The Dog of the North (31 page)

Oricien shot Guigot a look of barely concealed triumph. Guigot did not meet his gaze. ‘Such a match,’ continued Lord Thaume, ‘would unite our families in a strong bond of
amity. It remains to be seen whether Duke Panarre wishes to be so closely associated with a vassal. As to my other offers: I have also proposed a union between Guigot and Lady Genevieva.’

‘A second daughter!’ cried Guigot. ‘My lineage must entitle me to better.’

‘On the contrary,’ said Master Guiles. ‘The advantage in the match would lie with us. Your lineage may be noble, Guigot, but your prospects are not strong. Lord Thaume would
have to settle lands upon you to avoid a misalliance.’

Guigot opened his mouth to argue.

‘Enough, Guigot,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘Your observations are not to the point.’

‘What of me, father?’ asked Siedra in a trembling voice.

‘I have proposed a match with Lord Dinarre,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘Much as I would have liked you to marry Trevarre, it is inconceivable that Panarre would give his heir away to a
vassal. Dinarre remains an excellent match, especially as Trevarre’s health is not robust.’

‘No!’ cried Siedra, the colour draining from her face. ‘He is unspeakable.’

‘His pedigree is flawless,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘He is also a handsome young man with agreeable manners.’

‘Mother!’ appealed Siedra. ‘He tortures kittens!’

Lady Jilka gave her a minatory stare. ‘Do you like kittens, Siedra?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then you have no grounds for complaint. It is a harmless peccadillo, and in any event probably no more than malicious rumour.’

‘I despise him! He makes my flesh crawl.’

Lord Thaume gave her a not unsympathetic glance. ‘We are not all able to choose our partners,’ he said with a rapid flick of his eyes towards Lady Jilka. ‘Your maidenly modesty
does you credit, but your objections in this case are overheated and hysterical.’

‘In any event,’ said Coppercake, ‘these are proposals, not firm betrothals.’

Oricien leaned forward eagerly. ‘I for one am content with my match. We may proceed instantly, or sooner at your pleasure.’

Lord Thaume held up his hand. ‘You are premature. Duke Panarre has rejected the match. We continue to negotiate, but I find it unlikely he will give away his eldest daughter. He has made a
counter-proposal: Lady Genevieva.’

‘But I thought—’ said Guigot.

‘We will come to you in due course, Guigot,’ continued Lord Thaume. ‘Needless to say, I have rejected the proposal. The only second daughter I would give my heir to is the
King’s. For now, Oricien, we continue to negotiate.’

‘I express a clear and unequivocal preference for the Lady Helisette,’ declared Oricien.

‘You may prefer as you choose,’ said Guigot with evident satisfaction. ‘Panarre will not give her away to you unless your father waives the dowry.’

‘I do not require a dowry!’ said Oricien. ‘The lady’s beauty is its own bounty.’

‘Do you value our house so low, Oricien, that its heir should marry undowered? We should be the laughing-stock of the Emmenrule. I would marry you to Lady Helisette, but only in accordance
with our dignity. You have been reading too many of Lady Cerisa’s romances, to spout such drivel.’

Oricien lapsed into chastened silence.

‘As for you, Guigot, you may infer that Duke Panarre has rejected my proposal with regard to yourself. However, he has suggested Lady Klaera in Genevieva’s stead.’

‘Infamous!’ shouted Guigot, leaping from his seat. ‘She is a halfwit and drools when she eats. No doubt she soils herself hourly.’

Lord Thaume raised an eyebrow. ‘You exaggerate the scope of her afflictions. Granted, her wits are not of clearest water, but with well-trained attendants her condition is
manageable.’

‘This is intolerable, that I should marry a lackwit!’

Siedra leaned across and whispered to Arren: ‘A good match.’

‘She comes with an excellent pedigree,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘I have not rejected the matter out of hand. Remember, Guigot, that for all the excellence of your lineage, you are
heir only to the kingdom of your imagination.’

‘Panarre mocks us!’ shouted Guigot. ‘He would not offer her to anyone he wished to conciliate.’

‘Negotiations continue,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘That is all there is to be said for the present.’

‘I sense a pattern,’ said Siedra. ‘Naturally Duke Panarre has also rejected your proposals with regard to myself.’

Lord Thaume grimaced. ‘In a sense, Siedra. He considers the dowry I am offering to be inadequate. He invited me here on the strength of the ransoms I expect to collect from Jehan’s
Steppe. As a result he considers my wealth higher than Coppercake feels to be accurate. The sticking point therefore remains the size of your dowry. That aside, I feel we may have reached agreement
in principle.’

