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Six
Snude
had anticipated the prince's command to search for other wind-watchers. Sent
down from the accounts room by Stergos, he reassured Conrig that he had
detected no magical surveillance of the castle. The dead body was also
undisturbed.
"But
I didn't mean to kill him, Your Grace. The fellow gave me no choice. He—"
"Your
rash action could have very grave consequences," the prince said sternly,
cutting off the boy's excuses. "I'm afraid you can no longer serve as my
fourth footman."
"Oh,"
said Snudge. His face had gone dull. "Am Ito be sent back to the stables,
then?"
Conrig's
eyes were twinkling. "On the contrary. You are to be made an armiger.
Since you've proved yourself my loyal man in armed combat, shedding enemy blood
on my behalf, I have no other choice. It'll mean a great deal of tedious practice
with weaponry, and learning music and other gentle arts you might think are a
waste of time, but that's the way it goes if you want your knight's belt at
twenty. You'll also have to think up a suitable blazon for yourself. Perhaps an
howlet or a bat or some other furtive creature. A rat wouldn't be quite the
thing."
Snudge's
features were transfigured by joy. "Your Grace, how can I thank you—"
"Enough.
We'll talk about it later and think up a plausible reason for you to've stopped
the Mossy bastard's heart. But follow me now. There's still work to do tonight."
The two
of them set out openly for the duke's private apartments adjacent to the
southeast tower, there being no longer any reason to keep the prince's presence
in the castle a secret.
"You
look a bit grubby," Conrig remarked, as they hurried through the echoing
corridors. Most of the castle had already retired. "And why aren't you
wearing your livery jerkin?"
Snudge
explained about ripping out the coat's lining and worming through the dusty
tunnel. "I didn't think you'd want me looking like a tatterdemalion when
we visited the duke, so I put on my second-best"
"And
how did you know we'd visit the duke?" asked the prince sharply.
"Were you eavesdropping on Stergos and me?"
The boy
managed an apologetic grin. "Only to be sure the Doctor Arcanorum gave
you a complete account of my adventure?'
"Rascal!"
But the prince was smiling, too. "And did he leave anything out?"
"Only
this;' Snudge said, pulling the sigil out of his belt-wallet. The translucent
stone caught the torchlight glow, but there was no sign of the uncanny internal
luminescence. "I didn't tell my lord Stergos that the sorcerer used this
amulet to make himself completely invisible--and imperceptible to arcane
viewers, including me. I located him by following the thread of his
windwatching. This thing enabled him to watch even though he was hidden. With
it, he could perform more than one magical action at a time.
"What
the devil is it?" They stopped and the prince examined the moonstone
closely.
"A
rare kind of magical tool. I read about them in a book that I . . . borrowed
from the Alchymical Library back at
"Stole,
more likely," the prince growled. "Why didn't you hand the thing over
to Stergos? I should think he'd want to study it?'
"I
believe he would have destroyed it, rather than try to find out how it worked.
It's a thing empowered by the Beaconfolk, called a sigil:"
"Bazekoy's
Ballocks! You young lunatic—throw it down a jakes-hole before it does us a
mischief!"
"It's
dead, Your Grace," Snudge reassured him. "At least for the moment.
While it functioned, it shone with a weird light, which vanished when the spy
who owned it died. When we return to
"It
takes power from the Beaconfolk! You don't dare use it. You must get rid of
it!"
"But
think of the opportunity that may then be lost to us." The young voice was
cool and persuasive, for all that Snudge's eyes were dark-rimmed and his face
sallow and oddly blotched, as though with some illness. "The Lady Ullanoth
doesn't hesitate to command the Coldlight Army, knowing the danger. I swear to
you that I'll only study the thing, not attempt to use it. But if you insist
that I throw it away, of course I'll obey."
"Well..."
"One
day we may need the sigil. Trust me."
"Trust!
That's what she always says!"
"But
I have only our best interests at heart, Your Grace, while the Lady of Moss
..." He trailed off.
"Out
of the lips of babes," the prince muttered. "Very well. Keep the
cursed thing. But you'll have to risk pilfering Vra-Kilian's magic books
yourself. No way dare I command my basilisk uncle to lend them out, even to
me."
