Kingdom Of Argylle - A Sorcerer And A Gentleman Part 2

Prince Josquin, mallet on shoulder, selected his next shot. His aunt Princess Viola had had the croquet lawn and an impeccable formal garden emplaced many, many years before, wheedling them out of her father when she was in particular favor for some forgotten reason, and she made use of them erratically for garden-party amus.e.m.e.nts. The Princess was sympathetic to her nephew and had arranged today's entertainment specially for him, and also to spit in her brother the Emperor's eye, because she had invited a considerable number of people who would not usually have received invitations to Palace functions.

"It's almost as good as billiards," said Earl Morel's son, who was not among these this year.

Josquin stared at him, astonished. "I'll take billiards any day."

"More people at croquet."

"As I said."

"When did Your Highness weary of society?"

Josquin chuckled. "Not exactly that. For mixing and meeting, croquet serves very well, but for a game - ** He bowed to the Countess of Roude, who had taken her turn at the other side of the lawn, and made his own shot.

"Oh, I'd have to agree with you there; no comparison possible. - I understand Bright.w.a.ter is either fled or dead."

Josquin kept from starting or showing particular interest. "I'd heard something of the sort. Dead? How dead?"

Morel's turn was up; he aimed and overshot his wicket. "Dash. Well, there was a devilish fire in rooms he kept at the Broad s.h.i.+eld - I'd no idea he had quarters there, but evidently he did, besides living at the Greenhead. Double life, eh? Anyway the fire - it's quite something to see the build- Sorcerer and a Qenttenum.

19.ing-it burnt everything but the nails and there's not an eyegleam of him now."

b.a.l.l.s clicked together, jostling at the center wicket.

"Great shame if it's so. Smoking in bed, perhaps," Josquin said. "He had an eye for horses." He strolled toward his green-blue ball for his turn.

Morel laughed ruefully. "Yes, you won quite a lot on his pick."

"I was pleasantly surprised by that. I'd never have chosen Bezel's nag myself, but it was worth the flutter. Has he run her lately?"

Morel's first love was cards and his second was the track. Josquin had channelled the discussion away from Bright.w.a.ter, a subject on which he knew Morel could have no further intelligence than the Emperor.

Which was a pity, Josquin thought, nodding as Morel recounted a race, because he'd like to hear more about Bright.w.a.ter from somebody, sometime, somewhere. Harrel Bright.w.a.ter was not the sort of fellow to smoke in bed and burn down an inn. The Prince stared at the lawn, a little chill running down his back as he thought of Bright.w.a.ter's slow-starting smile and his brilliant blue eyes, his sensuous low voice, his hard-muscled broad-shouldered body when he was fencing coatless and loose-s.h.i.+rted in Bellamy's yard- "Your Highness," interrupted Lady Filday, "I sue you for mercy and beg that you will not send my poor little ball off to go bushwhacking in the pansies when I have only just escaped them."

Josquin banished Bright.w.a.ter, thinking he'd trade a year with all these people for half an hour with him alone, and made her a pretty reply.

The game and party proceeded languorously. It was an unusually warm day; the guests murmured over the temperature with little energy for genuine indignation. Josquin circulated through the crowd, greeting everyone, wearing his official-function manners. Pity Aunt Viola hadn't invited some of the wilder fellows. There might have been something to break up the tedium. She did mean well, though, and it was better than reading trade statistics, and watching 20 -3 'EGzaBetH itfittey certain of the n.o.bility reacting to certain of the guests was better than a play. One enterprising gambler had calculated handicaps for all the ladies present and was surrept.i.tiously collecting wagers, beside the gentlemen's punchbowl, on their performances at croquet. Lady Filday was doing unexpectedly well, to the pleasure of one of her nephews.

The Emperor and Empress were not in attendance. Avril rarely deigned to grace his siblings' parties; today the royal couple sat in a first-floor parlor shaded by a grove of the most ancient trees on the grounds, which must not be cut or pruned. It had been a preferred room of his father's, but the Emperor disliked it because the trees made the room dark and made him uncomfortable with their age and size, and so he used it only when the weather made it expedient, as today. The parlor had a small terrace outside onto which opened tall windows. In s.h.i.+rtsleeves, eschewing formal clothing, the Emperor lounged in an armchair and read Bright.w.a.ter's dossier.

