The Baker's Boy (32 page)

Long tables were
heavily laden with many foods: four whole suckling pigs, mouths stuffed with
peaches; five roasted lambs; two sides of venison seasoned with rosemary and
thyme; twenty silver salmon from the Farlands; and a score of lake trout from
the east. There were platters of tender sheep's kidneys and plates full of
steamed pheasant. There were a dozen varieties of cheeses and huge baskets
filled with fresh fruits imported from the south.

There was a great
selection of drinks to choose from: for the ladies' fancy, wines and sherries,
sweet ciders and aromatic punches. For the men, potent ales and smooth stouts,
strong ciders and pungent meads.

The room was full
of exquisitely clothed women, wearing high-necked dresses of blue and green and
gold, their hair piled high in elaborate curls, and their arms and necks
bedecked in jewels which sparkled brilliantly in the candlelight. The men too
wore their best, richly colored robes of scarlet and purple. They mingled with
the women, bowing and giving gracious compliments, and flirting suggestively.

Servants were
adorned in their best liveries, running around the room, filling cups and
plates and attending to the slightest wish of the court. If the guests had been
more observant and less drunk they would have noticed many a serving boy
slipping sides of salmon and wedges of cheese beneath his tunic.

Winter's Eve
festival was only the second most important festival of the year; Mid Winter
was usually the most anticipated. But this year, the court at Castle Harvell
had much to celebrate: the war with the Halcus was rumored to be going well
and, more importantly, the king's health had improved. There was a feeling of
hope and excitement in the room. The future of the Four Kingdoms looked bright
and the court was eager to celebrate.

The banquet hall
was huge and filled to capacity. People had come from the four comers of the
kingdoms. There were visitors from Annis and Highwall and envoys from Lanholt
and Silbur. All had come to pay their respects and win favor with the queen.
The men talked of the war whilst the women talked politics. All who counted
were here; they were aware of their importance and basked in the glow of shared
privilege.

The wine was
strong and heady, and the ladies of court, who normally drank their wine
watered, found themselves giggling and merry and ready to dance. The men,
noticing this change, grew eager to please, fetching delicate morsels for them
to eat, kissing their hands gallantly and escorting them onto the floor.

As the night
progressed, the nature of the evening changed. Politics gave way to passion.
The music of strings and flutes filled the air; its soft cadences vying with
the sound of talk and laughter, enticing people to the dance. The music worked
its magic in subtle ways, making the ladies flushed and excited, and tempting
the men to make indiscreet suggestions and clandestine assignations.

Later there would
be singing, the beautiful Hanella of Marls was to perform songs requested by
the queen, songs telling of love and passion and intrigue. Harvell's own great
tenor Tarivall would later perform, beguiling the women with his glorious voice
and his magnificent bearing. There was said to be five breathtaking women from
Isro who would perform the exotic dance of their distant land--dancing naked
except for their golden bracelets.

It was to be the
greatest and most splendid night of the year. Nothing had been spared: maids
had spent months sewing dresses, cooks had spent weeks preparing foods, and
servants had spent days hanging garlands. The banquet hall on Winter's Eve was
a place of great excitement and captivating spectacle.

Baralis surveyed
the room with a cynical eye, noting with distaste the excesses of the evening.
Great ladies were acting like tavern wenches, lords were drinking and eating
like gluttons, and the lowly gentry were trying to ingratiate themselves with
anyone who would listen.

Baralis thought
the whole evening was a waste of time and money. He looked at the brightly
dressed women and saw vanity and frivolity. He looked at the drunken lords and
saw greed and stupidity. The court of the Four Kingdoms was filled with fools!

He would be
careful to play his part, though. He would have no one know what dark thoughts
nestled in his heart. He caught the eye of one of the court beauties; he bowed
gallantly and the absurd creature blushed and giggled. She was far too red of
face and big of bosom for Baralis to find her attractive-he preferred young
girls, slim of hip and breast. However, he knew he must go along with such
charade, and so made it his business to bow and smile to any lady who crossed
his path.

