sparked.
“You found something?” She stroked Fulk’s hair, praying his good health would last.
“Colonel Gales spent the evening at a tavern, the Twisted Wrench, which is frequented by the garrison. He drank so much he wet himself. The last anyone saw him, he was going out the door.”
“That’s it? That’s al ?”
“It is, Majesty. And I would like to point out that the men and I have done almost miraculous work, coming up with that so fast.”
True. Inger reined in her emotions. Wolf had developed that information so fast she wondered if he had not been involved somehow. “You’re right, Nathan. That was good work. Can you even guess where he is now?”
“No, Majesty. But these things usual y end with a corpse. Or an embarrassed soldier who has been rol ed by a prostitute.”
Josiah would not have taken up with a prostitute.
Wolf stepped to the door. “I can keep on squeezing the men who were there, but…”
“Almost certainly a waste of time. Nathan, you’l have to do what Colonel Gales was supposed to do today.”
“I am at Your Majesty’s command.”
Exactly the answer she wanted from every man in her service, but from Wolf it seemed somehow both sinister and darkly suggestive.
Poor Nathan could not talk about the weather without making people think he was an oily, wicked pervert.
Inger gave Wolf his instructions, which were exactly those she had given Gales. Though her stomach tightened, she al owed a hint of a suggestion that a substitute who handled the Colonel’s work wel might expect some of the Colonel’s perks.
She felt filthy when Wolf left.
She did wonder why the man seemed so slimy, creepy, and repulsive. He did nothing to validate that.
...
Nathan Wolf, wounded, reached the Breitbarth castle two days later than he should have without having run into trouble. He was afoot. He was the second member of his band to get through, and the last. He arrived to find that the cavalryman who had preceded him had expired before he could explain what had happened.
The Duke himself came to see Wolf. The sorcerer Babeltausque was dressing his wounds. “What the hel happened, Nathan? The other guy thought he was the only survivor.”
“An ambush, Your Grace. I didn’t get a good look.
Marena Dimura bandits, I guess.”
Babeltausque said, “He’l be fine if there’s no sepsis. Gister Saxton told the same story.”
“The Marena Dimura haven’t done anything since Abaca died. Why change now?”
Wolf mumbled, “I don’t know, Your Grace.” He tried to explain why he had come instead of Gales.
“Ah. Possibilities suggest themselves. Gales either stepped out of the equation deliberately, was ordered out by Inger, or was removed by someone else. That seems most likely. So. Why? To get rid of Gales? Or to move Nathan up a notch?”
The sorcerer said, “That is a pathetical y long stretch.”
“Meaning?”
“I believe in the malicious mischief theory of providence. My hypothesis? Gales went out drinking and got mugged, or kil ed, by somebody who didn’t know who he was.”
“A twist on ‘It’s not conspiracy if it can be explained by stupidity’?”
“Exactly.”
Greyfel s stared at Wolf. “Nathan has done wel , Babeltausque. Remove the curse.”
Wolf frowned, confused, as he slid away into sleep.
The sorcerer frowned, too, but his scowl was born of irritation.
Nathan Wolf had offended Babeltausque years ago, without knowing it. He never did figure out why the whole world suddenly found him repugnant.
The sorcerer was not happy but he carried out his Duke’s wil . He had too grand an idea of his own worth. He would not have survived with the Greyfel s family if they had been able to attract a man with more talent and a better character.
Babeltausque schemed, but only in smal -minded, personal ways. He did not put his employer at risk.
Dane of Greyfel s appreciated that. “Babeltausque, you’ve served my family long and wel . We should show our appreciation more ful y. Do you have secret aspirations that we could make come true?”
The sorcerer was startled. He squinted at the Duke. Was he being set up for torment? The man was capable of amusing himself by baiting a dog.
Yet he could not keep from blurting, “I do, Lord. But I dare not state it. Punishment would be swift and harsh.”
“Come, now.” The Duke assumed his sorcerer had a secret vice. The breed had that reputation. And Dane of Greyfel s had vices he dared indulge only rarely. “Go on. I guarantee your safety. And no one else wil know.”
“Lord, I was obsessed with your half-sister Mayenne before we left Itaskia.” He cringed, anticipating a blow.
“Wel . You can surprise me. I expected something darker.
She’s a little young, though, isn’t she?”
“She’s almost fourteen.” Too old for the sorcerer’s taste, now, but so delectable…
Mayenne was one of a dozen children the previous Duke had fathered on the far side of the blanket. He had been fond enough of this one’s mother to acknowledge her and her sisters.
The Duke was amused. “Babeltausque, I’m glad you spoke up. This can be arranged.” Sudden cruelty edged his voice.
“The little bitch needs to learn her place.” She had resisted his own advances more than once. She deserved to be thrown to a beast like Babeltausque.
The sorcerer continued to look amazed.
How his fortunes had turned!
...
Nathan Wolf, on crutches, made the rounds of the Duke’s soldiers, tel ing them what Inger wanted them to hear—with the Duke’s blessing. A band of three were al owed to slip away. Two days later an eight-man group moved out. Both groups consisted of genuine deserters.
A third band, twenty-six strong, were not the real thing.
They included the Duke disguised as an archer and the sorcerer as a muleteer. The archer’s guise suited the Duke.
He was skil ed with the longbow.
Six miles east of Breitbarth an outrider discovered human remains as vultures and ravens made a getaway.
Flies were dense despite the season. There had been several days of warm weather. Maggots were at work. The ravens did not go far. They clustered in nearby trees and cursed.
The remains could stil be recognized. They were the men who had deserted first. They had been attacked by archers.
“Bandits?” Greyfel s asked the air.
“Hard to tel , Your Grace,” a soldier replied. “The broken arrows are the Marena Dimura type.”
Babeltausque, unhappy about being in the field, said, “It hardly matters now.”
“True enough,” the Duke admitted. “Sorcerer, here is where you earn your sweet cunny. Make sure it doesn’t happen to us.”
Babeltausque soon had his chance. “We’re being stalked.
Four men. In the woods to our left. A dozen more are hiding up ahead, in the brush around that lone chestnut.” Greyfel s had been looking forward to this. His troops were al afoot. Each carried a strung bow with an arrow laid across. “The finer you determine where they are the happier I’l be.”
“Keep moving like you’re ready for trouble but don’t real y expect it. I’l give you my best.” He would. He had a
