'Ha! 'You can count on it, lady.' ' Her grin reappeared. The fact that it was coming at him sideways didn't make it any less effective. At moments like this, Demansk admitted, Arsule Knecht was a very attractive woman. For all the times she'd annoyed him, during her many visits-and vice versa-to his wife, Demansk could remember other times when he'd been forced to keep a casual demeanor around her. In the baths, especially. Clothed, draped in thick and expensive fabrics, her body just seemed heavy. Nude… the proper word was lush.
One good thing about Arsule, though. At least you never had to grope for the right words. She'd charge right in and provide them for you.
'But you don't really have Marcomann's lusts, do you? In fact, I've never been sure you had any real lusts at all. Oh, stop frowning. I'm not casting aspersions on your manhood-Druzla never complained, that's for sure.' The grin seemed to widen, though it was a bit hard to tell seeing it at a near vertical angle. 'You didn't really think women don't talk about such things, did you?'
'Ah-'
'Oh, stop pretending. I'm sure Druzla told you that I satisfied my own lusts with a sculptor, here and there, seeing as how my husband was spending too much time with his whores to do the job properly.'
Well, yes, she did. Half in disapproval, and half in amusement. Arsule's carnal lusts seemed to be just as exuberant as her artistic ones.
She leaned a bit closer. 'It's odd, though. Since Toman died-he did get killed in a whorehouse brawl, you know, the rumor's quite accurate-I've led quite the proper widow's life. I suspect I was mostly just retaliating. Well, almost. There was one sculptor, a couple of years ago, for about a month-'
'Arsule!' Despite everything, Demansk was still enough of an old-style Vanbert nobleman to feel a little shocked. Not by her history itself, so much as her ready willingness to talk about it.
'Oh, stop pretending to be shocked. Verice, the only difference between me and half the rich bitches in this city is that at least I picked my lovers for their other talents. Never been a single gigolo-not one-who wormed himself into my bed.'
That was probably true, he thought. In this as in everything, Arsule Knecht would make the world fit her tastes, not the other way around.
'Enough,' she proclaimed, the grin fading into a smile. 'I dare not test the famous Demansk virtue any further, I can tell. All right, Verice. I'll listen to whatever you have Prit say to me. Truth is, I suspect I'll agree- but!'
There was no smile now, and her face came back level. 'One condition-tonight. The high priest of the Temple of Jassine is here, and I insist that you speak with him.'
Demansk couldn't prevent the grimace. Jassine was the goddess of mercy, and her temples provided whatever there was in the Confederation by way of poverty relief. Which…
Wasn't much.
'They're getting overwhelmed, Verice,' she said softly. 'Every year, it gets worse and worse.'
'Yes, Arsule, I know. But-'
Now, she was cross-eyed. 'Oh, stop it! Do you think I'm an idiot? Obviously, if you're to be a new Marcomann you'll be spending your own money like water on other things. I don't want your money, Demansk, I want your mind. ' For a moment-miraculously-there was a pause. She even seemed to swallow a bit. Then, very softly: 'Most of all, I suppose, I want your soul. I trust you, Verice Demansk, believe it or not. Druzla would never have married a monster in the first place, much less spent two happy decades with him. If I didn't, I wouldn't even consider this. But you must promise me you'll think about what the high priest has to tell you.'
That much he could do. Think, yes-even if no answer came.
'Done,' he said.
An instant later, she was sweeping him through the door. 'Everyone-look who's here! Verice, this is my latest protege-Gaorg's the most brilliant dramatist, the evening's devoted to him, in fact-have you seen his latest tragedy? — no, of course not-don't mind him, Gaorg, he's not really a boor he just pretends very well-'
Chapter 6
As Demansk's velipad approached the little house, he felt a certain awkwardness coming over him. Almost shame, truth be told. He had always meant to visit the First Spear after the man retired, but…
In the months since the siege of Preble where the First Spear sustained his career-ending injury, something always seemed more pressing. It was not as if Demansk and the First Spear had been personally close. He didn't even know the man's name.
Still, there had been a certain bond forged between them, in those days of savage struggle against the Islanders armed with Gellert's bizarre and frightening new weaponry. And Demansk was acutely aware of the fact that his grandfather would have known the First Spear's name-that of every First Spear in his regiments, in fact-and would have visited the man, long before this.
And wouldn't have had an ulterior motive for doing it, either.
Perhaps to assuage his own feelings of guilt, Demansk's first words were blunt and honest.
'I'm afraid I came for a reason, First Spear. Though I should have come earlier, for which I apologize.'
The former First Spear of Demansk's First Regiment lowered his head, his heavy-jawed face flushing a bit with embarrassment. The motion brought the man's scalp into Demansk's view. He was pleased to see that the wound seemed to have healed well enough, even if the scarring was heavy and the coarse black hair almost nonexistent in its vicinity.
'You needn't, sir,' mumbled the First Spear. 'I hadn't expected you to.'
Demansk suppressed a sigh. No, the man wouldn't have expected it. But his own grandfather would have. There was a time when Vanbert bonds had run deep.
He couldn't repress a second sigh entirely. The First Spear, he knew, came from the eastern provinces of the Confederacy. At one time, he would have retired there, settling in for a comfortable old age among his own folk. Now Demansk's eyes scanned the flat terrain which surrounded the house. Flat, and just a bit arid. Typical of the farmland available in the recently conquered western provinces. The farmland in the east was better, but most of it had long since been gobbled up by the expanding slave-operated great estates of Vanbert's aristocracy. So, when the chirurgeons informed Demansk that his First Spear would survive the wound but would never be able to serve in battle again, Demansk had given him this land out of his own great estates.
'Any of your kinfolk nearby?' he asked abruptly.
The First Spear, obviously relieved to have the awkward apology behind them, raised his head and smiled. 'Yes, sir. Quite a few.' He pointed a thick finger to the north. 'A good chunk of my clan lives up that way. When I told them-'
He hesitated for a moment. Then: 'Well, sir, it's like this. I guess you told your land manager for the area to run easy on the prices, for me and mine. So a goodly number of my kinfolk moved here from back home. Got a little village up there now and everything. Even our own temple. Nothing fancy, of course.'
Demansk felt his feelings of guilt ease. He'd forgotten that he'd given those instructions. Eyeing the still- muscular figure of the First Spear, he found himself smiling faintly. Between Demansk's instructions and, he had no doubt at all, the veiled threats of the First Spear and his clansmen, the land manager had clearly decided not to apply the usual gouging tactics.
He heard a little noise behind the First Spear's shoulder and lifted his eyes. The figure of a young woman had appeared in the doorway of the house, with an infant cradled in her arms.
Demansk chuckled. 'I see you didn't waste any time.'
The First Spear turned his head. The smile which came to his lips seemed at odds with the blocky, brutal- looking face.
'Saw no reason to, sir. That's Ilset, the daughter of my second cousin Polter. I'd had my eye on her since she was no more than eight years old. Always made it a point to visit whenever I went home between campaigns.' He tapped the scar on his head. 'By the time this happened, she was already sixteen. So's as soon as I could move about I got home quick before someone else could sneak in ahead of me. Polter was willing, since I wasn't asking for much in the way of a dowry.'