Baralis made sure
that he spoke to the lords that counted: the ones with great holdings of land,
the ones who wielded power at court, and the ones who had influence with the
queen. They were all a little uneasy in his presence, but this served only to
amuse him. He encouraged his companions to drink heavily, while careful to take
only a few sips of wine himself.

He approached Lord
Carvell; the man had financial interests in Bren and would prove a useful ally
in the months to come. Carvell was in deep conversation with a nobleman from
Annis. Fergil of Grallis was both cunning and wealthy.

He had a daughter
of Kylock's age, by all accounts a sickly girl with eyes as large as mushrooms.
Baralis spoke to Fergil, but his words were intended for Carvell: "Annis
does well in keeping its distance from Bren," he said. "Though I
doubt if it would fare so well, if it decided to- ally with the kingdoms. Bren
well likes its position as the mightiest power in the north and may balk at the
joining of two of its rivals." Baralis shrugged. "Of course, it might
not lead to war. But if it did, the first thing Bren would do would be to seize
all foreign assets in the city."

There. That should
be enough to put Carvell off listening to any proposals Fergil might make
regarding his daughter and Kylock. Carvell might like to politic, but his
financial interests would always come first. Sure that his words had hit the
mark, Baralis bowed graciously and moved on. Fending off potential brides for
Kylock was almost second nature to him. For nearly twenty years now, countless
dukes and lords had tried to marry their daughters to the heir to the Four
Kingdoms. Baralis counted it among his greatest achievements that none had
found their match. As king's chancellor he was perfectly placed for diverting
suitors away from the eyes and ears of the court, and if politics didn't work,
poison or sorcery always did.

He greeted Lady
Helliarna with a kiss to her hand. The old dowager simpered like a virgin.
Besides the queen, she was the most powerful woman at court. As her beauty
faded, her determination grew, and she had more influence with Arinalda than
any other. She also had a son, an interesting boy, whose ambitions equalled her
own-they would both be careful to choose the winning side if matters should
come to a head.

Not that he had
any intention of letting that happen. No, things would go smoothly, but it
never hurt to tilt the land in case of rain.

Lord and Lady
Hibray acknowledged him with all the aloofness of co-conspirators. It was
partly due to them, many years before, that he was made a lord. The good lady
had a problem holding her babies till term. Six had been born too soon-four of
them sons. He'd helped her out, as only he could, in return for introductions
in high places and a bequeathal of one of their many unused titles. It was a
fair deal: they had three grown children now-two daughters and a son. Baralis
was sure he could rely on their support for his choice of royal bride. If it
wasn't given willingly, there was always blackmail to tip the scales.

Lord Vernal had
come from the front to attend the celebrations-the battle would go worse for
his absence. He was a sound military leader. Baralis made a point of raising
his cup in the great man's direction. He might be a good friend of Maybor's,
but he had sons and, much like Helliarna, would do what was necessary to secure
their positions.

The two knights of
Valdis were here. For five years they had traveled between the courts at
Harvell and Helch, playing at peacemaking. Their efforts had waned over the
past years, and Baralis suspected it was the desire for information not peace
that kept them here. The knights were led by a dangerous fool. Tyren was close
with the duke of Bren, and he was doubtless using his knights' presence in the
kingdoms as a means to feed intelligence to the good duke. Let the knights act
as spies; the duke of Bren would hear nothing save reports of stalemate about
the war.

Baralis made a
mental note to let Lord Vernal in on his suspicions about the knights. It was
to his advantage to have the court wary of Bren's interest in the kingdoms.
Fear of invasion had helped seal many an alliance.

Baralis managed to
catch the eye of the queen and she gave him the most imperceptible of nods. He
in return smiled graciously. He could well afford to be gracious; with Maybor
and his daughter out of the way, the queen would soon submit to his proposal.
He would then be able to influence who Prince Kylock would marry.

