“Don’t ask me!” she said furiously. “Why did you lip him like that?”
Because the royal turd had called the Magnuses a litter. Wulf didn’t answer.
She said, “If you really do let them tie your hands, then there won’t be any doubt that you’re using talent. You’ll be breaking the first commandment to powder.”
“You don’t imagine I have any intention of turning up? To perform like a juggler for that bunch of daffodils?”
Konrad might be as celibate and virtuous as a saint, but he posed as an effemid aturning upnate lecher. No real man would serve such an ambiguous jackanapes or be seen within a league of him.
They turned the corner and almost collided with another procession, this time entirely female. The leader was young and soberly dressed in dove gray. She clasped a missal in both hands and kept her eyes sedately lowered, but she wore a tiara, and must be Princess Laima. She was followed by a couple of ladies-in-waiting of about her own age, and three much older nuns.
Darina stepped aside and curtseyed. Wulf repeated his floor-sweeping bow. The princess spared them one very fast glance and then dropped her gaze to the tiles again, pacing on by, no doubt heading for an evening visit to her dying grandfather.
“Friendly little miss,” Wulf remarked softly after the parade had safely vanished around the corner. Of course, Darina was a fallen woman and he was dressed like a laborer.
“She’s twice the man her brother is.”
He laughed, and suddenly the rage drained out of him and he remembered how tired he was. When they reached her door, he opened it for her. “Thank you for a fascinating evening, my lady. But you will have to solve Crown Prince Konrad’s problems without me. I must consider my reputation.”
He stepped into limbo.
Now what? The pale nothingness of limbo seemed very restful after palace, castle, and battlefield; it might be a good place to indulge in that sleep time he needed so much. No one could disturb him there. Or could they? More than anything else, he needed instruction in the uses of talent. He knew where to go for that.
CHAPTER 25
Two days ago, Otto had waited on Cardinal Zdenek in his office, but in daylight. By night the place seemed airless and more menacing. The luxuries of gilt and mirrors, of rich drapes and crystal chandeliers, all failed to lighten it or soften its vaunting arrogance. The scraggy old man was leaning forward on his throne, glaring furiously, with little red patches of rage glowing on the milky skin above his white beard and long yellow teeth. He held out his ring for them to kiss-earl first, then baron.
And he left them both on their knees. Otto held a title created back in the twelfth century, and Zdenek was the son of a butcher. Anton belonged to the premier chivalric order in the kingdom, but this glorified upstart clerk considered that he had put him there, so he could treat both noblemen like errant schoolboys called before their magister. Worse, he was deliberately humbling them in front of a witness, for when Otto risked a backward glance, he confirmed that the friar was still present, now seated at a desk behind the door.
“What does it take, Count Anton, to win your loyalty?” the old scoundrel raged, snarling down at them, spraying spit. “Five days ago I created you out of nothing. I found you in an old woman’s bed, swiving her for money, and I made you one of the wealthiest landowners in the country. I deeded you one of the finest count'0em'down at thies in the land. I promoted you from cannon fodder to the highest order of chivalry and gave you the hand of a great and beautiful heiress, whom you have now deflowered and plan to hand down to your juvenile brother so he can have his turn with her. What thanks is that?”
Anton’s face was redder than the cardinal’s robes. “But I am exceedingly grateful to Your Eminence, and I know of no reason whatever for Your Eminence to accuse me otherwise. It is true that Lady Madlenka has indicated that she loves my-”
“Loves! Loves? Romantic childish rubbish! Take a switch to her backside and teach her where her loyalty lies. Three or four good beatings will soon change her heart. Let me hear no idle jabber of love.”
Otto, who had the great good fortune to be married to a woman of both spirit and intelligence, reflected sadly that Zdenek’s views would be those of most men, including Bishop Ugne. Yet for centuries the noblemen of Europe had made a habit of riding away on crusades and leaving their lands and families in the care of their wives, and the wives had done just as good a job of running them as their menfolk would have done. Otto himself had no fears for Dobkov’s management while it was in Branka’s hands. Women might know otherwise, but most men still thought that only they could make wise decisions.
The butcher’s son had not done. “And if not gratitude, why not a little loyalty, eh? Why are you consorting with traitors, tell me that!”
Anton’s flush of fury faded abruptly to pallor. “Traitors? I am a loyal servant of King Konrad and know nothing of traitors, Your Eminence.”
“What about Hedwig Schlutz? She likes to be styled Marquessa Darina, but she is no more a marquessa than you are. Even less. You expect me to believe that you are ignorant of the current politics of Jorgary? You must know how things stand between the crown prince and his grandfather.”
Otto resisted a strong temptation to purse his lips or even whistle, but Anton needed no prompting to find the correct riposte.
“Your Eminence is accusing Crown Prince Konrad of treason? I was certainly not aware that matters had descended to that level. Furthermore,” he said quickly, “the woman I knew only as Marquessa Darina is obviously a Speaker, because she materialized in our presence uninvited and without coming through the door. To defy a Speaker would be rank insanity. She informed our brother that the crown prince wished to thank him for defeating the Wend army-news she could have only learned by supernatural means-and she led him away. Wulfgang is guilty only of courtesy to a presumed lady, Your Eminence. That hardly calls for accusations of treason!”
“Brother Daniel?” the cardinal snapped. “Where is Wulfgang Magnus at the moment?” Either he was a very good guesser or the friar had given him a signal.
“He is just approaching the king’s quarters, Eminence.”
The long yellow teeth appeared again. “For what purpose, I wonder?”
Anton’s face shone wetly and his mustache was wilting. Otto decided to carry the load for a while.
“Your Eminence, for more than three centuries our family has never wavered in its loyalty to the House of Jorgar. I am confident that His Majesty has no more faithful subject than our brother Wulfgang. He has today performed legendary service and does not deserve your slurs upon his honor. May I suggest that he is being taken to meet the king because His Majesty has expressed a wish to thank him in person?”
Of course he hadn’t. They all knew that the king had been at death’s door for weeks.
Zdenek paused for a moment to appraise this new opponent. The old villain must know that Otto would be a tougher foe, for he was almost twice Anton’s age, with many more years of experience, and he was not the cardinal’s own creation, as Anton was.
“We do not trouble His Majesty with business at this time of night. His convalescence requires extensive bed rest.”
Just by raising an eyebrow, Otto said: Even to bring him the glad news of the greatest victory in the history of Jorgary? It is true that he is in his final coma, then?
The Spider heard every syllable of that silent look. “His Majesty’s health,” he said bitingly, “is cause for concern, but he still attends to business. That said, he trusts me to handle all but the most vital affairs for him. No regency has been appointed and we have no expectation of one.” The heir apparent is still only the heir apparent.
“This is glad news, Your Eminence. We pray daily for His Majesty’s speedy recovery and long life.” We’re still on your side.
“And recent events at Cardice will not be discussed in Mauvnik until the count’s official report arrives.”
Otto now saw Zdenek as a frightened, almost pathetic, old man. His power, his great wealth, even his life’s work-all were in jeopardy and likely to vanish the moment the king stopped breathing. His cardinal’s hat might save him from the headsman’s ax, but he could hardly hope for a lesser penalty than lifetime exile. He would fight