The Emperor of Landuc retained an agile and able staff of spies, gossips, sponges, sneaks, ears, and eyes. With only three of these set on Harrel Bright.w.a.ter's trail, directed by the indefatigable Count Pallgrave, he had in hand within three days a thick sheaf of notes regarding the still-absent Bright.w.a.ter's life in Landuc.

Bright.w.a.ter had departed Landuc through the city's Fire Gate at a quarter past the sixth hour of the night on the night that Prince Josquin had fallen into an unexplained stupor. He had appeared to have arrived on some vessel the previous autumn, but his name was on no pa.s.senger list; he had owned no baggage but a haversack. His funds had apparently come from selling a Spinel Street jeweler a trio of large pearls, an exceedingly fine diamond, and a pair of rubies. He paid all his bills on time. He had interests in rare books, maps, charts, astrology, alchemy, and history and he was, according to the merchants at the Broad s.h.i.+eld where he had roomed and dined daily, a courteous man who could converse intelligently and with interest on many subjects but who also had seemed clerkish and unworldly. They had Sorcerer and a Qentkman 21.pegged him as a n.o.ble's scholarly younger son come to the city to seek a Court position; he had never spoken of kin or country to them, and they supposed him without estate or local relations. The Emperor frowned. A gentleman, even if he has no estate, has family-indeed, cannot be said to exist without it. There was no Harrel to be found on any branch of the Bright.w.a.ters' family tree.

Only late this spring, after spending autumn and winter in a hermit's routine of books and study, had Bright.w.a.ter taken up a social life. The Emperor had tailor's bills, descriptions of clothing, dates. The last item was a finely damascened straight sword from Bellamy's; that same morning, the day of his midnight departure, Bright.w.a.ter had picked up in person (suspicious in itself-he had no valet) a new travelling cloak at Gamtree's, winter-weight and winter-styled, of the finest blue-green double-woven Ascolet wool, a peculiar garment for summer's hottest days. The earliest order was for a pair of stylish suits from Gamtree, and a week later Bright.w.a.ter had bought his fine horse. A few days after boarding the horse at an hostler's, he had moved to a more-costly less-sedate inn, the Greenhead, and had paid in advance for two months' lodging, though he had kept his place at the Broad s.h.i.+eld as well and had divided his time between the two. The Greenhead innkeeper knew him as a man of informed and expensive tastes.

Bright.w.a.ter had promptly made a place for himself as a regular card-player and dicer and had appeared to be setting determinedly on a rake's progress downward, seeking out the stews and gambling dens. He won more than he lost. Earl Morel's son had introduced him to Josquin at a card table in one of these loose-knit clubs. Josquin had taken to him at once, but the night the man dined with the Prince Heir in the Imperial Residence was the first time he had been in the Palace.

The Emperor reviewed this and nodded thoughtfully. The man had studied Josquin's movements, gotten in with his crowd, gotten close to him, and struck.

But how and why? The Prince Heir was alive and well. He 22 -= 'E.Cizabeth itfittey had suffered no obvious ill effects from his night- and daylong nap. What did,it mean, that Josquin had seen him throwing-nothing?

The Emperor growled and rose, pacing, impatient with the puzzle. He had no illusions about Josquin. The boy was clever enough but too lazy to think, and this was a direct result of that. It was time for him to take on more responsibility, to be forced to think. He was wasting his time in Landuc, his time, his allowance, his body- He pa.s.sed, in his restless circuit of the room, the divan on which the Empress was reading letters of her own. She wore a gold-embroidered opal-green dress of very light silk, and with her fine blonde hair and pale skin, the effect was cool and wintry, belied by her languid, deliberate movements. Glencora, who had been reared in worse winters than this summer, coped with the swelter instinctively.

"Avril," she said, finis.h.i.+ng a letter.

He grunted.

"Are you thinking of sending Josquin away?"

"Yes."

She folded the letter, her wide eyes on his light-red head. The Emperor felt the pressure of her gaze but did not look back at her. It was a contest of wills of a sort.

"Do you have some destination in mind?" she asked.

"Yes."

"May I ask what it is?"

The Emperor said nothing.

"Avril," she said a little severely, setting her narrow chin.

"Tyngis," he said shortly.

"No!"

"Yes."

"At this time of year! Avril!"

