Swordpoint (18 page)

'You see,' he said, 'you mustn't give me things.'

'Stop it,' Richard said, frightened and angry. The pale face looked otherworldly, but he knew it was just the drugs.

'Richard.' Alec stared at him without blinking. 'Don't tell me what to do. No one tells me what to do.' He turned to the fire with the book in his left hand held out behind him like a balance. Alec stretched his right hand toward the embers glowing red in the hearth. It was like watching a magic trick that might succeed-----

Before his hand could close over the hot coals Richard sprang, pulling him roughly back into his arms, half-sprawling on the floor.

'Ah,' Alec sighed, going limp with dead weight on him. 'You're such a coward.'

'I'm not going to let anything happen to you,' Richard said doggedly, as though he were losing an argument.

'It isn't worth it,' said Alec dreamily; 'you won't always be there. They've got it all worked out now, haven't they? What do you suppose they'll want from you next?'

So he'd figured it out. For once, it had cost Richard something to protect him. But drugs couldn't keep that away forever.

'Don't worry,' said Richard. 'I'm taking care of that. It won't happen again.'

It was hard not to be angry with Ginnie's meddling. Richard owed her too much from the past to lose his temper with her because this once she was wrong. Even Alec knew that she was wrong. The men who had done Lord Horn's work must be found dead at the hands of St Vier.

Chapter XIX

It was too early in the year for an outdoor party, but one didn't refuse an invitation from the Duchess Tremontaine. Actually, the whole thing was impromptu and very delightful, as the ladies assured each other, bending over their flamingo mallets to give their wooden urchins a dainty tap: the weather unseasonably warm, the food fresh, the company delightful. Trust Diane to be so whimsically original! The gentlemen, their escorts, were quietly bored. One could flirt, but one couldn't bet - not on other people's wives and sisters, it wasn't decent.

Lord Ferris wondered whether his mistress kept inviting Horn because she thought it would amuse him. Usually it did; but this week he was not eager to be entertained by Horn. His equable settling of the weavers' rebellion had returned Ferris to the city a hero to his peers, and it was important that he circulate amongst them now, visible and accepting praise. The little man and his troubles were of no consequence now. But Horn kept edging up to Ferris, knocking his ball over to where he was standing, even when it was patently obvious that it was doing his game no good.

Diane was, as always, careful not to show any interest in Ferris, although it was the first time she'd seen her lover in weeks. Ferris, too, was careful. He remembered the first time he had been long out of town, near the beginning of their association. On his return he had gone straight to her house, to report to her on his mission, and to peel the silks from her body, inflamed with the memory of her. But he was more experienced now, and more cautious. He had not wanted to provoke comment by coming to see her immediately. He had a dinner engagement later tonight; but perhaps after her party there might be time for them to go to bed.

The glitter of sunlight on water, the merry music, the sparkling laughter and radiant colours of spring wardrobes set free from the confines of winter were giving Lord Ferris a headache. Horn's blue suit was a prime offender. Here it came again. Enthusiastically Ferris turned his back on the approaching nobleman to immerse himself in the nearest pool of gossip.

'We seem to be losing people at a stupendous pace this winter,' a sharp-faced noble called Galeno was expounding to a knot of men. 'At this rate the town will be empty before the season's officially ended, and there'll be no one left at all to vote in Spring Council.'

'Oh?' said Lord Ferris, ignoring Horn's peripheral gesticulations. 'Who's missing now?'

'First the Filisands left before New Year because of illness,' Galeno elaborated comprehensively, not to be balked of his list; 'then Raymond had that falling out with his wife's father; then there was the business with Karleigh and the swords; and now young Godwin's house is shut up, with no word of explanation. No one's seen him for days.'

That explained Horn's perturbation. 'I hope nothing's happened to him,' Ferris said politely.

'Oh, no; the servants said they'd received his personal orders to close up. But no one knows where he's gone, not even young Berowne, who usually can be counted on.'

Something must have gone wrong. Too bad for Asper. But Lord Michael had clearly left town, maybe even left the country, and that suited Ferris's purposes. Suddenly he thought, What if Godwin hadn't left at all, what if Diane were hiding him here in her house? But he dismissed the idea as abruptly as it had come. She wouldn't like the bother, or the risk. Her interest in the young man couldn't extend that far already. Godwin had been warned off, and that was all that was necessary.

'Karleigh,' said someone with insight. 'You didn't see him, Lord Ferris, when you went south? His hospitality's always good, and he must be bored to death out there. Glad of a little company, even from the opposition.'

