Dave Duncan - When the Saints

“I will pray also,” Madlenka said. It was her fault that Wulf had been taken by his enemies when he was helpless to save himself. But she was exhausted, and must sleep. Perhaps tomorrow she would think of some way she could find him and give him back his magic.

Like Vlad said, nothing was going to happen before morning.

Madlenka set off toward the great hall, meaning to check on the last of the wounded, but before she reached the door, she realized that it was no longer being used as the infirmary. Beds and priests had gone and the castle staff were celebrating. A band with more enthusiasm than style was banging, blowing, and scraping away. She beat a fast retreat before someone tried to drag her into the frenzy.

She went in search of her mother. Dowager Countess Edita was having a private celebration in her very restricted new quarters, entertaining her closest cronies, Noemi and Ivana. She looked up with disapproval at her daughter’s somewhat haphazard attire and offered a lukewarm invitation to join them, which Madlenka politely declined.

Carrying a lantern, she entered her dressing room and closed the door. She had taken two steps when the bolt clicked behind her. She swung around, and the door was indeed now bolted. Wulf? Could it be Wulf returned? Trembling with a strange mixture of fear and excitement, she raised her lantern high. There was no one else in the dressing room. A light was burning in her bedroom. She hastened there.

On the stool sat Sybilla, still dressed in grandeur. “You took your time,” she said.

Madlenka’s feet wanted her to spin around and flee. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“To rescue Wulfgang, of course. He’s cute and he’s valuable.”

“You? You think you can rescue him from the Inquisition?”

It seemed absurd, and yet the daughter of Lady Umbral might be a much more powerful person than her years suggested.

“The Inquisition doesn’t have him,” Sybilla said, in the sort of tone used with a very slow child. “So far. But we must act quickly, before he wakes up and other Speakers can locate him.”

“You know where he is?” A wisp of hope quivered like an early snowdrop in a wintery blast. Sybilla could be trusted to tell the truth sometimes, her cadger had said.

The girl smirked. “Of course I know where he is! I opened the gate for Father Giulio and his musclemen. Wasn’t that tall one a dream? Now get dressed in the best you have.”

“Where is he?”

“Hidden right under the Inquisition’s nose. Move! You have work to do. First you need to meet someone. He’s at the ball, so we must go there.”

“Me? What can I do? Aren’t you Wulf’s cadger? That makes you manager of one of the most valuable properties in Christendom right now. Have you any idea…? No, of course you don’t. You can ask the earth for him. So get dressed, and I’ll help.”

“Wulf is not for sale!”

Sybilla sighed deeply at such stupidity. “His talent is! Speakers serve other people, very rich, important, powerful people. For that they are greatly rewarded, and they are protected. A Speaker on his own would be like a mad dog, dangerous and out of control, responsible to no one. Now get dressed!”

Madlenka turned and headed back to her dressing room, but her head continued to whirl. Was this a dangerous trap, or just a stupid prank? Or could it be real? Most valuable property in Christendom?

“How long is this going to take?”

“Ten minutes? Have you more important things to do than rescue your lover from the worst death imaginable?”

Of course not. “What’s in it for you?”

Sybilla had followed her and laughed joyfully. “Now you’re starting to talk sense! Always ask that question, even if just to yourself. The man you are about to meet is my brother, who has a problem. Wulf can help him. And he can help Wulf. These things are always quid pro quo. Heaven bless us, is that the best you’ve got? It looks like Justina’s wedding dress from eighty years ago.”

Impudent brat!

Madlenka dropped the offending garment and reached for another, simpler one. “It takes hours to pin me into that,” she agreed. “I’ll wear this one.” And she wouldn’t try to compete with all the other Sybillas at the ball. She was a backwoods nymph, and could never hope to score in that sort of contest.

Her companion looked doubtful. “You’ll look as if you just escaped from a nunnery kitchen. But you’re probably right. Businesslike, not frivolous. After all, you’re not going to be presented to the king. Now, let me see what shoes you’ve got here…”

“Where is this ball? this bax201D; Madlenka asked in sudden alarm.

“In the Louvre Palace.”

“In Paris?”

“That’s where it was when I left it. To celebrate the Eve of St. Michael the Archangel… Listen!” Sybilla abandoned the shoe basket. “I’ll go back there so people won’t start wondering where I’ve gone, and I’ll cut Louis out of the pack and arrange a rendezvous somewhere private. You do the best you can and I’ll come back for you in, what? Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes,” Madlenka agreed, now talking to empty air.

She was adjusting her hat in the mirror and wondering if she had gone crazy or was having an especially wicked nightmare when Sybilla appeared behind her.

“Mm… I suppose that will have to do. The Grand Promenade is due to start in half an hour and we must complete our negotiations before that. Ready?”

“No.” Madlenka spoke firmly. “Who is this brother and what is his problem and how can Wulf-”

“Gramercy! All right. Fair questions.” Sybilla sat on the bed, perching on the extreme edge to show that she was not planning to stay. “You know that yesterday the baron went to see Cardinal Zdenek? Well…”

“No. Otto did?”

“Yes, Otto did. Listen to me! He reported that Wulf had moved Anton to Gallant and Anton had established himself as count, but he pointed out that the Wends were known to have at least one Speaker on their side and probably others, so Wulf was going to need help. Zdenek agreed. He sent one of his hirelings to a secret place he knows of, to deliver a message. And late last night, or very early this morning, Lady Umbral and Justina went to Mauvnik to meet with him.”

Madlenka nodded. “That was the meeting that the priest mentioned?” So far it made sense, if one could adjust to a world of magic.

“Yes.” Sybilla babbled on, like a pebbly brook. “Lady Umbral agreed to let Justina help Wulf for a few days, but she and the Spider disagreed on the price. For months now Zdenek has been hawking Princess Laima around the aristocracy of Europe, wanting to see her betrothed while he can still control the terms and take his cut. Lady Umbral wanted her for my brother. My half-brother, not her son. He’s Louis of Rouen and he will impress you. Zdenek refused, saying that the contract had already been initialed. They settled on dividing Wulf one-third-two-thirds between them.”

“Oh, did they?”

Sybilla grinned, looking even younger than usual. “I’m sure neither intended to keep their word, and Mother soon learned that no contract had been signed yet, so Zdenek was lying and the game was still on. Understand?”

Madlenka understood some of it, but this was not her world and she was going to have to learn very fast. Baron Otto would be the one to consult. And Wulf himself, of course.

“How do you split a Speaker?”

“ Never use that word! Why do you think we have all these codes? He’s your falcon. When he’s under contract, he’s a client’s hireling. Zdenek employs five hirelings and flies no falcons of his own, so far as I know. He wanted to be Wulf’s cadger and let Lady Umbral be his client for four months of the year. Now come along and meet Louis.”