He scanned the
room for Lord Maybor, but couldn't spot him at first, for the hall was crowded
with people. He eventually spied the portly lord. Maybor had managed to
surround himself with the pretty daughters of minor noblemen and was currently
flirting outrageously and generally making a fool of himself. He was wearing
the doctored robe. Baralis smiled, almost sadly. It would not be long before
Maybor would begin to feel the sting of the poison at his throat. Maybor would
collapse before the night was over, and people would nod and say it was due to
immoderate drinking and a weak heart.

After a while,
Baralis felt he'd had his fill of court pleasantries and he decided he would
retire to a less crowded part of the banquet hall. He made his way to the back
of the room where it was darker and there were few people around-save a few
couples who were too overcome with passion or drink to notice his presence. It
suited him well; he could watch the foibles of the court and not become
involved with them.

The assassin was
listening hard in the concealed passageway. The evening seemed to have reached
the drunken fever pitch that was required for him to perform his task
successfully. For the last time he checked his blade, more from habit than
anxiety. And then, his face taut with concentration, he stepped out.

The assassin crept
from the passageway. The only occupants of the small antechamber were an old
man and a young girl, who were both so embarrassed to be caught in such a
compromising position that they did not notice from whence the intruder came.
The old man was about to speak-probably some excuse. Scarl drew a finger to his
lips, halting any speech. He smiled understandingly and encouraged the man to
continue with a small gesture of his arm. The old man, much relieved, returned
to running his age-marked hands over the breasts of his adolescent companion.

The assassin
slipped into the banquet hall. He was momentarily dazzled by the bright light and
the noise. He checked carefully to make sure no one was looking his way, then
slunk up against the wall. Feeling the brush of tapestries against his back, he
made for the deepest shadows. The lords and ladies appeared not to notice the
passage of his slight, unassuming figure against the dark recesses of the wall.

As he drew near
the back of the hall, the assassin spotted his mark. Lord Baralis was there,
dressed in fine, black robes, sipping from a golden cup and watching the
revelry of the court with detachment.

Scarl reached the
end of the room. Hanging from the ceiling was a huge satin curtain which would
provide cover until he was ready to make his move. With practiced stealth, the
assassin crept to the back wall, lifted the rich curtain, and drew himself
behind it. His body flat against the stone, he moved level with his mark. He
was now a mere few feet directly behind Baralis.

Scarl checked
through an opening in the curtain and was pleased to find that apart from two
men in the cornerwho were so inebriated they could barely stand-Lord Baralis
was alone. The assassin's heart thrilled with anticipation.' All was as he
hoped.

The assassin drew
his knife. He lifted the satin curtain. Blade poised in hand, he moved forward.

Lord Maybor
realized that he was drunk. He was not just drunk, he was rip-roaring, out of
his skull drunk. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Not only had
everyone admired the magnificence of his robes, but he had also managed to
attract all the young beauties of the court to his side. There is no one like a
young girl for being impressed by great wealth and good looks, he thought. Who
knew, he might even remarry! He fancied an attractive wife for a change. Of
course, the catch was that the pretty ones never had any land-it was always the
ugly girls who had the best dowries. Maybor decided that his next wife would be
ugly, after all.

Who needed a
comely wife when there were so many young poppets willing to jump into his bed
and ask no more than a golden trinket or a new dress for the privilege?

Maybor tried to
focus his bleary eyes. He was sure the queen had given him a most hostile glare
earlier. Never mind, he would doubtless find out what the problem with Her
Highness was in the morning, when he had his audience with her. The evening was
far too stimulating to be worrying about the dour face of the queen.

He called loudly
for more ale. As he did so, he detected a soreness to his throat. He hoped he
wasn't coming down with a fever or the pox. He had noticed earlier that he had
a certain shortness of breath, but dismissed this as an effect of the ale. The
special brew was particularly potent and could easily be responsible for such
symptoms.