaped and jiggled over the log walls, wind
screamed overhead, and whiffs of snow blew in through chinks to pile up in
corners. Yet the cold was much less now, farther south and closer to spring.
Near the hearth, the temperature was almost comfortable. Rap had unlaced his
buckskins, while the goblin had stripped to the waist and sat impassively,
staring into the fire, poking it once in a while with a long stick, probably
mouming his lack of grease for rubbing himself, his favorite occupation. Fleabag
was stretched out on the dirt farther away, paws twitching as he chased
memories through a forest of dreams.

Farsight
failed to show anything moving outside. Even Little Chicken could not hunt in
such a blizzard. Even Fleabag could not, or Rap could have sent him out to do
so. They had enough food for two days, and the first day was almost gone.

Rap
had slept. Perhaps the goblin had. Now Rap realized that this empty, echoing
ruin had brought him his first real opportunity to talk with Little Chicken. Through
all their weeks of travel together he had always been masked and running, or
else too exhausted.

“I
want to tell you my story,” he began. “Tell you why we’re
going south.”

The
burly young woodlander looked up, but with no interest showing in his slanted
eyes. “Not important to trash.”

“But
I’ll tell you anyway-don’t you like stories?” Little Chicken
shrugged.

“Very
well,” Rap said doggedly. “That man who brought me-Wolf Tooth, he
called himself. He was some sort of demon. “

That
brought no reaction. None of it did. Rap told of Inos, and the dying King
Holindarn. He told of Andor and his power to bewitch people into trusting him.
He told of their trek together from Krasnegar, and the inexplicable appearance
of Darad.

At
the end of it all Little Chicken was still gazing at him impassively, without
comment or apparent interest. Seeing that the recital had ended, however, he
asked. “Then this chief will give you this woman?”