Darkness Descending

did: “Mosco says they’ll have to make sure the baby weds an Algarvian, come the day. In a few generations, he says, the Kaunian taint will be gone.”

“He says that, does he?” Krasta whispered back, outraged all over again. Everyone knew--everyone in her circles knew--Kaunian blood was infinitely superior to that of the swaggering barbarians from Algarve. But she did not have the nerve to throw that obvious truth in Lurcanio’s face. Instead, she tried a different ploy: “How happy will Captain Mosco’s wife be to learn of his little bastard?”

She wasn’t sure Mosco had a wife. By the way he flinched, though, he did. Lurcanio spoke in a flat voice, the one he used to give orders: “You will not say a word to Captain Mosco’s wife, milady.”

After gathering herself, Krasta looked defiance at him. In trying to keep her from playing the game of scandal, he had, for once, overreached himself. “I will bargain with you,” she said. “If Mosco acknowledges the bastard as his, if he supports the brat and Bauska as they deserve, his wife need not hear anything unfortunate. If he acts as so many men are in the habit of acting ...”

Lurcanio and Mosco spoke back and forth in Algarvian. Again, Krasta had no idea what they were saying. Bauska did, and let out an angry squawk. Pointing at Mosco, she said, “You certainly are the father! I don’t tomcat around, and you’ve proved you do.” Krasta didn’t know whether to believe her or not; she operated on the assumption that servants lied whenever they got the chance. But Bauska sounded convincing, and Mosco wouldn’t have an easy time proving she lied--not for some months, anyhow.

He thought of that, too. “If the child has hair the color of straw, it can starve for all of me,” he growled. But then, with a sour look at Krasta, he went on, “If I see signs I did in truth sire it, it shall not lack, nor shall its mother. This I would do for my own honor’s sake, but--”

“Men speak of honor more often than they show it,” Krasta said.

“You do not know Algarvians as well as you think,” Mosco snapped.

“You do not know men as well as you think,” Krasta retorted, which drew a startled gasp of laughter from Bauska and a couple of harsh chuckles from Lurcanio.

“I was trying to tell you--if that is so, the child and mother shall not lack,” Captain Mosco said. “And, if they do not lack, not a word of this shall go back to Algarve. Is it a bargain?”

“It is a bargain,” Krasta said at once. She did not ask Bauska’s opinion; Bauska’s opinion meant nothing to her. When her maidservant nodded, she scarcely noticed. Her contest was with the Algarvians--and she had done better against this pair than the Valmieran army had done against Mezentio’s men. If only we might have blackmailed the redheads instead of fighting them, she thought.

Lurcanio sensed that he and Mosco had come off second best. Waggling a finger under Krasta’s nose, he said, “Do remember, you have made this bargain with my aide, who has his own reasons for agreeing to it. If you seek to play such games with me, you shall not be happier for it afterwards, I promise you.”

Nothing could have been more nicely calculated to make Krasta want to try to punish him for his Algarvian arrogance .. . though having his child struck her as going too far. And Lurcanio had shown her he was not in the habit of bluffing. Disliking him for the steadfastness she was also compelled to respect, she made her head move up and down. “I understand,” she said.

“Good.” He was arrogant indeed. “You had better.” And then his manner changed. He could take off and put on charm as readily as he took off and redonned his kilt up in Krasta’s bedchamber. “Shall we go out this evening, milady, as well as tomorrow? Viscount Valnu, I hear, has promised one of his entertainments on the spur of the moment.” He raised an eyebrow. “If you are irked at me, I can always go alone.”

“And bring some ambitious little tart back here?” Krasta said. “Not on your life!”

Lurcanio laughed. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Of course you would,” Krasta said. “Mosco may not know men, but I do.” Lurcanio laughed again and did not presume to contradict her.

Pekka hurried around the house flicking at imaginary specks of dust. “Is everything ready?” she asked for the dozenth time.

“As ready as it can be,” her husband answered. Leino looked around the parlor. “Of course, we haven’t stuffed Uto into the rest crate yet.”

“You told me I’d get in trouble if I went in the rest crate,” Uto said indignantly. “That means you can’t put me in there either. It does, it does.” He drew himself up straight, as if defying Leino to deny it.

“Big people can do all sorts of things children can’t,” Leino said. Pekka coughed; she didn’t want this issue