crazy.”
“He’s insane already,” the cardinal said.
“I don’t think he is,” Wulf countered. “Darina, come here a moment.”
The marquessa stepped out of nothing and bobbed a mocking curtsey to the outraged cardinal.
Wulf stood up, noting that Brother Daniel had disappeared: two’s company, three’s dangerous. “Do you consider the prince a fool, my lady?”
She tilted her head and put a finger to her lips in an affected gesture. “Not really. He is limited in many ways, but his lechery is a pose. I’d call him sly. He’s a fox that no one has bothered to housebreak.”
Wulf said, “Thank you,” politely.
“You’re welcome.”
“There’s something you could do to help the prince: give Princess Olga lessons in, um, her duties.”
The marquessa drew a breath. “Olga? Olga is in a nunnery! You expect me to just walk in there? Taking along a male accomplice? for demonstration purposes, I suppose?”
“I am sure you’ll find a way.”
“No, I won’t! I told you: she’s hotter than an alley cat. He’s the one who needs lessons, and that’s your job. The moment this gig ends I’ll be out of here. I’ve got my eye on a little port in Sicily. Oh, those Sicilian fishermen!” Darina rolled her eyes and disappeared.
Brother Daniel returned.
Zdenek was livid with fury at such incriminating antics being performed in his office. They could put him in peril of investigation by the Inquisition, and were a reminder of how vulnerable a workaday like him was to Speakers in general. His hireling guardian Daniel had abandoned him the moment he felt outnumbered.
“Trollop!”
“She’s no saint,” Wulf said, “but I think she’s actually quite fond of the prince.” And possibly more loyal than certain other people.
“Forget the idiot for the moment, Wulfgang. Explain to me why the Pomeranian flag is flying over Castle Gallant.”
“The what?” Wulf opened a gate to the battlements and shut it after one glimpse of the standards flying above the keep. An eagle had replaced Jorgary’s bear, and a Vranov hound the Magnus mailed fist. Appalled, he slumped back down on the chair. Otto and Vlad were sitting on the bed in the Unicorn Room, playing chess. Anton… He could not find Anton. He could not find Anton! Yesterday Anton had been asleep in the middle of the afternoon. But Otto had said nothing about… Otto had said, “Wait!” as Wulf was about to leave, and then, “It doesn’t matter now.” Vlad and Otto were prisoners-on parole maybe, but prisoners. And where was Anton?
“I can’t find my brother,” he whispered.
“I am truly sorry,” Brother Daniel said, sounding sincere. “We thought you would know. Count Magnus died of wounds in the night. He is at peace with the Lord.”
But when had this disaster happened? Obviously the night before last. Wulf had been asleep in Rome, and yesterday he had been denied the use of his talent until Cardinal d’Estouteville sent him off on his quest. Ever since the jump at Chestnut Hill, he had not had a moment alone. Before that he had gone to consult Otto, and Otto had kept the news from him, seeing that he had major troubles of his own. He had thought Anton was asleep then, but he must have been either unconscious or drugged. Wulf could have healed him! Why had Otto not told him?
Marek dead. Anton dead. Wulf himself in the shadow of the Inquisition. Vlad and Otto both hostages.
Rescue them? But he couldn’t. The fact that they were ut they wnder room arrest and not chained in a dungeon showed that they must have given their paroles, so they would refuse to leave.
“This is sorcery! No workaday could take Castle Gallant away from my brothers! What happened? Pomeranians? Revenge for what I did to their powder wagons?”
“Havel Vranov,” the cardinal said. “As you say, he must have used sorcery to bypass the defenses.”
Vranov! Wulf stood up. “Excuse me for a few moments, Your Eminence. I have a traitor’s head to bring…”
“Wait!” shouted the friar. “Vranov’s fate is not for you to decide. His case will be considered this evening.”
“By whom?” Wulf demanded furiously. “A man must avenge a brother’s murder!”