"Yes,
Your Grace."
"And
keep your mouth shut when we're in Vanguard's chambers, unless I invite you to
speak."
"Yes,
Your Grace."
They
continued on to the ducal apartments. Two guards were posted out-side, who
saluted as the prince and the boy approached.
Conrig
said, "Tell my lord duke I would speak with him."
"At
once, Your Grace." One of the guards went inside and returned almost
immediately. "Please enter."
Tanaby
Vanguard wasn't alone in the sitting room. Earl Marshal Parlian Beorbrook sat
drinking with his old friend at the fire. An unrolled parchment map of the
"Welcome,
Your Grace," Beorbrook said, with a certain ironic attitude. "We were
just about to invite you to join us."
"To
query me about Lady Ullanoth," the prince said equably.
Beorbrook
glanced at Snudge. "Perhaps the lad should wait outside."
"Deveron is my man, and he stays."
The
earl marshal hoisted his black brows. "Does he indeed!"
Snudge
bowed and retreated to a bench in the shadows. Only the small fire and the
candle on the table lit the room.
The
duke lifted the decanter. "Will you join us in a wee noggin, Godson?"
"Gladly?' Conrig drew out his cup, sipped the fiery liquor, and said,
"Much better than Stippenese wine! Did both of you eat your wafers?"
They
nodded. Beorbrook's smile was now openly wicked. "Clever trick, with the
poison. But I think Skellhaven was the only dubious one in the pack."
"You guessed?" the prince asked.
"I'm
the futterin' earl marshal. I'm supposed to be sharp. Made certain that all of
them munched up the antidote goodie, too. Your blockhead godfather, here, was
going to save his and give it to the duchess. Dear Monda has a sweet
tooth."
The
prince paled. "Saint Zeth! I never thought—"
Vanguard
waved a hand. "Let it be. We're all playing a dangerous game .. . And
speaking of games, I think you'd better tell us how you made the acquaintance
of Lady Ullanoth."
"In
a moment, Godfather. But first, I immediately require three strong men, well
armed, whose loyalty and discretion you trust absolutely?'
"Any
of my household knights will serve," Vanguard said. "What's going
on?"
"There's
a dead man in the stables, lying in a far corner of the dormitorium where
Viscount Skellhaven's lackeys are bedded down. The body must be taken away at
once and brought to a prison cell or some other secure place, where Skellhaven
will be asked to identify him and explain his presence here. The man was both a
magicker and a spy, scried out by my brother Vra-Stergos as we held our council
of war."
"God's
Breath!" exclaimed the duke. "This intruder oversaw us and read our
lips?"
"Apparently.
As an ordained Brother avowed to peace, Stergos did the only thing he could
think of, sending young Deveron to confront the villain. There was a struggle,
and the spy was killed?'
"By
your serving boy?" The earl marshal shot an incredulous look at Snudge,
who sat expressionless.
"He
is more than that, my lord. As I said, Deveron is my trusted man." To the
duke: "Godfather, the matter is urgent."
Vanguard
went to the door and told the guards, "Summon Sir Myndon, Sir Tiralos, and
Sir Naberig. Be quick."
When he
returned, he asked permission of the prince to question Snudge, and so did the
earl marshal. But the boy only confirmed what Conrig had said, adding that he
had made his way to the stables through the secret passages, which the Doctor
Arcanorum had sketched out for him from childhood memories.
"But—weren't
you afraid to confront a sorcerer?" Beorbrook asked.
"We
don't know that he was one, Earl Marshal," Snudge dissembled. "More
likely he was just a wind practitioner particularly adept at scrying. A skinny
little fellow, but he came at me like a wildcat. I clouted him with a bucket,
and then we fought, and he ended up stabbed?'
Beorbrook
grunted. "Too bad. It would have been useful to question him. As it is,
we'll make do with Skellhaven, as His Grace suggested. Go back to your seat,
lad?' He turned to the prince with hooded eyes. "This is a serious
development, and we can only hope that the invasion hasn't been betrayed. Could
this fellow have been an agent of the Conjure-Princess?"
