by Glen Cook
All for naught. A perfectly healthy Inger greeted him at the door. “What’re you doing here? I didn’t expect you till tomorrow.”
“Didn’t Derel explain?”
“Derel? I haven’t seen him.”
Michael exchanged glances with Liakopulos. “He was supposed to meet us here. We’re way late. Some rioting. Your friends are claiming we’ve killed you.”
“I looked over the papers. I can sign them. Why did you bring the General?
I thought he was at Baxendala on maneuvers.”
“He was. He came back. Let’s don’t worry about the papers. Damn it, Derel, where are you?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Have you been comfortable enough?”
“As comfortable as one can be in a ruin. I’ll be glad to get out of Kavelin. It’s been nothing but heartaches. I was a fool to want to make Fulk King.”
“There you go, Michael,” the General said. “Antedate the papers.”
Inger’s eyes narrowed. “What is going on? Why are you here? Why is Derel coming? To give those rioters something to scream about?”
Michael laughed weakly. “Far from it. It’s a big confab. You. Me. The General. Derel. Mundwiller. Abaca. Only I’m beginning to wonder if the rest are going to show. Maybe the riots turned worse, or something. General?”
Liakopulos shrugged. “The word could have gotten through. You know what that would mean.”
Inger said, “Michael, you’d better get to the point.”
Michael looked at Liakopulos. The General nodded. “All right. The straight of it. The King is dead. Fulk is King.”
“What? How? Are you sure?” Inger became very pale. Her hands fluttered aimlessly.
“He tried to sneak up on Lord Hsung. While he was out of touch with us, Hsung was assassinated, replaced, and his invasion of Hammad al Nakir called off. When Bragi got to Throyes the legions were waiting for him. Only a few men got away. The General brought the word today.”
“Let’s go somewhere where I can sit down.” As she led them into the house, she muttered, “He’s dead? Bragi is dead? I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true, Your Majesty,” Liakopulos replied. “It was a great bloody slaughter, and he was among the last to fall.”
“Spare me the gory details,” she breathed, “He’s dead? I don’t believe it. How could that be? He was always so lucky. I didn’t even believe he’d go through the pass. I thought he was up at Maisak waiting for the Estates to do something so he could come down and hang a few Nordmen.” She wheeled on Michael. “This is another of your schemes, isn’t it?”
“No, Inger. No scheme. We talked it over this afternoon. It got hot, but we decided to come out as a group and tell you. Your son is King. You’re Regent. We want to take you back and get the government into your hands before the news gets out and Kavelin begins tearing itself apart.”
“He’s not dead. I don’t believe that. It’s some kind of a trick.” She looked at each man. “Oh. You really believe it. But it isn’t possible…. Why are you even telling me? You were finally getting rid of me.”
“That was when you were intriguing against the Crown,” Michael said. “Now you are the Crown. What it boils down to is, we decided to stick with the law. The law was on our side then. Now it’s on yours. We don’t agree with you on much, but our duty is to the Crown. We came to take you back.”
Inger sat down. “Michael, this is a lot to swallow. There’s been nothing but bitterness. All of a sudden, now, you people are going to be on my side?”
“Only in a manner of speaking,” General Liakopulos said. “Inasmuch as Sir Gjerdrum and Baron Hardle were slain with the King, I’ve become commander of the army and Cham Mundwiller has become principal royal spokesman in the Thing. My conscience won’t let me continue in my post longer than it takes you to replace me. But continue I will, to maintain order. When you replace me I’ll retire to High Crag.”
Inger’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
Michael replied, “Really. Derel plans to return to the Rebsamen. I haven’t spoken to Cham, but I expect he’ll fight a desperate rearguard action till you can get rid of the Thing altogether. Abaca didn’t say, but he’ll probably go back to his people. He already ordered the Marena Dimura troops to return home.”
“That little toad. He’ll cause trouble. He hates me.”
“You didn’t do much to make him love you.”
She gave him a hard look. He didn’t flinch. “What about you, Michael? What do you plan to do?”
“Probably the same as the General. Help keep order till the transition is over, then leave. I don’t want to see what your people are going to do to Kavelin. I have family in the west. I’ll go back to the business, the way I was supposed to years back.”
“You really think the people on my side are plunderers, don’t you?”
