Glen Cook - An Ill Fate Marshalling

Year 1013 After the Founding of the Empire of Hkazar: Castle Greyfells in Duchy Greyfells, in Northern Itaskia

The colonel stalked through the quiet corridors, each step charged with the nervous energy of a caged panther. Ser­ vants got out of his path, turned to watch after he passed. His tension surrounded him with an aura of danger.

He reached the door of the chamber to which he had been summoned. He stared at it, rose onto the balls of his feet, settled back. He was afraid of what might lie on the other side. This was more than the portal to a room. It was a doorway to tomorrow, and he didn't like the smell of it.

Something was afoot. He had come to the castle last evening, and had found it infested with tension. The Duke was planning something. His people were scared. All the recent Dukes had become involved in schemes that failed, and each failure had brought violence down on the family and its retainers.

The Colonel steeled himself, knocked.

„Enter."

He stepped inside. Six men were seated along the sides of a long table. The Duke himself sat at the table's head. He gestured, indicating the seat at the table's foot. The Colonel sat down.

The Duke said, „Now I'll end the speculation. Our cousin Inger has received an offer of marriage."

One of the others asked, „That's why all the whispers and night messengers? Pardon me, Dane, but that seems a little... ."

„Let me expand. You'll see why it's a matter for the highest family councils.

„Our cousin nursed in a hospital during the siege of the City by Shinsan's forces. She became romantically involved

with a patient. Rather a torrid affair, I gather, though she was understandably reluctant to part with details. When the siege broke and the war moved southward, she thought it was over. She heard nothing from the man. The usual story. Used by a soldier who moved on.

„But four days ago she received a proposal of marriage from the man. She thought it over, then came to me for advice.

„Gentlemen, the gods have smiled on the family at last. They've handed us a golden opportunity. Our cousin's suitor is Bragi Ragnarson, Marshall of Kavelin, who commanded the allied armies during the Great Eastern Wars." Dead silence held the room for half a minute. The Colonel didn't even breath. Ragnarson. Blood enemy of the Greyfells for a generation. Responsible for the assassination of one Duke and the bloody abortion of half a dozen family projects. Probably the man most hated by everyone in the room, saving himself. He was just a soldier. He didn't hate anyone.

He began to sense the shape of the shadow and didn't like it. It was in the tradition of Greyfells schemes.

The six all started talking at once. The Duke held up a hand. „Please?" He waited. Then, „Gentlemen, if that news isn't enough to excite you, consider this. Those fools down there are going to make him King. They couldn't find anybody else willing to take the crown. Do you see? This is an opportunity not only to avenge ourselves on an ancient enemy, it's a chance to steal the crown of the richest and most strategically placed of the Lesser Kingdoms. A chance for us to move our base out of Itaskia entirely and free ourselves of the miserable nuisance of a perpetually inimi­ cal Crown. A chance to seize the most important counter in the conflict between east and west. A chance to recoup the greatness we've lost."

The Duke's excitement communicated itself to the men at the sides of the table. The Colonel was less intrigued. Here was more Greyfells dirty work, and he had a feeling he would be asked to carry part of the load. Why else was he here?

The Duke said, „The simple, basic question is, should we let our cousin accept?" He smiled. „Or, do we dare not let her? It would be a sin to ignore an opportunity like this.

Eh?"

No one demurred. Someone said, „But we couldn't just let it go and hope."

„Of course not. Inger would be the lever. The foot in the door. The distraction. Right now she just wants to see her leman again, but I imagine we can get her to be the family's agent. For insurance, and to take charge of the day-to-day details, I suggest we send the Colonel here."

The Colonel kept his features rigidly controlled. So there it was. And it stunk. There were times when he wished he didn't owe this family a debt of loyalty.

The Duke asked, „Can anyone propose a reason why we shouldn't pursue the policy I'm suggesting?"

Heads shook. One man said, „Something as good as this, you needn't have asked."

„I wanted unanimity of purpose going in. Carried, then? Pursue the possibilities, at least till we see some insuperable stumbling block?"

Heads nodded.

„Good. Fine." The Duke's voice was silky with pleasure. „I thought you'd like it. That's all for now. Let me look into it further. Let me see if there are pitfalls. I'll keep you posted. You can go now." He leaned back. As everyone neared the door, „Oh. Don't discuss this with anyone. Anyone at all. Colonel, yes, I want you to stay."

The Colonel had risen but not left the table. He seated himself again. He rested his forearms on the tabletop and stared at a point over the Duke's right shoulder.

Once the door closed, the Duke said, „Actually, we're farther along than I admitted. Babeltausque put me in touch with some old friends from the Pracchia days. They've agreed to help." Babeltausque was a sorcerer in the family employ. The Colonel loathed him.

„That's a strange face you've got there, Colonel. You don't approve?"

„No, My Lord. I don't trust the wizard."

„Perhaps not. They're a slimy, slippery breed. Neverthe­ less, we seem to have adequate resources for the project. We have but to convert the woman and send her on her way."

„I see."

„I really do get the feeling that you don't approve." „I'm sorry, My Lord. I don't mean to appear negative." „Then you'll take the mission? You'll go to Kavelin on our behalf? You'll be away for years." „I am yours to command, My Lord." And how he wished he were not. But one had to pay one's dues. „Good. Good. Make yourself free of the castle. I'll keep you posted on developments." The Colonel rose, bowed slightly, left the room smartly. A soldier doesn't ask, he told himself. A soldier obeys. And I, sadly, am a soldier in the Duke's employ.

Year 1016 AFE; Rulers

Bragi groaned. Inger shook him again. „Come on, Your Kingship. Get up."

He cracked a lid. One glassless window stared back with a cold eye. „It's still dark out."

„It just looks like it."

He grumbled as his feet hit the chilly floor. It was one of those ice-bottom days, going to turn hellfire come after­ noon. He gathered the bearskin round him and told himself there had to be a point to rising.

It was springtime in Kavelin. The days were hot and the nights were cold. The weather was foul more often than not.

Bragi yawned, tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. „It raining? My head feels like it's packed with wool."

„I wouldn't argue with that. Yes. One of your steady Kaveliner drizzles."

He said what everybody always said. „Be good for the farmers."

She completed the ritual. „We need it." She posed. „Not bad for an old broad, eh?"

„Pretty good. For a wife." There was no heart in his jest.

Her too-small mouth fashioned a pout. „What do you mean, for a wife?"

His grin was as grey as he felt. „You know what they say. That old grass always looks greener."

„You grazing in somebody else's pasture?"

„What?" He heaved himself to his feet, stumbled round looking for his clothing.