'No, I didn't see him.' Let them believe that or not, as they liked. The truth was that he had not gone. He saw no need to let Karleigh feel important, and he'd been in a hurry to get back and settle with St Vier. He would tell Lord Halliday that Karleigh had seemed docile. It didn't much matter what he told Halliday now. 'Karleigh's old news,' Lord Ferris told his peers; 'midwinter madness. No one with any sense will want to unseat the Crescent next month.'

'But the rule - '

'We'll call an emergency and vote it down. There's always an emergency somewhere.' Appreciative laughter in reference to the weavers.

'Oh,' said old Tielman crustily. 'So that's the plan, is it? A sudden emergency that never quite lets up?'

The temperature around the little group dropped suddenly. Tielman was of Karleigh's generation; had been raised, perhaps, on the same stories of evil kings and the sovereign rights of the nobility. Ferris felt attention on him, like a single ray of heat. All across the lawn heads were turning to the knot of men, although no one knew exactly what they were looking for. Ferris had no desire to get himself into a challenge in Halliday's defence; at the same time, it would not hurt for the Crescent's supporters to see him as a benevolent force.

'My lord,' he fixed his good eye on the old man. 'Your words do no one credit.'

The Dragon Chancellor had weight and power. He had presence. Tielman backed off. 'I pray', he said with dignity, 'that my lord will not take offence. But we do not speak of a joking matter.'

'Then indeed you must!' a woman's voice chimed. It was the duchess, who, attentive as always to the mood of her company, had attached herself to the fringes of the circle. Now she took Ferris's arm. The wind fluttered the green and silver ribbons that streamed from her hat and dress. 'I smell a political discussion: no jokes allowed! But at my party we will be merry, and tell jokes that everyone can laugh at. Such a lovely day, on loan from summer. I don't know why you gentlemen must always be looking out for a chance to quarrel.' Her voice rippled on over the last of the dissolving tension. 'And if you must quarrel, let it be over women, or something else worthwhile___'

Still talking, she led Ferris across the grass. Those nearest saw her lean her head into him, and caught snatches of her chiding, 'Really, my lord, you are just like all the rest of them....'

Not lowering her voice she said, 'Now come, sit where I can keep an eye on you and you won't get into mischief, and tell me all about your trip. I don't suppose you were able to pick up some wool at a reasonable price... ?'

He allowed himself to be led to a wide seat under a linden tree. With the spread of her skirts and flounces there was barely room for him to sit down beside her; but he expertly flipped back the hang of his sleeves and poised himself on the edge of the seat.

He was, unfortunately, a sitting target for Lord Horn. To desert one's hostess would be rude; so when the fair nobleman came strolling up to them Ferris determined to stick it out with reinforcement from Diane.

To his dismay, the duchess showed no inclination to assist him in his evasion. 'Asper! How splendid you look. You should always wear blue, it is your best colour; don't you think so, Tony?'

'Unquestionably.' His head was beginning to ache again. 'Although I find green always gives him a certain... wicked air.'

'Indeed?' Horn preened. 'And is wickedness something to be cultivated, my lord?'

Oh, God, Ferris groaned inwardly. Desperate, he let his eye stray to the flamingo game. 'Madam, Duchess! You have no champion. Allow me to take up your cause.'

She turned her mouth down mockingly. 'Flamingo, my lord? Isn't that a bit tame for you?'

He shrugged. 'It's the game of choice. Anyway, I play a poisonous game. I learnt it from my sisters. Even with one eye, I'll bet I can see your ball through to the stake ahead of those field-mice.'

'How ungallant - for the field-mice. I, of course, am flattered. But I'm afraid you can't have my ball, Tony, it's cracked. You'll have to champion someone else.'

'Never mind the flamingo,' Horn said affably; 'come and walk with me, my dear.'

'Oh, yes, Tony! You can show Asper the sculpture garden - I don't believe he's seen my additions to my lord the late duke's collection, although I know he saw the originals when dear Charles was alive. Of course I can't leave everyone now, so it will have to be you. I hope you don't mind....'

Defeated and fuming, he bowed. 'It will give me the greatest pleasure.'

Lord Ferris maintained a frosty silence as he led the other noble across the lawns toward the statuary garden.

'What a wonderful woman,' said Horn, complacent now that he'd achieved his desire. Lord Ferris did not answer him, and the two men stepped onto the gravel path bordered by privet. The bushes were just beginning to come into leaf, creating a green-grey screen between them and the party across the lawn.

The first of the sculptures jutted a toe into their line of vision. It belonged to a nymph, innocently bathing her foot in a presumed stream that ran at about the level of their noses. On the pedestal behind her a leering satyr lurked, preparing to pounce, balked of his desire by an eternity of marble.

