Dave Duncan - Speak to the Devil

“I’m afraid so. It was Anton’s fault.”

“And they’ve quarreled?”

Otto took time to consider. “I don’t think so, not yet. But they may, and we mustn’t let it happen. They’ve done amazing things, but they’re in way over their heads, deeper than hell’s cellar.” He hesitated and then mentioned the other problem because he never willingly kept secrets from Branka. “Wulf got injured on the journey somehow, although his Voices cured him later. Cardinal Zdenek had ordered Anton to marry the late count’s daughter. That would be fine by Anton, confirm his claim to the coronet. Stupidly, though, he ordered her to care for Wulf while he was disabled.”

“Oh, no! Not Wulfgang! He didn’t!”

“It isn’t a matter of doing, I’m sure. But it is a matter of wanting to. On both sides, apparently. Of course it would never have occurred to Anton that those two were both in highly stressed situations. Wulf is terrified that he’s sold his soul to the devil, she had just lost her father, mother, and brother and was ordered to marry a man she’s never even heard of. When you think about it, what happened was almost inevitable. They grabbed at each other like drowning sailors.”

“So you think you’re going to ride off and help them?”

“My love, I have no choice. This is for no one but you, understand?”

“I swear.”

“It’s war! The Wends’ vanguard has crossed the border. Anton was wounded and would have died if Wulf’s Voices had not saved him-for the second time in three days. The main army is sure to follow. Jorgarian forces are weeks or months away and the only defense Jorgary has at the moment is a castle under the command of Anton Magnus, twenty years old and never seen a battle.”

Branka whispered a Hail Mary. Otto said, “Amen.”

She sighed. “When will you leave?” She was a worthy warrior’s wife.

“This morning Wulf and I’ll go on a brotherly outing, visit a few of the tenants. Hint that he has been having thoughts about a certain girl, if you must. We should be back before nightfall. After that… I don’t know. For as long as I’m needed.”

“You have time to say goodbye, big bull.”

Otto found his brother in the lesser hall, again being mobbed by the staff and giving every indication of enjoying it, which he probably wasn’t. The jabber died away as the baron approached. He announced the limited story about Sir Vladislav’s ransom, which was loudly cheered. He added that he and Wulf were going to go riding that morning. He glanced across the table.

“We’ll leave as soon as we can, Wulf?”

Wulf nodded with a smile that did not quite reach his wolfish eyes.

The brothers had no chance for a private chat before they rode out across the drawbridge together, Wulf on Copper and Otto astride his old favorite, Balaam, who was past any serious exertion but steady enough not to panic when Wulf started Speaking miracles. The sun was bright on golden leaves and warm for late September.

They left a lot of puzzled retainers behind them. When the baron went hunting, he took a retinue of beaters, hawkers, huntsmen, foresters, and kennel men. Going visiting, he would never venture forth without a train of at least forty men-at-arms. If he and his brother were merely planning an amble around the environs of the castle, why did they need to take such fat bundles with them, and why had they insisted that the baggage be attached to their horses’ saddles, instead of loaded on a packhorse? He was behaving very oddly.

Wulf was puzzled, too. “What’s the plan, Brother Baron?” he asked as they crossed the bridge. “What’s in the bags?”

“My court clothes, mostly. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll have to journey home the hard way.”

The kid frowned. “Nothing should go wrong.”

“Good. First you miracle us to Mauvnik. How long will that take?”

Wulf pointed to a hawk spiraling down out of the sky. His finger tracked it down until it vanished in weeds at the edge of the pasture and some anonymous rodent died. “About that long.”

“Oh!” Otto wondered if he had overestimated Balaam’s impassivity. “Secondly, we redeem the scrip for gold. The Medici agent there knows me. If Vlad tried to turn it into cash in Bavaria, it would take months.”

Wulf chuckled. “We never thought of that! Old Jurbarkas should have warned us. He’s Anton’s seneschal, decent but doddery. Then what? We call on the cardinal?”

His tone of voice suggested he was ready to argue. Wulf had changed. He was not the same boy who had ridden away with Anton a month ago, two youths going forth to seek their fortunes. Anton must have changed also. They would not be human otherwise, after what they had been through already. And Wulf must guard his secret very closely now. If the cardinal decided that his Speaker helper had served his purpose and become a potential cause for scandal, he would betray him. The Bible said, “Put not your trust in princes.”

The horses entered the coppice, where the air was cooler. With no one overlooking them, this would be a good setting for a miracle.

“It would be safer if I called on the cardinal instead of you,” Otto said. “You are vulnerable. I met Zdenek once, years ago. Father presented me to him. He wasn’t a cardinal then. He won’t remember me, but my title should get me in to see him.” The Magnus name alone should, under present circumstances.

“While I take two thousand florins south to Bavaria?”

“Yes. And bring back Vlad.”

They rode on for a moment. Then calculating golden eyes turned on Otto again. “I don’t have to tell him that Anton is now a count, do I? Please?”

Otto laughed aloud. “Brother, I have sorely missed you this last month! I’d suggest you chain him down first.”

Wulf grinned. “I’ll let you tell him. His face should be worth every florin. Ready for me to Speak?”

Otto dug in his knees and shortened the reins. “Go ahead.”

“You must stay close to me. That’s vital.” Wulf turned his head the other way and addressed empty air, “Holy Saints Helena and Victorinus, hear my prayer.” Pause. “First, would you heal the bruises on my face, please, so I don’t look so gruesome? Thank you.” He glanced around to enjoy Otto’s reaction when he saw that the black-eye bruises had gone. “And now, dear Saints, would you please move us directly through limbo to Mauvnik?”

The world became a silent, silvery mist. Balaam screamed in terror and reared. Otto grabbed the pommel of his saddle and clung tight with his thighs. Balaam bolted along the foggy trail, and now nothing was solid except Wulf and Copper, racing along at their side. Balaam skidded to a halt and tried bucking again like a two-year-old. Eventually the old courser steadied, more from exhaustion than his rider’s direction, but for a few moments it had been Wulf’s horsemanship that had kept the two mounts close together, not Otto’s.

He said, “Sorry! I was a little too sudden with that.” He looked very innocent, but there was a devilish gleam in his eye. The world hadn’t beaten all the boy out of him yet.

“When in Mauvnik, stay at the Bacchus” had been a family motto for generations. Otto was greeted with joyful deference and polite inquiries about “the hardships of my lord’s journey.” Wulf was welcomed back, having spent one night there a month ago.

If all went well, there would be no need to overnight in Mauvnik, but Otto needed a place to change. With Vlad’s ransom in hand at last, he was freed from the penny-pinching of the last two years, so he demanded a private room, no sharing, with two beds if possible-most travelers were happy to sleep three or four to a bed. He also wanted a boy to guard the baggage when he and Wulf were absent, hay and fresh straw for the horses, and the room to be cleaned and ready within twenty minutes. The landlord promised everything he asked.