"Exactly. Winter is coming."

"They do nothing but drink from dawn to dawn there and there is nothing to do but that. Do you think that will improve him?" the Empress demanded. "1 agree that he must do more than dissipate himself, but Tyngis has nothing to offer."

"Clearly you have a preferred destination already in mind Sorcerer and a (jentfeman 23.and we shall have no rest until we hear it," the Emperor muttered.

"Send him to Madana."

"He has spent too much time in Madana. He will do nothing but more of the same there." The Emperor curled his lip at the thought of Madana. Josquin had pa.s.sed his boyhood and youth in Madana, and his father blamed ail of his present character flaws on it.

"I do not think so," the Empress said, folding her delicate hands with precision. "In the past he has been there and behaved very creditably. You surely remember that he even managed to jolly around Sagorro."

"Because he's the same stripe of wastrel as our son, only older."

"He jollied him into signing that treaty."

That was true. The Emperor grumbled wordlessly and finally looked at the Empress. "Madana," he said.

"Yes. My cousin Iliele could host him."

"Iliele?" The name was utterly unfamiliar. The Emperor shrugged; his wife was related to half of Madana.

"She has a daughter, Avril."

"Do women think of nothing but marriage? Josquin is not marrying your cousin's daughter. Indeed if he doesn't mend his ways it will be difficult to talk anyone into having him."

"Don't be silly. He's our son," the Empress said firmly.

"True." The Emperor shrugged again. "So your cousin has a daughter on the market and she wants Josquin to look her over."

"You don't understand," the Empress said, exasperated. "They'll be having many social events, parties, outings, what you will-don't you see? It's a very good set of people, but they're the independent Eastern landowners-"

The Emperor comprehended. He smiled slowly, narrowly. "Glencora, you are a very marvel. By all means let Josquin go to East Madana. His drinking prowess will awe them into supporting us more openhandedly, he can win them over with his dicing and cards, he can escort his umpteenth-cousin Iliele's daughter, and if we are extremely 24.EGzaBetk fortunate he'll lose his virginity to the girl."

The Empress blushed and glared at him.

"East Madana it is," the Emperor said. "Yes, things are quiet in Tyngis. It will do him good to go south for the winter."

4.DRAINED OF SORCERY, PROSPERO DREAMT OF death.

Prospero's dream-self ran leaden-legged through mighty colonnaded trees of a forest-perhaps the forest that surrounded his island of safety in the Well-scourged wastes- pursuing glimpses of Freia fleeting through the trunks, chasing her with sluggard feet, pursued himself by a consuming darkness that drew closer and closer to his back, devouring the world. The darkness was blood-stained, blood-black; he had made it himself, and it would destroy him as it would destroy all around it, but if he could but reach Freia there might be some hope.... He never caught her; when the darkness reached his neck he'd wake breathing rapidly, his heart rattling in his breast, recalling that he'd had the dream more than once before this, turning, sleeping again.

Now he darted with dream-urgency through the dark trunks, and this time the dream was different. Freia was going more slowly; he saw her between two trees ahead of him, and though the destruction he fled was on his heels he thought he could catch her. She paused, looking away, and he drew near; she went forward, and he followed, pa.s.sing betwixt the two trunks.

They were not trees, but columns. He stood in his own hilltop tomb in Landuc between two pillars supporting the portico, lichen- and vine-covered stone festooned with dark wild grapes hanging in cl.u.s.ters, the sepulchre foully whited by generations of nesting birds. It was a masterpiece of neglect, Avril dealing superficial insult because he was incapable of real injury; Prince Prospero flourished yet, for the Sorcerer and a 25.Node of the Well's power that rose here still pulsed through him where he stood gazing toward the approach that led to the ivied arch over the stair down the hill.

With dream-suddenness, someone stood there in the archway. Prospero stepped forward.

The visitor approached slowly. Prospero's leadenness had left him, and now he was in command of himself, thinking with exactness and lucidity. This was a portentous dream; that they met at his tomb signified that they two were deeply linked, and Prospero must a.s.sure that later he would know who this man was, what he was. The man was a stranger now, but Fortuna would cast them in one another's paths. Prospero felt his blood within his body surge and reach toward the man, and he knew: a near connection.

"Though we meet at my tomb, I am not dead," Prospero said.