They passed it without comment. Horn's light satin shoes crunched rhythmically on the gravel path, leading deeper into the maze. The smell of sap and damp earth drifted past the barriers of their perfume. Under the next statue Horn paused. It was a classic piece depicting a now-defunct god in his avatar as a ram begetting a future hero on a virgin priestess who, according to this particular sculptor, was enraptured with her good fortune. For a moment Horn looked vaguely at it, and then took his carved ivory wand and began tapping the crucial juncture absently, with the nervous rhythm of someone drumming his fingernails.

'It didn't work,' he said at last.

'Obviously,' said Ferris, at no pains to hide his boredom.

'That little bastard Godwin's run off somewhere. God knows what he told St Vier first. I'll be a laughingstock!'

'You'd better ask the swordsman. Pay him something extra.'

Horn swore. 'How the devil am I to ask him anything? Getting this job out of him was bad enough.'

'Well, you've still got his friend, haven't you? Just send him-'

Horn's pale eyes protruded further. 'Of course not! I sent the fellow back! It was in the agreement. I couldn't go back on my word. Anyhow, he was a damned bother.'

Ferris lowered his hands and walked away.

When Horn caught up with him he stopped. 'You realise', Ferris said, 'that now St Vier is going to try to kill you?'

Horn lifted his chin, an arrogant and somehow tantalising gesture left over from his days of beauty. 'He wouldn't dare. Not on his own. Not without a contract.'

'St Vier doesn't work on contract. You should know that.'

'But I sent the fellow back!'

'Well, get him again.'

'I can't. The men I used - they're dead. Two days ago. My agent told me this morning.'

Ferris laughed. Birdlike, his one eye glinted at Horn. 'Can you imagine who killed them? Poor clever St Vier; I'm sure he was hoping you'd have figured it out by now. He doesn't know you; or his faith in humanity is high.'

Lord Horn's face had turned the colour of old cheese. His age showed on it suddenly, lined and hollowed. 'Your woman - Katherine - tell her to call him off!'

'I won't have you bothering Katherine; you've been too much with her already.'

'I can't leave the city - there'd be talk - '

'Stay, then, and guard yourself.'

'He wouldn't dare,' Horn hissed. 'If he touches me, he'll hang!'

'Yes, if he's caught,' Ferris said, and added reasonably, 'He's a madman, Asper; all great swordsmen are. It's the devil of a job. But they have their rules, just as we have ours. If you hadn't chosen to act outside them, you wouldn't be having these problems.'

He turned to go, eager to rejoin the party; but Horn caught the end of his sleeve, and he was forced to stop lest the fabric be torn.

'You!' Horn spat. 'Dragon Chancellor! You're a fine one to talk of rules. Shall I tell them how you encouraged this? You knew all about it from that girl of yours - you sent her to meet me, she told me you wouldn't mind....'

'If by them you mean the Council..." Ferris tried to repress a slight smile. 'All right, I was careless.' He had been nothing of the kind. Horn knew only as much as was good for him. But it wouldn't do to have Horn completely against him, in case he got out of this alive. He began to play him out, the catspaw. 'But Asper, I beg you to reconsider. To denounce me before them means exposing your own part in this. I would not have you ruin my career at the expense of your own reputation.' Horn's face was still belligerent, but faintly puzzled. He'd missed the irony, but some of the logic was getting through to him. 'There's no crime in setting a swordsman on some young puppy...."

'But they'll want to know why,' Ferris said gently. 'As you say, there'll be talk. And it is a crime to abduct someone, although of course when you've explained your reasons....'

Horn swallowed convulsively, the carefully hidden webbing of his throat moving against the cloth. 'I can't...."

'No, of course not,' the orator's voice soothed. A sudden provocative image of the duchess touched Ferris's mind. He never wanted to go to bed with men, although many people said the excitement and sense of mastery were greater. Ferris liked women, and intelligent ones. For men, he liked the exercise of manoeuvring them, not just stupid ones like Horn, but clever ones like Halliday, feeling them hurtle down the slope with him on a sled of his own devising, turning the corners at his chosen rate of speed... it was a pleasure as dense and complex as lovemaking, with effects far more lasting and rewarding.

'Go on,' he said kindly to the now humble nobleman. 'Increase your guard, get a couple of swordsmen...."

Horn passed a hand over his face. 'You don't suppose he would swear out a complaint against me... ?' It would be humiliating, but safer.

'And let people know what you did to him? No, I don't think so, Asper. He wants you to sweat; that's why he killed your other men first. I suppose the best thing you can do is to be as carefree as possible. Maybe find someone to challenge him first. It's a bit irregular, but better than being set on yourself some night, don't you think?' They came to another statue, of the ram god enjoying the eternal gratitude of his armourer. 'Ah,' said Ferris with ruthless good humour; 'Now this is new. It's by the same sculptor as the nymph; the duke commissioned it just before his death, so of course it's taken the fellow years to deliver...."