"Hardly,"
said Conrig. "Why should she bother, when she herself helped draw up the
plan of action? In my opinion, he came from Ullanoth's younger brother Beynor,
who knows she covets the throne of Moss. According to their laws, the reigning
monarch may appoint his or her successor. Thus far, King Linndal favors the
son, whose arcane powers are supposedly stronger than those of his sister. This
is why Ullanoth decided to make her bargain with me?' He paused, then plunged
into the lie. "As to how she and I first met, it happened in Thunder
Moon, a few weeks after the murder of the delegation to Didion. Stergos and I
were taking our ease in a stone pavilion at Brent Lodge after a boar hunt,
looking out at a great storm approaching from across the lake. Suddenly the
Lady Ullanoth appeared before us in the form of a Sending?'
"That's
a kind of living ghost, is it?" the earl marshal asked.
"Not
really. The apparition is quite solid. To Send requires extraordinary talent
and strength, such as none of our own alchymists possess?' He lifted his
shoulders and smiled. "My brother explained the process, but I have
forgotten the details. The lady proposed an alliance, and we discussed the
matter at great length while the storm raged around us."
"This
was your only meeting?" Vanguard asked.
"Nay.
She came again, and we refined the scheme and discussed every aspect of the
invasion, and agreed on the terms of her benefice and guerdon should the
venture succeed. She even helped to select the nobles I would invite to
participate in the enterprise, including Skellhaven."
There
was a loud knocking at the door. The prince said, "May I take the liberty
of instructing your knights, Godfather? I've worked out a way the body might be
removed without raising suspicion among the others in the dormitorium."
"Go
ahead," said the duke. When the prince went to the door and was out of
hearing, Vanguard spoke to Beorbrook in a low voice. "What do you think,
Parli?"
"Disturbing,
this Beynor knowing about the council of war. Makes you wonder if Ullanoth has
other fish to fry. We'll have-to talk to the doctor, but I reckon he'll back up
his brother's judgment:'
Both of
them had completely forgotten Snudge, sitting motionless in the darkened room.
"The
two princes were close as lads," the duke recalled. "Young Con always
the cleverest, knowing what he wanted and often not scrupling at how he got
it." "I'll say! That damned wine .."
"Aye.
But that ploy might have been my own fault. I refused to detain any nobles who
opposed the invasion:'
"And
now it's on, for better or worse, and maybe compromised already. Bloody her
"Well,
we still have the option of turning back at
"If
it suits her; the earl marshal said cynically. He fell silent as the prince
returned.
"I
told them to bring the covered body to the gatehouse armory," Conrig said.
"Let's fetch Lord Skellhaven and have a look at it."
"I've
never clapped eyes on the wanker in my life," said the seagoing viscount.
"Look at him. Just another underdeck swabbie." He bent forward
suddenly and spread open the body's blood-stiffened shirt, where a yellow gleam
had shone momentarily in the torchlight. "Booger me! What kind of lackey
wears a heavy golden neckchain like this?"
Vanguard
and Beorbrook exchanged glances. If Skellhaven did know the identity of the
spy, would he have called attention to the betraying chain?
The
viscount unfastened the gold from around the corpse's neck and held it closer
to the armory's sputtering wall torch. "I'll tell you something about this
bauble, Your Grace. It's Mossbelly-made. Nobody else uses twisted-wire links
like these, and the thing's worth a pretty penny."
Conrig
said, "My lord, did anything unusual take place before you set out to
Castle Vanguard, or on the journey?"
"Hmm.
We had a problem at one inn a day's journey from here. A dozen or so of the
lads got royal gut-aches after eating rabbit pies that'd turned. They moped and
moaned and browned the hedgerows all the next day riding into Castle Vanguard.
Some of 'em still feel a mite seedy."
Conrig
addressed the duke and earl marshal. "My brother Stergos has told me that
when a man is ill, he is more susceptible to the spells of a magicker. Perhaps
this fellow"—he tapped a dead shoulder—"did away with one of your
retainers and took on his identity."
"It's
possible," said Skellhaven. "Those few who weren't sick were in a
rare kerfuffle for doing all the extra work and might not have noticed a
clever stranger. I sure as hell didn't."
"We'd
like to believe that." Conrig's face was carefully neutral.
