The Chernagor Pirates

be less.

Cristata asked, “What will Her Majesty say if you do that?” She’d thought along with him, then.

“She has a right to complain if I take a mistress,” Lanius answered. “If I take another wife, though, how can she be upset?” He could, in fact, think of several ways. But he wanted to keep things as simple as possible for Cristata.

She, however, seemed able to see complications without him pointing them out. “She’s King Grus’ daughter,” she said. “What will the other king do?”

“He may grumble, but how could he do more?” Lanius said. “How can he fuss much about what I do after the way he carried on winter before this?”

“People always manage to forget what they did and to fuss about what other people do,” Cristata said, words that held an unpleasant ring of truth.

To stop thinking about that, Lanius kissed her. The medicine worked so well, he gave himself a second dose, and then a third. One thing led to another, and he and Cristata didn’t leave the storeroom for quite a while.

“Tell me I’m not hearing this.” Grus’ head ached as though he’d had too much wine, but he hadn’t had any. “A second wife? A serving girl my own son abused? Why, in the name of the gods?”

“I said, if I can’t find her a husband that suits her,” Lanius answered.

“You told her that?” Grus asked. Lanius nodded. Grus groaned. “What makes you think she’ll find anyone else ‘suitable’ if she has the chance to be a queen?”

Lanius frowned. Grus recognized the frown—it was thoughtful. Hadn’t that occurred to him? Maybe it hadn’t. At last, he said, “Have you paid any attention to Cristata? Say what you will about her, she’s honest.”

“She’s certainly made you think she is, anyhow,” Grus said. “Whether that’s the same thing is a different question. And here’s one more for you—why are you doing this to my daughter?”

“Who knows just why a man and a woman do what they do?” Lanius answered. “Why did you do this to your wife, for instance?”

Grus gritted his teeth. He might have known Lanius would find that particular question. As a matter of fact, he had known it, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Now he had to find an answer for it. His first try was an evasion. “That’s different,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” Lanius agreed. “You exiled your other woman. I want to marry mine. Which of us has the advantage there?”

“You’re not being fair,” Grus said, flicked on a sore spot. He wasn’t happy about what he’d done about— with—to—Alca, and wasn’t proud of it, either. It had been the only way he saw to keep peace with Estrilda. That might have made it necessary, but he had the bad feeling it didn’t make it right.

The other king shrugged. “I never said anything—not a word— about what you did with your women up until now. You might have the courtesy to stay out of my business, too.”

“It’s also my business, you know,” Grus said. “You’re married to my daughter. I know Sosia’s not happy about this. She’s told me so.”

“She’s told me so, too,” Lanius admitted. “But I’d be happier with Cristata than without her. I’m King of Avornis… I think. Don’t I get to decide anything at all about how I live—Your Majesty?”

When Grus used the royal title with Lanius, he was usually being polite. When Lanius used it with Grus— which he seldom did—he was usually being reproachful. Grus felt his face heat. He held his hands a few inches apart. “Only about this much of you is ‘happier’ with this girl. You’re thinking with your crotch, not with your head. That isn’t like you.”

Lanius turned red, but he didn’t change his mind. “Well, what if I am?” he said. “I’m not the only one who ever has.” He looked straight at Grus.

He’s going to do this, Grus realized. He’s not going to pay attention to me telling him no. What can I do about it? He saw one thing he might try, and said, “Go talk to Anser about this. He’s closer to your age, but I think he’d also tell you it’s not a good idea.”

“I like Anser. Don’t get me wrong—I do,” Lanius said. “I like him, but I know he’d tell me whatever you tell him to tell me. And we both know he’s arch-hallow on account of that, not because he’s holy.”

“Yes.” Grus admitted in private what he never would in public. “Even so, I swear to you, Lanius, I have not spoken with him about this. Whatever he says, he will say, and that’s all there is to it. Talk to him. He has good sense—and you, right now, don’t.”

“When you say I don’t have good sense, you mean I’m not doing what you want me to,” Lanius said, but then he shrugged. “All right. I’ll talk to him. But he won’t change my mind.”

Back stiff with defiance, Lanius went off to the cathedral. Grus waited until he was sure the other king had left the palace, then pointed to three or four servants. “Fetch me the serving woman named Cristata,” he told them. His voice held the snap of command. They hurried away.

Before long, one of them led her into the little audience chamber. “Oh!” she said in surprise when she saw Grus. “When he told me the king wanted to see me, I thought he meant—”

“Lanius,” Grus said, and Cristata nodded. He went on, “Well, I do.” He could see why Lanius wanted her, too, and why Ortalis had. But that had nothing to do with anything. He went on, “Are you really bound and determined to become Queen of Avornis, or would being quietly set up for life in a provincial town be enough to satisfy you?”

If she said she was bound and determined to be Lanius’ queen, Grus knew his own life would get more difficult. She paused to consider before she answered. She’s not stupid, either, Grus thought. Is she smart enough to see when she’s well off? Or is she as head-over-heels for Lanius as he is for her?

She said, “I’ll go, Your Majesty. If I stay, I’ll have you for an enemy, won’t I? I don’t want that. Anyone in Avornis would be a fool to want you for an enemy, and I hope I’m not a fool.”

“You’re not,” Grus assured her. “ ‘Enemy,’ I think, goes too far. But I am going to protect my own family as best I can. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“Probably,” Cristata answered. “I have to trust you, don’t I, about what ‘quietly set for life’ means? You were generous paying for what Ortalis did.”

Grus found himself liking her. She had nerve, to bargain with someone with so much more power—and to make him feel guilty for using it. He said, “By the gods, Cristata, I won’t cheat you. Believe me or not, as you please.” When she nodded, he went on, “We have a bargain, then?” She nodded again. So did he. “Gather up whatever you need to take with you. If we’re going to do this, I want you gone before Lanius can call you again.”

“Yes, I can see how you might.” Cristata sighed. “I will miss him. He’s… sweet. But you could have done a lot worse to me, couldn’t you?”

Only after she was gone did Grus realize that last wasn’t necessarily praise.

“You… You…” Lanius’ fury rose up and choked him. What he could do about it, however, knew some very sharp bounds. Grus was the one with the power, and he’d just used it.

“Think whatever you like,” he said now. “Call me whatever you like. If you’re going to take serving girls to bed now and again, I won’t fuss, though Sosia might. You’re a man. It happens. I ought to know.”

His calm words gave Lanius’ rage nowhere to light. Absurdly, Lanius realized he never had taken Cristata to bed. Coupling on the floor, even on a carpet, wasn’t the same. “I love her!” he exclaimed.

“She’s nice-looking. She’s clever. She’s got spirit,” Grus said. “And you picked her out yourself. You didn’t have her forced on you. No wonder you had a good time with her. But love? Don’t be too sure.”

“What do you know about it, you—?” Lanius called him the vilest names he knew.

“I think you’re sweet, too,” Grus answered calmly. Lanius gaped. Grus went on, “What do I know about it? Oh, a little something, maybe. Cristata reminds me more than a little of Anser’s mother.”

“Oh,” Lanius said. Try as he would to stay outraged, he had trouble. Maybe Grus did know what he was talking about after all. Lanius went on, “You still had no business—none, do you hear me?—interfering in my