The friar hesitated, glancing uneasily at the workaday Zdenek. “The Saints are deeply concerned about the Agioi’s meddling in Catholic territory, and the Agioi have brought countercharges regarding the death of Duke Wartislaw. There is to be a conference this evening. Lady Umbral hopes you will be able to attend, but the invitation does not include a safe conduct.”
Of course not. Obviously Castle Gallant would have to wait.
Wulf turned again to face the cardinal’s glittering eyeglasses. “First I must satisfy Cardinal d’Estouteville, or by this evening I may be tied to a ladder in the dungeons of the Inquisition. Will you please attach the royal seal to the contract and let me complete that business?”
The cardinal stood up. “For me, as for anyone else, to forge our sovereign’s signature would be high treason. You may accompany me, so that you can testify that you watched His Majesty sign. Brother Daniel?”
The friar placed the betrothal contract in a bulky document bag, tied it securely, and then ushered his client through the two successive doors to the anteroom. Wulf followed. Konrad and his cronies had gone, but dozens of waiting blue bloods raised their heads hopefully, then sprang to their feet in surprise as the great man himself emerged. Hands tucked in sleeves, he trod a dignified pace toward the distant doorway, passing through their midst like a scarlet swan among mallards, acknowledging their exaggerated bows and curtseys with the merest twitch of spiky white eyebrows.
Whatever they might be making at that moment of the flaxen-haired young man in the bizarre foreign outfit who followed him so humbly, Wulf knew that they would not rest until they had identified him. The prince’s coterie would supply both his name and his lofty new rank as the prince’s master of horse. They would also report that the bonny lad gained his title by horsing around in the royal bed. Already the court must be agog at the news that Konrad had paid a visit to the Scarlet Spider and seemed to be reconciled with him-and now here was the prince’s new favorite in close attendance on His Eminence! These momen! These tous events would be debated for days.
Wulf regarded his new fame with dread, feeling the teeth of doom closing around him. A second untried Magnus being raised to high office in less than a week would drag the family history out into full sunlight. Historians, archivists, and genealogists would recall that the Magnuses of Dobkov had for centuries been famous for their swordsmen and infamous for their sorcerers. Miracle promotions, wondrous-fast journeys, and military catastrophes of biblical proportions would combine in a witches’ brew of suspicion that the Church could not possibly overlook, no matter how much the eminent Cardinal d’Estouteville might want it to. And perhaps that reverend gentleman wouldn’t care, once he had squeezed everything he needed from the youthful Satanist.
So Sir Wulfgang Magnus left the hall in the company of the king’s first minister. Brother Daniel might as well have been invisible, and so might the three young novices dispatched by the chancellor to scamper along the sides of the hall and vanish out the door before His Eminence was halfway there. They would be carrying word of his coming and summoning helpers he might need. Zdenek had his staff well trained.
Once out into the corridor, he gestured for Wulf to come forward and walk at his side.
“Assuming the Eminent Cardinal d’Estouteville does not consign you to the flames, what will you do about Castle Gallant?”
The audacity of the man! Was Wulf now expected to solve every single problem in the kingdom? Single- handed? Of course Zdenek’s predicament was obvious and totally beyond his workaday control. He certainly did not want King Krystof II marching his army north to lay siege to Gallant. Within days the news would be out, and instead of the stunning triumph of the Wends’ defeat, he would be announcing that a traitor had seized the king’s strongest fortress. Zdenek was at the mercy of the Saints, and Lady Umbral might set a price beyond nightmares of avarice.
Wulf would have terms of his own, which he need not mention now.
“Assuming I can satisfy Cardinal d’Estouteville and escape the Inquisition, Your Eminence, then my duty to His Highness will certainly include seeing that Cardice is returned to its loyalty. Disposing of the traitor Vranov will also be a personal pleasure, of course.”
The heralds would have an interesting problem of succession to settle. As Anton’s younger brother, Wulf
