— Open a gate just behind Vilhelmas and at the same level.
The gate opened. Firelight blazed out with a sound of music, someone strumming a lute out of the assassins’ view. It stopped abruptly as men cried out in alarm. Just on the far side of the hole in the world sat the Speaker priest, with his back turned to it, and a glow around his head. For a moment that seemed to last forever, nothing happened-or at least nothing that was supposed to happen. Marek! Shoot! The Wends started leaping to their feet. Father Vilhelmas turned his head, one eye glaring just above his massive beard. Do it now!
At long last, Marek’s crossbow loosed with a crack like a cannon. As the Speaker fell off his stool with the bolt half-buried in his skull, Wulf closed the gate.
Then the two of them were alone in the dark, with only the wind and the rush of steadily increasing rain overhead. Wulf caught Marek in his arms for a congratulatory hug. The little man dragged a couple of hard sobs, then twisted out of Wulf’s grasp, leaned against a tree trunk, and threw up.
“Well done, Brother!” Wulf said. “You have avenged two foul murders and probably won the war.”
Marek heaved again.
“He deserved to die.”
The second Speaker was still among the guards around the Dragon.
Firelight poured out of the cabin as the door flew open. Wulf grabbed his brother and dragged him back to their room in Castle Gallant.
CHAPTER 34
Vlad was leaning over the bed, examining the drying blood. He straightened up with an oath and reached for his sword. Then he recognized the newcomers and scowled. Vlad always scowled.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you two. What happened here?”
“I killed a priest,” Wulf said callously. He would not pretend to mourn Father Azuolas. No doubt the man had been sincere in his beliefs, but kidnapping boys and locking them up for being Speakers when he was a Speaker himself had been contemptible hypocrisy.
“That’s a relief. If this were a wedding bed, I would fear for the bride’s health. What happened to the door?”
“Woodpeckers.”
“So where have you been?” The big man took a hard look at Marek. “And what’s wrong with Midge?”
Marek was still leaning on Wulf. Their boots had splattered mud and water on the tiles, and a reek of forest filled the little room.
“Buck fever,” Marek muttered. He pulled free and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just killed another. Another priest, I mean. It’s a family weakness.” He attempted a smile. “But we did it, didn’t we, Wulfie?”
“We did. And what’s wrong with you?” Wulf asked Vlad.
“Well, I’m happy to report that the bishop has finished exorcising the hall and gone home to write a long, gossipy letter to Archbishop Svaty. I’m unhappy to report that Anton has just spilled some very bad news. Otto’s in the solar, drinking up the castle’s wine supply.”
“Anton and Madlenka?”
“They’re both with Otto. I don’t think Anton trusts his lady out of his sight.”
Wulf sighed. The events of the evening had left him emotionally numb, which was a sort of blessing. “Let’s go and join them.”
Castle Gallant’s solar was of modest size, hard-put to hold even five chairs, and the Magnus family filled it tighter than a meal sack. No one had thought to order a fire in the dreary little hearth, so Wulf perched on the hob, leaning his forearms on his knees and staring glumly at the tiled floor. Once in a while he would glance at Anton and Madlenka holding hands, just to make his wounds bleed more. He also drank. He had decided that what he needed was the world’s worst hangover. A dozen or so spare flagons of wine stood ready on a table beside Vlad’s chair. It beat the insipid beer that had been served at the meal.
No one spoke as Marek recounted the Speakers’ adventures since the end of the banquet. No one suggested that Madlenka should be excluded and she must have been warned what to expect, for she seemed unsurprised by a discussion of Satanism. She was carefully displaying no emotion at all.
At the end, Vlad said, “Well, now you’re both blooded! A Magnus isn’t a real man until he’s killed someone. That just leaves Anton.”
“I hanged a man on Monday,” Anton said coldly. “Does that count?”
“Not unless you whipped the horse yourself. Count us four bull’s-eyes and a blue, then.” The big man took a drink.
Madlenka’s lip curled slightly.
“Vladislav,” Otto said, “you have the grace of a hog and should not be allowed indoors. Marek, Wulfgang, I approve of the way you went after Vilhelmas. Priest or not, he was leading troops and doing nonclerical things. A combatant cannot claim benefit of clergy. Well done, both of you!” He raised a glass in approval. The others joined in the toast.
Wulf smiled across at Marek and raised his own glass to him. He cared nothing for Vlad’s opinions, but approval from Otto was welcome.
Marek smiled and responded, raising his glass. “Omnia audere!”
They all shouted approval and drank again. Jollity reigned: it was five years since the brothers had last been united. Wulf might not be the only one heading for a Magnus-sized hangover.
It was Otto who brought them back into the shadows. “But, Brothers-and new Sister-the Dominican’s death is going to bring real trouble. You said they were using Voices to force you to put on that iron bit, Marek. But a bystander wouldn’t have seen that, would he? It would look like you were doing it voluntarily.”
“Not ‘Voices,’” Marek said. “Lodnicka doesn’t need to Speak aloud. Nor does Wulf, now. They’re both top- rank, um, Speakers. But I know what you mean.”
Otto nodded. “A court of law would say that Wulf was the aggressor. I don’t think that, but the law will. He heard the priest speak behind the door and shot him through it in cold blood.”
“They’ll have trouble making a case at all,” Marek protested. “How can they explain these events without revealing the Church’s own use of Satanism? I expect they’ll think up something, but it’ll take time.”
“Yesterday Cardinal Zdenek told me he could protect Wulf from the Church, but it was a very conditional offer. Wulf must defend Castle Gallant against the Wends without Speaking so anybody can notice. Killing friars was not discussed. The Church will now be howling for Wulf’s blood.”
“It was an accident,” Wulf said innocently. “I didn’t mean to shoot the quarrel at the door.”
“My lords?” Madlenka murmured and five pairs of eyes swung toward her.
“Yes, my dear?” Anton frowned, as if he hadn’t known she was capable of speech.
“Havel Vranov has been a Wend-killer all his life; he hunted them down like vermin. Then a few months ago he started consorting with this Orthodox priest who’s supposed to be a distant cousin, but is certainly on the Wends’ side. Do you suppose that Vilhelmas was an evil genius, bewitching him? Now that he’s dead, will Vranov come back to his senses and repent?”
They all looked to Marek, the expert on Speaking, but he looked blank. “I can’t tell you. But let’s hope so!”
After a moment Otto said, “Day before yesterday, Wulf, you told me that you had to Speak aloud to your Voices. Now Marek says you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” Wulf did not want to admit that his Voices would not answer him now. “So what I can do is not Speaking, strictly speaking. I don’t know what it is. It’s not witchcraft!”
“Can you prove that?” Vlad demanded. Incredibly, he still sounded almost sober.
“God hears if we pray to him in silence.”
Even Otto was looking doubtful now. “Joan of Arc always insisted that her Voices came from God.”
“So will I, if the Church ever puts me on trial. I’m telling you all this because you’re my brothers and sister- in-law and I trust you. If you don’t want me here, just say so and I’ll be gone in a flash.” He did not look at
