When the Saints (34 page)

Otto, then. Wulf stepped through into the room and coughed politely.

Otto spun around. His face registered fright, then relief. The brothers took one pace apiece and crashed together in an embrace. They hugged like bears and thumped backs.

“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 tatȁhat. 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.

CHAPTER
36

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.”

“What do the courtiers think of him?” Wulf asked with his mouth full.

A shrug. “He’s pathetic. Hunting, fishing, parties, orgies, banquets, military parades. Likes fancy uniforms, although he has no military skills at all. The mind of a child in the body of an ape.”

She sat down opposite and began to chatter about five or six generations of Magnus family. Wulf listened with half an ear, nodded politely, gulped down food as fast as he could, and analyzed strategy, all at the same time.

Àe.

Obviously there were at least three factions involved in the current plot, two led by cardinals and one by Crown Prince Konrad, although his party might not have any members except himself. A man must be loyal to king and country, but which took precedence?

However elliptical Cardinal d’Estouteville’s way of talking, he had made it quite clear that Wulf’s only chance of staying out of the Inquisition’s dungeons was to arrange the betrothal of Princess Laima to Louis of Rouen, a match which only Cardinal Zdenek could approve, but utterly opposed.

If Wulf failed in his mission, he would probably drag Madlenka and his brothers into the darkness with him. Everything now depended on the betrothal of a young man Wulf had never met to the princess he had glimpsed for a few moments last night. Was she involved in the plotting? Probably nobody had thought to wonder what she wanted. If the Scarlet Spider was really planning treason, as both Wulf and Cardinal d’Estouteville believed, then the fate of the country also rested on Wulf’s shoulders, and he had about twenty-six hours to find a solution.

How? He had been forbidden to break the first commandment. He tried to Look in on Madlenka and couldn’t find her. That was forbidden too, so his jessing worked as it was supposed to. No public miracles! He interrupted Justina’s reminiscences.

“You Looked in on my talk with His Eminence.” Not a question.

“Some of it.”

“Did you hear the eminent gentleman tell me that talent is just a God-given ability to have your wishes come true?”

“I did. I tend to agree, but I was surprised to hear him say so, because it’s not the Church’s official story. But it is as reasonable a guess as anyone’s ever come up with.”

“What is the Church’s official explanation, if not that Speakers’ powers come from the devil?”

“That’s the public one. For the churchmen who are Speakers, it is that they are especially holy men, and the Lord answers their prayers.”

“And which theory do you believe?”

Justina smiled and nodded. “Most of the time I agree with the cardinal. I have trouble believing that the Lord approves of some of the work being done in his name.”

Wulf reached for the cheese again. “A little while ago I tried to come here and the gate opened into the vineyard instead. You had someone with you. The same sort of thing has happened before. How does that work?”

“It works because you don’t want to break the first commandment by appearing in front of workadays. That’s part of your wish, even if you haven’t realized it. YourÀized it. lungs breathe all night, even if you’re not telling them to. You release a bowstring without deliberately warning it not to cut your left thumb off, don’t you? Are these things done by your guardian angel? Or is it just you? If I faked a punch at your eye, your eye would close before you told it to.”

“Don’t. My fist might bounce you off the wall before I told it not to. But why Voices?”

“You were a haggard, all alone. You didn’t dare talk with anyone about it, so you imagined holy friends who could advise you. Lonely small children invent imaginary friends. Lonely Speakers invent angelic Voices. A handler would have smoothed the path for you.”

That made little sense, although Wulf recalled Father saying that expectation had strange effects on people. Warriors who went into battle expecting to live through it—as they had done the last time or several times before—had a much better chance of surviving than beginners who lacked that confidence. Wulf couldn’t take the time to think about it now. He might have months of leisure in a dungeon ahead of him.

“Can you give me a piece of paper, please?” he said. “And a pen?”

Without a word she went to the shelves and fetched the paper and pen, plus an inkwell and a dish of sand. Wulf folded a small strip at the bottom of the paper and sliced it off with the Magnus dagger. He pinned it flat between the thumb and middle finger of his left hand. “Now close your eyes in case someone’s Looking.”

Then, with his own eyes shut so that even he couldn’t see what he was writing, he scribbled seven words. Hoping they were legible, he kept the paper covered with his hand until the ink dried, then quickly folded it and tucked into his pouch, all without glimpsing what was on it. “You can open your eyes now.”

She was watching with an amused expression. “Where’d you learn that trick?”