“There’s little evidence to the contrary, Inger. I recall only a handful of Nordmen who ever cared a whit for the kingdom or anyone but themselves. And the history of your family is common knowledge. I expect your cousin will swoop down like a bandit chieftain. When he’s picked the kingdom’s bones, he’ll sell what’s left, the Gap, to the Dread Empire, for a western vice-regality, or something of the sort. And you and Fulk will get nothing but the short end.”
“You have an altogether too narrow view. Let’s not argue politics.”
“Let’s don’t. The important thing now is to get you back to the castle before people find out about the King. If we don’t, all hell will break loose. Kavelin can’t survive another civil war. There’re too many wolves waiting to devour it.”
“You’re right. Absolutely right.” Inger stared into the distance. “Michael, now that it’s fallen on me, I don’t really want it.”
“It’ll be rough. Just as rough as it was for Bragi.”
“He used to say he never wanted it either.”
“He didn’t.”
Liakopulos said, “Your Majesty, when dreams come true sometimes they turn out to be nightmares.”
“Nightmare or not, the kingdom is in your hands,” Michael said.
“I don’t want the responsibility.”
“Then why all the plotting, the duplicity, the dealing with monsters like Lord Hsung and Magden Norath?” Michael demanded.
“It looked different then. I don’t know if you can understand. Anyway, I just did what I thought was best for Fulk. I didn’t ever want to run things myself.” She paused thoughtfully. “I want you to know something. I want you to believe it. No matter what else happened, I loved him. I loved him a lot. And when the numbness wears off, I just might come apart. Stick with me that long, will you?”
“I’ll stay as long as you want. The General too. And Derel. I know you don’t much like us, but we’re willing to help because….”
“I know. I know. For Kavelin.” She rose and began pacing. “Damned pimple of a kingdom. It’s gotten to me, too, a little. I find myself caring. Hating it, but caring. At the same time.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. The General said, “It does seem infectious.”
One of the Queen’s handful of companions slipped in. He was clad as a squatter. “Milady, there’s a man outside shouting for Captain Trebilcock. One of the Palace Guard.”
“Michael?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see what he wants.” He went out the back and round the side of the house while the others went to the front to watch through the ruined windows.
The man was one of the trusted handful who had spirited Inger out of the castle. Michael slipped up close, asked, “What is it, Mark?”
The man jumped. “Sir! I didn’t hear you coming.”
“You look awful. What’s happened?”
“The riots…. Sir, Colonel Abaca announced that the King had been killed trying to attack Throyes. People just went crazy.”
“Oh, damn him! Damn him to hell! Damn me! I should have expected that.
How bad is it?”
“Awful
sir. The Quarter is burning. There’s looting. Wessons and Nordmen are fighting each other in the streets. They’re both picking on the Siluro. They all think the Queen is dead too. The Estates have seized the Thing. They tried to break into the palace. We drove them off the first time, but who knows now?”
“Prataxis. Mundwiller. What about them? Can’t they get anything organized?”
“They’re dead, sir. At least, Mundwiller was dead when I left. They were ambushed in the street. We got Prataxis back inside the palace, but Doctor Wachtel said he wouldn’t live long.”
“What about the regular garrison?” Liakopulos demanded, stepping out of the house. “What are they doing?”
“Colonel Abaca ordered them back into barracks after his announcement, sir.”
Michael said, “Bring the Queen, General. Let’s get in there and try to do something.”
“It’s probably too late.”
“Probably.”
Inger stepped out of the house. She had changed dramatically. Her manner had become regal. She told her men to get their horses.
Michael smiled. “Your Majesty.”
She looked at him strangely. “You’ve never called me that before.”
“You never earned it, in my estimation. I think you’re ready for it now. Let’s mount up.”
“One more thing, sir,” Mark said. “A message. Prataxis had it. Gave it to me. Said for your eyes only.” He handed it across.
Michael held the letter close, strained to make out what it said. “I hope this satisfies you, Inger.”
“Michael?”
“The letter is from my agent in Sedlmayr. I sent Kristen and the King’s children down there right before the big championship match. Anyway, Itaskians raided the house and killed everyone in it.”
Inger shuddered. “What? How could they? I… I’d never allow anything like that. All my people are here, anyway.”
