Kingdom Of Argylle - A Sorcerer And A Gentleman Part 14

Right well beloved husband, I recommend me to you, and knowing your urgency I shall dispatch this letter and your man Hedel as soon as he may be rested and freshly horsed. ! send to you again the pledge-ring I gave to you on our wedding-day, which you sent to me by your man that I might know his message to be truly from you. I do sadly charge you to find some better way for us to know our letters, for this ty no meet way to use a token of my love. Your letter brought me great joy as I had not had since tidings of the Prince Marshal's coming to Ascolet reached me. My joy is greater still that I may help you speedily to conclude your business, and that you may bring it twice as swiftly to the best end, Hedel carries with him in gold double the sum of money you asked of me. Let there be no word of loans and interests between us. Though you have need of men I can provide you only the coin to hire them, for a rider from the Marshal has borne to me a message, saying that in the Emperor's name he will have me raise men for him, and f dare not serve him falsely. That some did volunteer to go with you I can conceal, yet I mislike that any of Lys should enter this war, and J shall delay as I can, for I would no more see Lys blood spilled than yours. I pray that you will make haste to victory and that we shall soon sit at table and A Sorcerer and a (jentkman <=- 135="" dine="" together,="" ft="" must="" happen="" for="" the="" truth="" of="" the="" well="" is="" in="" your="" cause,="" f="" have="" no="" leisure="" to="" write="" half="" a="" quarter="" as="" much="" as="" i="" desire="" and="" i="" pray="" that="" you="" will="" wear="" my="" ring,="" while="" yours="" is="" fast="" upon="" the="" hand="" of="" your="" wife="" lunete="" countess="" of="">

Ottaviano read but halfway through this letter, then threw it down and hastily opened the two metal-bound leather sacks and the coffer Hedel had brought him.

Golden royals lay there, sleek and cold to touch, some new that bore the Emperor's head, some old with the hawk-nosed glare of King Panurgus, three glinting piles of money, enough to hire the whole of Golias's company. Ottaviano, grinning, began laughing softly to himself, and he plucked a coin from each bag and one from the coffer and tossed them in the air, one after the other, pinging them with his thumbnail and dropping them back in their piles.

After several minutes of quiet glee, he recalled there had been something about the Marshal in Lunete's letter, and he took it up again and finished reading it. She had taken the ring-sending entirely in the wrong way, which irked him, but by the Fire she had come through with money and information and the intangible but important aid of time. If she could keep Prince Gaston waiting for the levy from Lys just long enough for Ottaviano to send for and plan with Golias, then she was worth a dozen rings, a different gem on each, one for every finger and two for her ears.

Ottaviano closed up the bags and the coffer again. He'd have the paymaster count the money while he drafted his second letter to Golias. And the Fireduke would get a singeing he wouldn't forget.

The uncrowned King of Ascolet fairly jigged from his cold tent out into the camp to find Dewar to tell him the news, stuffing the letter inside his jacket.

Prince Gaston, the Fireduke, stood with his hands outstretched. Beneath them leapt flames. When the wind died down, they came almost so high as to lick his palms, but never quite managed it, and the Prince Marshal never 136.

'EGza&etA flinched back from them. He was staring into them, thinking hard, and his captains were doing similar things, some crouched, some with their backs to the fire, some rubbing hands over it, some scooping cups of mulled wine from a blackened pot that squatted at the edge of the coals. The Prince Marshal was not fidgeting. When the wind blew, he stood and let it go around him; when it stopped, his cloak fell back to his heels unregarded.

His captains around him respected the Marshal's mood and did not address him directly. They talked among themselves, businesslike and low, reviewing parts of the day's battle and praising or blaming the actors. There was little to blame. The Marshal's forces were superb.

But Prince Gaston had met a nasty shock today on the battlefield, and he was considering what he could do to prevent it happening again. The Fireduke did not like surprises. He especially disliked them when they happened in war. Although he accepted his own fallibility and had years ago come to terms with the fundamental imperfection of all human endeavor, the day's discovery was a thoroughly unpleasant thing to have found out with no warning, no prefig-urement in any of his intelligence.

The flames shaped all with moving light, flowing shadows; and ceaseless wind pushed the flames to and fro. The golden-glowing Prince crossed his arms.

This surprise could cause Landuc to lose the war. His opponent, eight days ago revealed to be Sebastiano's son Ottaviano, styled King of Ascolet, was not badly placed now. He had more local support than before; he was handling the areas he controlled very generously and they had no sense, to see how it would change if he won and took Ascolet from Empire, losing wool-buyers and grain-sellers. He was young and rash, but he showed a canny mind. Gaston wondered what Otto had paid for the sorcery that had cost Gaston blood today: a hundred lives. Surely it had not come cheaply. What paid and how? It might be a weakness.