Siedra began to sniffle. ‘Duke Panarre is so avaricious. Surely his price will be too high.’

‘The match would be strongly advantageous to me,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘I am hopeful that we will reach an understanding.’

Siedra burst into full-fledged sobs and dashed from the room.

‘Jilka, go with her,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘She must be brought to see matters from a broader perspective.’

A firm knocking at the door brought a startled silence.

‘I gave orders that we were not to be disturbed,’ said Lord Thaume testily. ‘Who is there?’

‘It is I.’ Seneschal Tourmi bustled into the room. ‘I apologize for the intrusion, my lord. Duke Panarre requests your presence in the Great Hall immediately, with all your
party. There are grave tidings to convey.’

3

By the time Lord Thaume had led his household to the Great Hall, it was thronged with people of all degrees. Seneschal Tourmi led them to places of honour at the front of
the hall, and Duke Panarre mounted the speaking platform with measured grace.

With a sombre expression he cleared his throat.

‘My thanks to you all for assembling so quickly,’ he said. ‘I have news from Emmen which will keep no longer. King Arren is gravely ill: his life is in the balance.’

Arren was conscious of his heart thudding. He had always felt a bond with the King because of their shared name.

‘A herald has arrived from the court,’ continued Panarre. ‘His Puissance suffered a seizure as he sat at his meat. One side of his body does not move, and he cannot speak. The
apothecaries call such a seizure a Disharmony, since one half of the body is at variance with the other. The viators explain it in terms of the body’s final struggle to achieve Harmony, an
area where I will not venture an opinion.’

‘When did this occur?’ came a voice from the hall.

‘Something around a week ago,’ said Panarre.

Master Guiles looked across at Lord Thaume. By now the King could well be dead.

‘Much remains to be understood,’ said Panarre, ‘and many of the certainties of our existence are removed. Those of us engaged in negotiations on matters of state—’
here he looked at Lord Thaume ‘—will naturally wish to consider these new verities. All must understand that conditions are not as they were.’

Lord Thaume rose, and with a bow addressed Duke Panarre. ‘My lord, these are ill tidings indeed. Our thoughts are with the King and his family, and through the viators we beseech Hissen
and Animaxia to hasten his recovery. Nonetheless, my lord, I must beg your favour to return north. At such a time my place is with my people.’

Duke Panarre bowed in return. ‘Naturally I grant your suit. We can proceed no further with our negotiations as things stand: we will resume them at an appropriate time. Tourmi, kindly
assist Lord Thaume and his party in their preparations.’

Lord Thaume strode from the hall. Siedra was sobbing once again.

‘Do not despair, Siedra,’ said Arren gently. ‘All may yet be well.’

She looked at him with incredulity. ‘Can you be so dense, Arren? I am crying with joy: my betrothal cannot proceed under these conditions. I regret the King’s misfortune, of course,
but he is an elderly man. He must die at some point, and if it brings good fortune to me I give thanks for it.’

‘But—’

‘Arren, do not be so block-headed. You remind me of Oricien, which is not always a compliment.’

As they packed their goods Arren realized that he was the only person who seemed to feel any concern for the old man. Oricien showed considerable irritation, but largely because his betrothal to
Lady Helisette receded yet further; Guigot manifested utter indifference, while Lord Thaume discussed matters of high policy with Guiles and Coppercake. Only Lady Jilka, who had rushed to the
Viatory with Lady Cerisa to supplicate for the King’s recovery, showed any kind of response Arren could understand. A curious ally, he thought.

That night, under a full moon – for Lord Thaume would not wait until morning – the Croad delegation rode out from Glount. The death of a king was a great evil, but not nearly so
great as a crippling illness, for in the doubt of his recovery uncertainty grew like a plague. None wished him to linger at life’s boundary as he made his final reckoning with Harmony, and if
he was not to recover, his immediate death was the wish of all those who desired peace and concord in the realm.

4

Lord Thaume’s party made more rapid progress on the journey home than they had in visiting Glount, and within five days were back in Croad. Sir Langlan’s
welcome was tempered with a grim smile, for the news of King Arren’s illness had already reached the city. Lord Thaume paused only to hand his gallumpher to a groom before striding off to his
audience room to pool information with Sir Langlan. Arren had not been formally dismissed from the party and consequently saw no reason not to follow along with Masters Guiles and Coppercake, and
Oricien and Siedra.

