Dave Duncan - When the Saints

“We were so worried about you!”

Wulf laughed. “Not as worried as I was. And I’m not out of the swamp yet.”

“Then you haven’t been hired as the pope’s court jester?”

“Um… It does look like that, doesn’t it?” From Otto’s grin, Wulf knew he must be blushing. “Latest Italian style. You rustics can’t appreciate fashion. Seriously, I am frantically short of time and I need counsel. You’re the family expert on law.”

Otto faked a glare. “Are you looking for a fight?”

“No. Give me your hand and don’t let go.” Wulf gripped Otto’s wrist and pulled him into limbo. Otto yelped. “Don’t let go!” Wulf repeated. “You’re quite safe otherwise. This is limbo.”

“Where unbaptized babies go?”

“Haven’t seen any around. We can’t be spied on here, so please listen, because this is vital. The king is very close to death. The prince has yet to father an heir. Suppose he meets with an accident right after he succeeds?”

Otto’s eyes narrowed. “That is not a comfortable speculation, and could be a dangerous one to make in public. Are you hinting that he is likely to meet with an accident?”

“Let’s keep this on a just-suppose level,” Wulf said, with a smile meaning, Yes. “Next in line is his sister. A woman can reign, can’t she?”

“I expect so. Roman law doesn’t apply here. Jorgary has never had a queen regnant but many countries have: Sweden, Poland, Hungary, Bosnia. But-”

“But she is only sixteen and unmarried.”

“That does get tricky,” Otto admitted, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “Back in Dobkov we’ve never worried overmuch about palace politics. When the king calls, we go to war, and that’s tat?hat. A few kings have succeeded at that age or younger, but a woman… I imagine she would, but she’d get married off very quickly.”

“Who would choose the lucky bridegroom?”

“Even trickier. I’d think the Assembly of Nobles. Or a civil war.”

“But if she were already married to a personable, popular young man of royal blood with no especial enemies?”

Otto took his time responding, probably wondering what his kid brother had fallen into now. Yesterday lifting a siege, today settling the political future of the country? Whatever would he get up to tomorrow?

“Then her husband would probably be granted the crown matrimonial. In other words, be made king. Officially appointed by his wife, no doubt, but in reality by the Assembly of Nobles.”

Of which Anton Count Magnus must now be a member, while a mere baron would not. That was ironic, but Wulf did not mention it. “But what if she were married to someone totally unsuitable? Say a blind old invalid, or a boy much younger than herself, or a congenital idiot?”

Otto looked even more unhappy, appalled at where this was obviously leading. “Then I doubt if she would be allowed to rule at all. She might be allowed to wear the crown, but a Council of Regency would wield the power. With a civil war always looming on the horizon. She’d become a pawn… Very nasty. Does that answer your question?”

Wulf nodded glumly. “It’s what I expected.”

“So which do we have to look forward to? The personable foreign prince, or one of the horrors?”

“That will depend.”

“On what?”

Wulf shrugged. “Possibly on me.”

“And which side is planning to have the new king meet with an accident?”

“Both of them.”

“Then you must tell Cardinal Zdenek as soon as-” Otto stopped when he saw Wulf’s bitter smile.

Wulf said, “What was the name of those rocks that would clash together to crush the Argonauts when they tried to sail between them?”

“The Symplegades.”

“That’s where I am, except I’m between two clashing cardinals. One wants to marry Laima to his nephew, who may not be too bad but isn’t what he claims to be. The other plans to her planmarry her off to an impossible king so he will be left alone to run the country for the Assembly. I am almost certain that both sides intend to dispose of the young king before he can louse up the country too badly.”

“Is he really as bad as they say he is?”

Not knowing the answer, Wulf shrugged. “I remember Father saying that kings were like babies: you just have to take what you get.”

Aghast, Otto said, “And it’s up to you to stop them?”

“Me and Madlenka. I was a criminal idiot to involve her! Pray that she’ll come out of this safely. Now you’re up to date, and you’ve confirmed what I feared. I must go before the sun sets.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

Then Otto seemed to think the better of whatever he had been about to say. He shrugged and smiled wanly. “It doesn’t matter now. When will we see you again?”

“Tomorrow, I hope. The day after more likely. If not then, then likely never.”

Wulf opened a gate into the Unicorn Room. Vlad had returned and was standing at the window, staring out, so he did not notice his brothers’ arrival. Otto stepped through and Wulf went back to Avlona.

Justina was alone now, laying out bowls of food. A trencher of stale bread and a spoon lay ready, and there were mouthwatering scents in the air. She smiled at him.

“I know you must be hungry. Sit down.”

“I don’t have time. You heard me getting my orders?”

“You must make time, boy! No man can operate without food and sleep, so you must always make time for them.”

He sat. “Just because you’re my Great-aunt Kristina, I have to do as you say?”

She smiled happily. “Of course!” She pushed an empty bowl over the table to him and raised a pitcher of water.

He held out his hands to be rinsed. And when that ritual was over, he began loading the trencher with lamb and goose and rice and savory sauces.

Prince Konrad’s hunt had brought a stag to bay. The hounds were all around it, in their usual frenzy, and the huntsmen were trying to drive them off so they could close in and administer the mort. It was at least an eight-pointer, so His Highness should be in a good mood. Marquessa Darina was not at the hunt. Nor had she been at Chestnut Hill last week when Anton had pulled off his death-defying jump, or Wulf might have noticed her nimbus. That had been the start of all this madness. No, the fair Darina was in bed, watching a man dressing and making jokes about his hairy chest.

Wulf brought his attention back to Avlona as a wine bottle and beaker were set in front of him. “Who’s that with Marquessa Darina, do you know?”

Justina’s eyes went blank for a moment and her lip curled. “One of today’s lucky courtiers. No one I know.”

“Is she really so promiscuous?”

“If it’s held to pee, she’ll take it.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Born Hedwig Schlutz, daughter of a Viennese notary. She managed to keep her Voices secret until she was close to fledging age, but one day she saw a Speaker in the street and by then she could detect his nimbus. He noticed her staring and introduced himself. He took her to the Saints.”

“Who’s her cadger?”

“Don’t know. We don’t discuss things like that.”

Well, of course! Wulf should have worked that out. The workaday cadgers would be much more vulnerable than their falcons.

Justina laid a loaf and knife in front of him, and went on producing food: hot fish, cheese, olives, and grapes.

“How did Darina get to be the crown prince’s hireling?”

Justina sniffed. Obviously her opinion of the former Hedwig Schlutz could not be lower. “She’s Zdenek’s hireling, not Konrad’s. Young Konrad is not one of the Wise, and I don’t think he will ever be. Hedwig wanted to be a great lady at court somewhere. Mauvnik is peasant country compared to Paris or Vienna, but it was the best her cadger could find for her. The courtiers saw through her fancy airs right away, and they despise her. She’s the prince’s official mistress, but she keeps the gardeners and stableboys happy, too. He doesn’t seem to care.”