Flanked like a greenhorn. Gaston's fists clenched. He J3 Sorcerer and a ent(eman 137.

would not be fooled again. If Ottaviano's men could move under cover of illusions, invisible to the Marshal's scouts- then Gaston's scouts must work harder. Sorcery could be countered with vigilance; this he had learned against Pros-pero years before.

If this so-called King of Ascolet was indeed, as Ocher claimed, the man who had wed the young Countess of Lys, Lys might rise to support him; the Lys levy under Gaston's command fought reluctantly now, for some of their own had already volunteered to fight for Ascolet-nominally, treason, but difficult to prosecute when they had done so before the levy. Lys and Ascolet shared a border-but that was irrelevant at the moment. Lys was not in league with Ascolet. Whether Ascolet was in league with Prospero or not remained to be seen.

Ottaviano's sorcerer added another unpleasant dimension to the war. Gaston would have to tell the Emperor they needed a sorcerer. If the Crown wanted Ascolet's uprising put down and Prospero conquered too, the Crown would have to meet Ascolet's forces evenly. It was too easy to waste too many lives thus.

The Emperor would not like it. He, or Pallgrave, would insist that the Empire could not afford it, that the Fireduke must continue without a sorcerer. However, another loss such as that day's at Erispas would require half an army again of him. The Empire could not afford that either, with Prospero pus.h.i.+ng Herne eastward.

The Fireduke flexed his bare hands slowly in a shower of sparks; some landed on the backs, to lie burning there, unburning, not even scorching a hair. He shook them off.

He ought to be in the West, not here. Prospero was the greater threat. Avril should see that. It was a misallocation of forces. The Empire should make an agreement here and let the Fireduke drive the rebellious Duke of Winds back from the sh.o.r.e to the ocean again. The Emperor could recognize the boy as Baron. Prince Gaston suspected he'd take that. Political rhetoric aside, it was more than he had now and he would not have to fight so hard for it. Youth 138 -3.

was impatient. Ottaviano might leap at the chance.

A nephew here, a brother there. The Prince did not like fighting blood-kin.

The Fireduke nodded to himself, spun on his heel with a nod to the circle of men and a quiet good-night, and went to his tent.

There he opened a locked iron box on the table. From it he took things that clinked and c.h.i.n.ked softly against one another, things that gleamed in the lamplight. He poured oil in a long, flat bronze dish from the chest, sat down, drew the lamp a little nearer, and took a light from its wick.

Moments later he faced his brother Avril's image in a sheet of flame.

"Your Majesty."

"Good evening, Gaston. Or is it?"

Prince Gaston shook his head.

"What now?" the Emperor asked, sharply, not hiding his annoyance.

"Our nephew hath worked a trick which I must applaud for its cleverness, Avril, as must you. By all evidence he hath hired Golias."

"Golias!"

"Yes."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed and he breathed slowly, hard. Gaston sat as calmly as he had before.

"You've beaten him before," the Emperor said finally.

The Marshal nodded. "If 'twere but Golias, my plans would not be perturbed. However, together he and Ottaviano, as I judge by the fight Ottaviano hath fought afore this, are more able than either is alone. And 'tis not Golias alone who aids Ottaviano. I took heavy losses today at Erispas. As I pursued Ottaviano, Golias swept in from a wood my scouts had reported empty and did great damage. Truly I was baited-Ottaviano's forces turned and engaged me as Golias. .h.i.t, a perfect trap. Golias had lain low there, concealed by sorcerous working."

"Sorcery!" snapped the Emperor. "You're certain it's Golias?"

"I am certain. I took two of his wounded and put them Sorcerer and a (jentfeman 139.

to question. It is Golias. Ottaviano hath a sorcerer as his ally, but they know little of him save that he worked the spell of concealment on them. Golias is using the same banner as before, also."

The Emperor said a hissing word. Gaston ignored it.

"I must have more men to continue against both; Golias hath a large force and fresh, and I, though I have done well thus far, have been here a while now in severe weather. I fear they will cut my supply lines-although, were I Ottaviano, I'd have sent Golias to do that at once rather than throw him directly at me. Tis a flamboyant gesture, a young man's tactic."

"Cripple you, then jump."

"Aye."

"We cannot send you more men now. Herne needs them against Prospero. He advances rapidly."