The visitor nodded.

Prospero looked penetratingly at the young man; it was plain to see that he was a man of oceans, rivers, waterfalls, alive and active. The visitor's face was intelligent, his eyes an uncommonly pure and brilliant blue. The Well leapt bright in him, contained and channelled: he was a man of powers, then-but Prospero was a sorcerer, accustomed to binding power. "I lay upon thee this geas. Thou shall seek me until we meet, and when we meet shall thou tell me thy name and lineage thai I will know thee."

The fellow seemed disorienled, sludying Prospero, perplexed.

"Safe journey," Prospero said. "That which brought thee here will bear thee safely away." Behind the young man, Prospero's late father Panurgus reached for the youth's arm and spun him around, and they vanished as they turned; Prospero turned himself, back to his suddenly-enlarged tomb (as high now as a temple), and saw Freia small and forlorn in her pretty green dress, standing between Iwo ma.s.sive stone columns. Prospero started toward her, but the dream dissolved as he did.

Beneath the tree that stood beside his life-soaked Spring, Prospero turned and drowned his dream in deeper sleep.

26 -^ 'Elizabeth 'Wittey Josquin's valet had packed everything. In order to allow him to do it, the Prince Heir went a-hunting with his uncle Prince Herne and his aunt Princess Evote, and a large party of others, while the work was underway. When he returned he observed approvingly that efficient Orle had finished.

One small case was on the bed, as the Prince had instructed. As his valet began filling the bath, Josquin opened the case. He took the keys to his desk from his pocket, opened the desk, and froze.

A very unpleasant frisson went through him.

He began dumping things out of the desk onto the floor, pulling out drawers and rifling them carelessly, feeling all the while a deadly certainty that he would find nothing but stationery, pens, old notes and invitations, creased and stained lOUs, seals, nibs, ink-bottles, calling-cards, bills, pencils, sealing-wax, pocket-sized memorandum-books....

When the desk was emptied, he looked in the waiting case on the bed. Then, pale and sicker by the minute, he bolted from the room.

He hurried through the Palace to the Emperor's apartment. His father was dressing for dinner and frowned at the unseemly interruption.

"What is this?'1 snapped the Emperor.

"Leave us," Josquin ordered the valet.

The valet looked at the Emperor, who frowned more and nodded. He left.

"They're gone," said Josquin, sitting down on the bed.

"What's gone?"

"My Map. My Ephemeris."

The Emperor whitened. "Gone? How could they be gone?" "Not in my desk. I've got the key. Only key," Josquin whispered.

The Emperor looked at the clock. There remained a quarter of an hour before dinner. "We'll go to your rooms."

They hurried there. The Emperor looked at the mess.

"You found it thus?"

"No. No. I, I came in from hunting with Herne. Saw that Sorcerer and a gentleman 27.Orle had done the packing. He'd left this case as I'd told him to; I meant to put the book and the Map in it. 1 unlocked and opened the desk and saw they weren't there. I searched."

The Emperor glared at his heir. "When did you last use them?"

Josquin shook his head. "Two and a half years ago at least. I went to Brutt with Uncle Fulgens. I haven't looked at them since."

"When did you last open the desk and see them?"

"I- Hm." Josquin sat down at the desk and closed his eyes. "I took out some cards last month, and they were there then. Yes."

"Last month," the Emperor repeated quietly.

"I'm not in the habit of looking at them daily!" Josquin cried defensively. "Who-"

"Most likely we know who."

"Bright.w.a.ter?" whispered Josquin, horrified.

The Emperor strode out.

Within Prospero's cave there stood two beds, one at each end of the long room. The one was high, carved and deep-curtained, its panels rich with broidered allegory and arcane signs; the other was low, a simple white cot half-hidden behind a screen painted with woodlands and hills, screened from the chill stone of the cave wall by an arras depicting herbs and trees of many varieties, none local. The fireplace was empty and cold, bare of ashes, and two high-backed chairs stood, unoccupied, to either side of the hollow hearth. All around were shelves and cupboards of dark wood, carved or inlaid with geometrical patterns, burdened with heavy books and parchments and things of metals, wood, and stone, with locks and seals and knots to ward them from curiosity.

A sweet, velvet-warm breeze stirred through the cave, rustled the dried herbs suspended from the roof, rippled the arras, and left.