Dave Duncan - When the Saints

He sat where she had told him and stared blearily across at her. “Very strange people, my lady.”

“No, just greatly blessed. You are being talked about all over Europe. Already! Oh, not generally, but the Wise know, the top people know: Speakers and cadgers and rulers. In Paris and Toledo and Edinburgh and Oslo… You pulled off a military miracle and made it seem like an act of God. The latest rumor is that Duke Wartislaw’s head has turned up in a slop bucket and the rest of him is still missing. Lesser folk will marvel and praise God when the news of the Wends’ destruction reaches them, but the ones who really matter have heard it already-the pope, the sultan, the queen of Castile, and one or two other kings and queens. And they know who did it, which the others never will.”

“And Crown Prince Konrad?” That was whom Wulf had come to meet. A political discussion with the marquessa could wait until another day, lovely as she was. Or as she had seemed… A more careful regard told him she was at least ten years older than he had first supposed, pretty enough, but not the dazzling beauty he had first believed. Or that a workaday would believe, maybe. He still had much to learn about the use of talent.

“Cabbage Head?” she said. “He will never be trusted with Speaker secrets if he lives to be twice the age his grandfather is now. The old king never knew, although he must have suspected. Only the Scarlet Spider and a dozen or so other people in the kingdom.” She sipped her wine with lips that were not the ruby Cupid’s bows he had thought; just lips.

“So he did not send for me?”

“He has never heard of you and doesn’t want to.”

Time to go.

“Then, if you will excuse me, my lady-”

“Stay where you are and listen. You are a highly effective, insanely courageous, and possibly even honest Speaker. Any cadger in Christendom would gladly jess you, on any terms. You could be the answer to almost anybody’s problems. I didn’t think you had realized that, and thought you ought to know.”

He nodded stupidly and belatedly said, “Thank you.” He distrusted flattery. As long as whatever she wanted of him did not involve the bed, he had better stay and learn.

She smiled. “So let me get my problem in first. My cadger is a respected gentleman, elderly now, a longtime member of the Saints. He flies three or four falcons and is very wealthy because of it, of course. Owns about a third of Tuscany. My present client is Cardinal Zdenek, and my duties are to dance attendance on Cabbage Head. I try to keep him from breaking his neck in the tilting yard and I keep an eye open for other Speakers trying to tweak him. That’s the most important part. Any day now he’s going to be promoted to king, and then my contract ends. I absolutely refuse to extend it, but my cadger is reluctant to leave a reigning monarch without protection.”

The juvenile seductress had totally disappeared now. The woman who remained seemed hard and glittering, reminding him of a bronze morningstar, a weapon that could extract a man’s brains without removing his helmet.

“I understood that cadger and falcon were equal partners and had to agree?”

“In theory, yes.” The marquessa took a sip of wine while keeping her gaze on Wulf, as if counting every twitch of his eyelashes. “But a cadger has the option of forbidding his falcon to use any power whatsoever. This is especially true when he flies several falcons. All she can do then is try to impale him on a rusty pike, but his other Speakers will defend him. Frankly, I want to marry and have children before I’m too old, and this is not the place to do that.”

All of which might be the truth, some of the truth, or nothing like the truth.

“Surely His Majesty has hirelings to protect him. Won’t they stay on to defend his successor?”

“Their contracts lapse, too, and they have been working twelve-hour shifts for months, just keeping the old warhorse breathing. Zdenek has a couple of his own, but the same thing applies to them. The new king’s first act is likely to be booting Zdenek into the moat, if not arresting him and charging him with treason on any fantastical excuse he can think of. The result will be no Speaker protecting the king and the king not even aware of his danger.”

Wulf was too tired to think straight. “So where do I fit in?”

Darina drained her glass and reached for the carafe. “Last week, during the hunt aingh="1em" t Chestnut Hill, your brother jumped a ditch into notoriety. A dozen fools tried to follow him and met with disaster. Two of the prince’s closest cronies have since died and more are still in plaster. Then the Spider promoted this Magnus madman to earl of Cardice! Cabbage Head saw that as a deliberate stab in his eye and threw a temper tantrum, but as a result the whole court learned for the first time about the Magnus family and its centuries of loyalty to the House of Jorgar.” She smiled cynically. “Stupid, really. If your loyalty is never in doubt, you never need bribing. It’s the shaky ones who get wooed by both sides… Never mind that.” She clattered the carafe down on the table and lifted her goblet again.

“I was hoping that your loyalty might impel you to take the new king under your wing until such time as someone with some sense takes over the kingdom-a new first minister or a warlike neighbor.”

Wulf laughed aloud and tasted the wine. “Last week I was my brother’s varlet. Now you want me to run the country?”

“Somebody will have to.”

“Me?” He grinned at her. “Wouldn’t I have to live here, in the palace? Hang around with the king? Attend court? And he blames my brother for his friends’ deaths. How do I win his trust and approval?”

He expected her to say that he could tweak his liege lord, which he would certainly never do. But that wasn’t what she suggested. “Just smile.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “Cabbage Head has a great fondness for handsome young men. When he sees your silver hair and golden eyes he’ll melt into the carpet. And those calves will make him swoon.”

“Oh, no!” Wulf sprang to his feet. “There are many ways to get burned at the stake, my lady, but sodomy is the last one I’ll ever try. I thank you for the-”

“Wait!” She rose also. “Before you make up your mind, come and pay your respects to your dying lord. He deserves that much.”

Wulf followed her to the door reluctantly, still looking for the trap. Again she expected his arm as they proceeded along a corridor, which was wide and high, floored with tiles of black and white marble, lit by candles in sconces every few feet. The plastered walls bore faded frescoes of battle and tourney.

“I know this may sound incredible in view of his reputation,” Darina said, “but the prince is practically sexless. His lechery is all bluff. I’m officially his mistress, but I swear to you that the door between our rooms stays closed. About once a month he’ll come calling, always when he’s very drunk. He’ll have a quick scramble and then go back to his own bed. I complain loudly in public about how demanding he is; that pleases him, but it’s all pig manure. As for the young men, I’m not sux20s ore he is even aware how he ogles them, although of course everyone else can see. He paws and fondles a little, but that’s as far as he ever goes. He seeks his fun in jousting and hunting. Lists and forests are his playrooms, not bedrooms. Beds are for sleeping off drinking bouts. He’s a magnificent horseman and swordsman. He loves wrestling. Even granting that most of them would let him win in any case, he is really good, very strong for his age, and very fast.”

“Orgies?” Wulf said. “I heard enough wild tales in the stables, when I was Anton’s varlet.” The prince’s mistress was said to be an enthusiastic participant in such parties.