Gaston held Avril's eyes through the flame. "Then do I recommend that you make an accommodation with Ottaviano and send me to face Prospero with Herne."

"No."

"An you make the place a barony again, give it to the boy, he might accept it and be satisfied, and I'll take him to the West 'gainst Prospero."

"Landuc does not yield," the Emperor said through gritted teeth.

Prince Gaston said mildly, "Landuc yields naught. Landuc takes his fealty. He becomes a va.s.sal."

"And we still have that jackal Golias around. Maybe we'll say conditionally yes, Gaston-we'll make peace with Ottaviano for Golias's head."

"To whom would you extend this offer?"

"We're joking."

The Fireduke said nothing.

"Or maybe not," murmured the Emperor, and sat back, biting his lower lip. His eyelids sank. "Hm. Hm. Then what do we have. Dead Golias, live Baron of Ascolet, a bunch of loose mercenaries you can pick up . . ." He began to smile. "Ah, Marshal. You are not quite subtle enough. A dead man cannot be made to live, but a live one can be killed. We 140.

'Etizafotfi 'Wiffey will grant Ottaviano, son of a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, the Barony of Asco-let. We will pardon Golias. We shall set thereto a condition: that they shall both with their armies, including those of Lys which are due to us from the imprudent Countess of Lys, oppose Prospero under your command."

Gaston said nothing again.

"We are now not joking," the Emperor said drily.

"I mis...o...b.. how steadfast Golias's hirelings would be 'gainst such opponents as Herne faces."

"Surely the bait can be made very attractive. Every man has his price."

Prince Gaston did not speak, but he shook his head slightly.

"Except you, we all know."

The Fireduke was thinking about it. " Twould be in them to turn on us and demand more at first opportunity," he said at last. "However, if thus is your will, 'twill be done so.

The Emperor scowled. "We hear little enthusiasm, though we have solved your problem for you, Marshal."

Slowly, Gaston shook his head. "It will serve-perhaps. Tis Golias I mistrust. The boy's young. He'd come to heel with a dram of coaxing, meseems-soft words, small favors . . . pity he's married."

"We have no daughter, appearances to the contrary, but we see what you're getting at. Make him Baron, recognize his connection to Landuc, treat him like one of the family. h.e.l.l, he is one of the family if he's Sebastiano's son. Glen-cora can tickle him round. She knew his mother Cecilie and Sithe of Lys-she was one of Anemone's women-and she could use that as an in with what's-her-name. Lys. The only question is when we'd find the time for such folderol. It would be best to get him over there sooner, rather than later."

Avril never changed, thought Gaston. "Well, I will put the proposal to him."

"Let us consider this yet two days more before you do," the Emperor decided.

"Very well. Yet your consideration will cost the Empire Sorcerer and a (jentkman 141.

blood. Let your thoughts hold that also." Prince Gaston inclined his head slightly. The Emperor still had not addressed his second concern. "And the sorcerer?"

"Well, we'd be pleased to throw him at Prospero too. Whichever one got blasted, we'd be ahead. Have you seen him?"

"Nay. Nor have I had success finding out who he is. He must be one of Ottaviano's captains, or feigning so; but they are many and they hail from different quarters, thus none knows much about the rest. My spies have given me scant ground on which to found a surmise, and the prisoners know little of use."

"The idea of a sorcerer getting into such a war is disturbing," the Emperor muttered. "They're all supposed to be under oath to the Well, the Crown. They're not supposed to be able to oppose it."

Gaston waited.

The Emperor shook his head. "We cannot afford a sorcerer. If you wish to hire one, the Empire will sanction the contract but will not be a party to it."

"I see," Prince Gaston said.

"An Emperor cannot make the kind of bargain one of them would want to strike. We cannot engage in that kind of commerce."

"As you will, then. I do not have time to seek one out and negotiate, nor could I delegate such an important task. I will wait for your word on the other business."

13.IN AN ANCIENT HOUSE SURROUNDED BY t.i.tanic gnarled trees which shade and darken every window, a man whose hair and beard are the color of snow warmed by late golden sun sits reading a letter in a deep, comfortably-cus.h.i.+oned arm-chair which has a.s.sumed the imprint of his body through long use. His slippered feet are propped on a little stool embroidered with roses and a motto-"Vere veritatem ser- 142 -= 'EtizaBetfi tWitey vire"-and his elbows are accommodated by cus.h.i.+ons similarly decorated by the same hand. On his long, thin hands are three rings: on the left hand, middle finger, a plain band with a lock of brown hair braided around it; on the right third finger, a gold signet ring engraved with the wearer's arms (five roses in a wreath); and beside it, on the middle finger, a plain, heavy silver ring with a dark-blue cabochon stone. The autumn sun enters the red-curtained windows and angles down onto the brown carpet in heavy, dust-laden beams.