Lord Thaume flung himself into a stuffed chair. ‘Well, Langlan, what matters do you have for report?’

‘I have suppressed no ancient liberties, closed no temples, punished no heretics. In that sense, my regency has been uneventful.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Lord Thaume, pouring himself a goblet of wine. ‘My last absence was marred by altogether too much incident.’

‘It would be wrong, nonetheless, to suggest that affairs have gone entirely according to plan.’

Lord Thaume sat forward in his seat. ‘The King is on his deathbed; Panarre is grasping at my ransoms; my marriage alliances go awry. I hope you refer to nothing further.’

Sir Langlan pursed his lips. ‘Raugier.’

Lord Thaume gave him a quizzical glance.

‘I should more properly say, Lord High Viator Raugier, King Arren’s Commissioner for Orthodoxy. He is presently lodged, with his entourage, in The Patient Suitor.’

‘What is his business?’

‘He will speak only with you, my lord. The title “Commissioner for Orthodoxy” is pregnant with meaning.’

‘Arren has no truck with such nonsense,’ said Lord Thaume, his words falling into an empty silence. ‘The post is surely no more than a sinecure.’

No one responded for a moment. Then Master Guiles said: ‘The King lies ill, my lord.’

‘Jehan is no viator’s puppet.’

‘Jehan is not yet King,’ said Guiles, ‘and yet Arren is less than a king.’

‘Already they gather. What do we know of Raugier?’

Sir Langlan shrugged. ‘He is not a man negligent of status. Sleech tells me he was close to being elected Consort last time around. A Commissioner of Orthodoxy will stand well in the lists
next time.’

‘An ambitious man, then?’ said Lord Thaume. ‘A worldly one, perhaps?’

‘You must meet him for yourself, my lord.’

‘Very well,’ said Lord Thaume. ‘We will invite him to our hall tomorrow. For now, you are all dismissed.’

Oricien filed out with Arren and Siedra. ‘I am hungry,’ said Siedra. ‘Let us go and find Mistress Eulalia.’

Soon the three were sitting at a table laden with the best Lord Thaume could offer. Arren pondered the events which had unfolded so quickly over the past months: Jehan’s Steppe, marriage
negotiations, the King’s illness, and now the arrival of the Lord High Viator.

‘What are you thinking, Arren?’ asked Siedra, leaning close enough that he could smell the fresh soap from her morning ablutions.

Arren gave a half-smile. ‘That we are no longer children. Can you imagine us learning multiplication with Master Coppercake now? Those days are past. We must now make our way in the
world.’

Siedra looked down at her plate. ‘My “way in the world” would appear to involve Lord Dinarre: I see no cause for satisfaction or optimism. You and Oricien may play soldiers as
you choose.’

Arren said: ‘Your marriage to Dinarre may never happen. Panarre will be throwing his children at the new court. He will be hoping to marry Helisette to some Emmen lord. They will have no
care for us up here.’

Siedra gave a wan smile. ‘It is easy for you to be sanguine. You will not have to share a bed with that depraved lummox.’

‘It could be worse,’ said Oricien with a chuckle. ‘You could be like Guigot, marrying a lackwit.’

‘Which reminds me,’ said Siedra, ‘not that I wish his company, but where is Guigot?’

‘He said he was going to the Viatory,’ said Oricien. ‘The matter struck me as unusual but I did not pursue it.’

‘“Unusual”?’ said Arren. ‘Guigot hates the viators, and has little care for the Way. We can assume indirection of some sort.’

‘Perhaps he has gone to find a wench or a doxy,’ said Oricien. ‘He will wish to brag of his deeds in Glount.’

Siedra laughed with unaffected glee, leaning back in her seat. ‘Poor Guigot! The only people who will listen to him are the ones he pays!’ She flung her arms wide and sent a flask of
wine crashing on its side, where it gushed ruddily onto the fine damask cloth.

‘Oh! Maid! Maid! Hurry forth with a cloth!’

Nobody appeared. Siedra bellowed again: ‘Quickly, if you want to avoid a whipping! The damask is ruined!’

From within the servantry issued a maid to mop up the spillage.

‘About time,’ snapped Siedra. ‘What kind of buffoon is Mistress Eulalia employing?’

Arren turned to look at the maid. His mouth fell open in astonishment. ‘Eilla!’