The
nautical lord's eyes blazed. "Huh! So you think I might be in league with
Didion, do you, Your Grace? Well, you're wrong! I hate the whoresons and their
fancy ships that sail rings around our own while the Diddlies raid our coastal
settlements and rape our women. And now that the Wolf's Breath's laid the scum
low, I say let's drag 'em kicking and screaming into the Sovereignty! Civilize
Didion once and for all. If you don't trust me to join your invasion, so be it.
But you'll be losing the services of some of the best fighters in the north
country."
The
prince said, "Ride with our force, Hartrig Skellhaven, and welcome."
The viscount
gave a curt nod. "Can I keep the gold chain?"
Conrig
and Snudge returned to the darkened library just as the nightwatch called the
midnight hour. The great room had grown cold and the fire burned low. Moonlight
shone through one of the long windows. The three Heart Companions were snoring
among the stacks and the armigers had disappeared upstairs.
"Go
to your own bed now, Snudge;" whispered the prince. "I'll disrobe by
myself. You've done well this day and I won't forget it. You're looking rather ill.
If you think you might suffer bad dreams over the killing, take a good tot of
spirits for a nightcap."
"Thank
you, Your Grace. Do you think I should watch Lord Skellhaven to be sure”
"I
believe he's an honest man, by his own lights. Don't worry about him. And for
heaven's sake, don't strain yourself with any more windwatching tonight.'
"The body—"
"The
duke will see to it. We'll say the man died of virulent colic brought on by the
dicky rabbit pie. Off you go, now:'
The
prince entered his improvised sleeping chamber. The-great bed with its brocaded
tester and coverlet had to have been disassembled and brought in piece by
piece, for it nearly filled the entire scribe's office. There were tarnsticks
on a sidetable beside the candle and he struck one. The thing flared, then
died. Damp, probably. Conrig cursed and scratched another against the wood of
the table. When it also refused to light, he used his talent to ignite the
wick, closed the door, and removed a silver flask from his trussing coffer. He
tossed back a hearty swig of malt liquor and sat down on a stool to pull off
his boots
Froze
as he felt the presence, smelled the warm green scent of vetiver.
The bed
hangings parted, and a lovely narrow face peered out. Her eyes shone like green
jade, and her long wavy hair was the color of pearls, covering her bare breasts
like a silken shift.
"You!"
he exclaimed, starting to his feet. "Were—were you watching again?"
Smiling,
she put up a warning finger. "Hush. We don't want to disturb the others,
my prince. I saw you with Vanguard and Beorbrook and Skellhaven, but I did not
eavesdrop, for I cannot do lip-reading. My lips are fashioned for other
purposes.
"Great
God, lady—!"
She had
left the bed, naked as a fish, and was unfastening his doublet, easing it off,
opening his shirt. "All has gone perfectly, hasn't it? And now you shall
tell me everything and then claim your reward." She opened her arms and
the veil of shining hair fell to each side. "I assure you that my Sending
enjoys every attribute of my true self."
The
prince felt the blood rising within him. He had to force the words from his
throat. "I—I am a married man, and faithful to my vows."
A
laugh, sweetly scornful. "Your sharp-spoken Tarnian wife has given you no
children during your six years of marriage, and for some time you have secretly
despised her?'
"That's
not true!"
"You
have even considered putting her aside, now that the alliance with
"How
did you know—"
"I
know so many things about you." She embraced him. Her mouth was hot and
tasted of exotic honey. "Are you afraid of me, Conrig Wincantor?"
"No," he lied, and crushed her to him, returning the kiss.
Snudge
lay on his pallet in the room above. He had drunk a fair amount of ardent
spirits and his talent was extinct as a result, useless as a blown-out taper.
But his mind's eye still saw a wrathful face, a wide-open mouth full of rotten
teeth, ferocious magic glittering in jet-black eyes. He sensed his own doom
approaching, cloaked in paralyzing frost, and his windvoice screamed.
Damn
you! You won't! You won't do that to me!
His
dagger vibrated with the last drumbeat throb of a stricken human heart. He
heard the frenzied windcry—Beynor!—and those eyes bright with dreadful life
turned flat and dull and dead, only to open again and threaten and freeze and
die once more.
He
prayed for sleep, but it would not come.
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