The man's light blue eyes are on the letter, which he holds within eight inches of the end of his nose. His brows are slightly raised with the effort of focusing; his expression is mildly bemused. On his lap lies a handsome book bound in tooled red leather whose spine is a little misshapen, a little frayed at one end; on the floor lies brown wrapping paper and oilcloth and a tangle of string in which the book had been packed. The letter is pleated in many small accordion folds.

A woman stands at one window, looking out through the bare branches of a tree at the gardeners raking and sweeping the lawns. "Father, what is it?" she asked softly after a long, thick silence.

"Eh," he said. "Eh. Come see." Slowly, he lowered the letter and let her quick fingers s.n.a.t.c.h it, her sharper eyes racing over it faster than his. The sun tinted her smoothly knotted hair, which was the color of a winter morning, and to her fair cheeks came the bright hue of emotion.

"Here," she whispered.

"Not even near," her father said. "Not even near. But more here, than elsewhere." He chuckled drily. "Hah. This shall be fun. I am sure he is ready this time."

"Last time he moved too quickly," said the woman softly.

"Anger does that to a man," he said. "Act in haste, repent at leisure. Yet may one consider well and still repent at leisure."

She lowered the letter and looked at him, a line dividing Sorcerer and a (jentfeman 143.

her brows. "We have done nothing to repent of," she said. "I regret nothing, would regret nothing had it been much worse."

"So dost thou repent at leisure with me," said he, but smiling.

"What shall we do?" she asked.

"Do? Nothing."

"Nothing!?"

"Not a blessed thing. Think, Miranda: He knoweth his work. Were there any aid we could render he would ask." The man walked slowly to the window where she had stood in the sun and stood as she had watching the gardeners. "Another winter upon us," he said. "Ah, we have had better fortune than most. Beort, beheaded. Chargrove, poisoned. Tebaldo and Truchio, hanged. The others . . ." He did not finish.

"They will all be vindicated," she said, lifting her chin.

He nodded, his back to her, his mouth turned down. Though their tombs be hammered to rubble, their bodies limed in a pit-grave, would their souls rest easier, vindicated?

Outside, the gardeners removed the leaves from the lawn lest they decay and mar it.

Miranda read the letter again, her eyes devouring each word and taking on fire and intensity of purpose. "If I were a man!" she cried, dropping the letter and striking her palm with her fist. "He would have taken me with him-"

"Nay. He would not," said her father. "He went alone because he must. We understood. Wert thou a man, belike we would have ended as the others." This was an old argument, familiar to both of them, and he sighed a little at its reiteration.

"I know," she said wearily. "I know. Father, I am sorry to plague you. I hate this inaction. It is worse than being dead, being thwarted so, and the waiting, the waiting that has gone on, and now we have only a few words in a letter which may be no more than rumor."

He shook his head. "No. This is true tidings. I feel it 144 -^ 'EGzaJtetk < p="">

"It is good of Fidelio to send the news. He takes a great risk each time," Miranda said. "Someday I shall thank him. Someday he shall thank him."

14.THE STEEP SIDES OF THE PARJPHALS are solid grey rock lightly coated with scree and, below the higher perennially-iced peaks, moraine. The gentler slopes of loose matter provide support for any number of trees large and small and for broad meadows drained by whimsically twisting streams. The mountains' lower flanks are cut by water-graven sheer-sided canyons, whose floors form natural livestock pens for the Ascolet herdsman and a brutally limited field of battle for an army.

Otto had baited Gaston into such a canyon, one which sloped gradually and whose walls were, at first, far apart; Golias had attacked the Fireduke there, and the Fireduke had turned and fought his way out, a purchase not cheap but necessary. Now Imperial soldiers were scattered along the canyon rim, bivouacked and firing bolts at the Ascolet army when it showed itself and sometimes when it only betrayed its presence by movements in the brush and sapling spinneys. Gaston himself lay with more soldiers some little distance away, in the frozen floodplain of the Parphi-nal River where it had scooped out a valley for itself-a canyon again, but one with maneuvering room. A drovers' road to Erispas, unpaved but wide-trampled, ran above the river and, three miles upstream where the cliffs drew together again, a narrow five-arched stone packhorse bridge arched over it, out of reach of the melt.w.a.ter floods.