'That's a foul and damnable lie,' he wheezed, 'and you know it-you of all people.' He managed to lever himself up on an elbow and gaze down on her.
'Truth is, girl, I'm growing very fond of you myself. In between wanting to strangle you, anyway.' Hastily: 'No, that's not a suggestion.'
She smiled lazily. 'Oh, good. In that case-yes, yes, tomorrow night, of course, not now-I want to try something out of this marvelous book Sharlz gave me the other day. You know, they may be just barely this side of barbarism, but the islanders do have some interesting customs. For instance…'
By the time she finished explaining the 'for instance,' Demansk was lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. The look on his face wasn't quite one of sheer despair. Despair there was, to be sure, and in goodly measure. But there was also 'Gods, I love that little gleam in your eyes. Don't lie, Verice!'
'Can't,' he croaked. 'I'm saving all my lies for the morning-which is now not more than three hours away. I have got to get some sleep.'
'Oh, all right.'
She left off anything but cuddling then; which, as always, got Demansk to sleep quickly and easily. But when he rose at sunrise, he found to his surprise that Arsule was awake also.
'Think of it this way, Verice,' she murmured as he began clothing himself. 'This is probably the first Council meeting you've ever attended which will seem like a restful occasion.'
His lips quirked. 'An exaggeration, woman. But… not without some merit.'
He came up to the bed, stroked her cheek, and turned to leave. But a hand on his tunic turned him back.
'Come home in triumph, Verice Demansk. Your Vanbert wife demands it.'
'And if I do?'
Throughout the day, the ensuing smile kept flashing into his brain-sometimes at the most awkward moment. But return in triumph he did, even if it was late in the evening; and, as he returned, the smile seemed to draw him like one of Gellert's bizarre new 'magnets.'
'Done, woman,' he announced, entering the bedroom. 'Triumph indeed. All proclamations ratified by the legitimate Council-which, of course, used the occasion to declare itself such. A new Triumvirate elected. They didn't even choke much at Forent Nappur, though I think one or two of them may die of apoplexy in the next few days contemplating his 'Registry.' Not at all, at Prit Sallivar-ha! Compared to Forent, Prit looks like a blueblood.'
Arsule laughed. 'What a trio! You, a gentryman, and a plain and simple peasant. Where it all began, after all, so why not?'
'Just what I said, when someone-that verminous little Wrachet-whined that Forent's Registry seemed illegible.' He snorted. 'It damn well should. Enry hired the best forger in Solinga to draw it up.'
'And you?'
He preened histrionically. 'As I foretold. 'First among equals,' of course-no more, no more. But they did insist — the vote was unanimous, believe it or not-that I take on a special title.' Relaxed, more seriously: 'Better that, of course, than plain and simple 'dictator.' '
'So? What was it? Adrian's proposed 'Principal'?'
'No, no-too damn Emerald foppish. These are solid Vanberts, remember. Decadent, to be sure. But this once, at least, they held their breath and seized their ancestors.'
He hopped onto the bed-and a goodly portion of Arsule as well. ' 'Paramount,' woman! And don't you forget it!'
'Oh, marvelous!' she cried, drawing him down the rest of the way. 'Exactly what the book calls for!'
Chapter 29
Don't be an idiot, Adrian, said Raj Whitehall. He's going to kill his oldest son, the first of his babies who came into the world and whom he can still remember cradling in joy and wonder. Of course he wants his daughter at his side.
The quiet thought jolted Adrian out of his gathering storm of protest. For a moment, he stared at Demansk- and, for the first time since Demansk had advanced his proposal, noticed the tightness in the man's face. His father-in-law was such a formidable person that even his closest friends and allies and relatives tended to forget that he was made of flesh and blood.
Except Arsule. And you can thank whatever gods there are that she shares his bed every night. If we do manage to keep this man sane, in the years to come, she'll play the largest role in the doing. And the gods help the world if we don't.
Adrian remembered the old Emerald saying: 'Whom the gods would cast down into madness, they first raise on high.' you can find that saying, in one variation or another, on all planets and in all times, added Center. it's the derivative of another famous old saw: power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely. what people often fail to understand, however, is that the rot strikes at a man's intellect much faster than it does at his morals. gigo, a later time would call it: garbage in, garbage out. a man with the power to punish anyone never hears anything except what he wants to hear. or, what's worse, what his subordinates think he wants to hear-and they don't dare ask him what it is. such, at least, is the tendency-and it is very hard to counter.
Adrian sighed. 'Yes, Father, of course. Helga can come on the campaign with us. And the children too. Jessep's already told me he's bringing Ilset-who's got another new baby of her own, you know. So if Helga needs a wet nurse, we'll have one she trusts at hand.'
He was not happy about it. Adrian knew perfectly well how difficult it would be to keep Helga far out of any danger. The damned woman 'Damn girl,' chuckled Demansk. But the tone had a certain warmth in it, and the harsh lines in his face seemed to be fading a bit. 'I know she'll drive us both half insane, but…'
Quietly: 'I think I might go insane altogether, if she weren't with me along with Olver. This is going to be… difficult.' He placed a hand on Adrian's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. 'I thank you for this, son.'
Adrian nodded. He tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. At some point, he knew, he was going to have to raise openly and straightforwardly with Demansk the dangers of the future. But Not now. Let the man finish the job of becoming a tyrant-the task of a titan already-before you start nattering at him about all the ways he should start unraveling his work. That'll be the last thing he wants to hear at the moment, any more than a man feverishly building a dyke to contain flood waters wants someone prattling in his ear about the danger of future droughts.
'I don't imagine you'll have any trouble getting her ready,' said Demansk. The chuckle this time was full of warmth. 'Even though the expedition leaves tomorrow.'
'Not hardly,' said Adrian sourly. 'Just remove the bolts and chains and armed guards and hexes and amulets and fetishes and-if that stupid spell had worked right-the demons that were supposed to have been keeping her locked safely away in her chambers.'
Demansk laughed. 'Which spell was it? Druzla probably tried it herself, years gone by. Didn't work, of course.'
He lifted the hand of comfort and thanks from Adrian's shoulder and gave it a hearty clap. Exactly the kind of hearty clap on the shoulder which fathers-in-law have given sons-in-law throughout the ages. Well, boy, she's all yours now. Have fun. I'm going to get some rest.
'Tomorrow morning, then,' he added as he turned away. 'I'll have Jessep and Uther keep an eye on her, Adrian, I swear. And by the time the siege has settled in, you'll have arrived yourself with the guns and the rest of the train.'
The last remark had, at least, the virtue of distracting Adrian from his worries over Helga. Fine for his father- in-law to talk serenely about a 'siege train.' Since Adrian-not he-was in charge of actually getting the thing to the siege.
'Train.' Ha! Remind me again, Center, what a train is supposed to look like.