“All your people.” Michael scowled into the gathering darkness, battling his anger. “But not your cousin’s. I neglected to tell you before, for obvious reasons, that Gales is back. Along with your cousin the Duke.”
Inger didn’t respond till everyone was mounted. “That’s Dane’s style. Damn him. The filthy… Michael, believe me, I never wanted anything like that.”
“Maybe not. But it’s the sort of thing you should expect from your cousin.”
“There’ll be an accounting. Let’s ride.”
The Duke and his force were thirty miles from the capital, taking their evening meal in an encampment on the estate of a Nordmen ally. Representatives of the Estates were gathering at the castle nearby. There would be a council of war.
“You look glum, Gales,” the Duke observed. “Sir Mortin says you’ve been down since you found out Haas tracked you home.”
“Your Lordship?”
“I don’t want my best man unhappy. Is there anything I can do?”
Go back home, Gales thought. Leave these people alone. “No, My Lord. I’m just a little under the weather, I think. It’ll work itself out.”
The Duke chuckled. “You don’t approve of what we’re doing, do you?”
“No. But I’m a soldier. It’s not my place to approve or disapprove.”
The Duke nodded amiably. His hunters had returned from Sedlmayr. He was in a good mood. Inger’s brat had no more competition for the throne. Inger would be the power behind the boy, and he would pull her strings. “Mortin. In this meeting tonight, pick out the ones we’ll need to be rid of first.”
Mortin started to reply. He stared over the Duke’s shoulder. His eyes got big. Gales stared too. The Duke spun. “Norath! What the hell are you doing here?”
A huge man stepped into the light. Behind him two tall, muscular bodyguards looked on with eyes like chips of ice. “Our mutual friend asked me to drop in.” Norath’s voice was high and squeaky, completely at odds with his physical size. Gales tittered nervously.
“I wish he wouldn’t keep trying to take things over.”
“He doesn’t see the alliance as on only when it’s convenient for you. And he has a special interest in this country. He told me to make sure you don’t screw it up, the way your family usually does.”
Sir Mortin rose, snatched up a sword. One of Norath’s bodyguards struck the blade from the knight’s hand. Red of face, the Duke said, “Take it easy. We’re supposed to be friends.”
“No,” Norath said. “Not friends, Dane. Allies. There’s a meeting tonight. I’ll attend as one of your party. You’ll tell no one who I am.”
“Whatever you say. But why are you here really? I thought you were tied up in Hammad al Nakir.”
“The opportunities here are greater.” He settled near the fire. One of his bodyguards took the best meat off the roasting spit and gave it to him.
The Duke fumed quietly, schemes of vengeance shaping in his mind. He wouldn’t endure humiliation from anyone.
Gales watched from outside the center of activity, wrestling his conscience for the thousandth time. Could he remain in service to a man who dealt with Magden Norath’s like? He had his debt, true, but didn’t he also have a higher moral responsibility? Wasn’t his debt, in fact, more to Inger than to Dane’s family?
Shortly after Norath appeared a messenger arrived saying that the commander of the Vorgreberg garrison had announced that the King was dead. Chaos ruled the city.
“Perfect,” the Duke said. “We can restore order and be hailed as saviors.”
The messenger added, “There’s also a strong rumor saying Ragnarson’s cronies have murdered the Queen and her son. The people think there’s no one to take over.”
“I will.”
“Legally, fool. Legally.”
Gales chuckled. The Duke’s scheme was so much dust if Inger was dead. All those years for nothing. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving soul. But his humor lasted only a moment. Inger was too dear a price for Dane’s embarrassment.
General Liakopulos led the way round west of Vorgreberg, to the barracks of the King’s Own, which lay outside the city wall. He found the troops demoralized and confused. He instructed their commander to assemble them.
“Men,” he said, “you’ve heard that the King is dead. You’ve heard the Queen was murdered. I give the lie to the latter right now. Her Majesty the Queen.”
Inger stepped forward. Liakopulos had torchbearers illuminate her, so there would be no doubt. “There’s been a battle in the east. The King was involved. We did lose it, and badly. But as yet we have no direct evidence that the King was killed. All we have are rumors started by people who want to profit from confusion and despair. It’s just more of the same thing that goes on every day in Vorgreberg. Don’t take it seriously. Don’t sit around like men condemned. We’re soldiers. Our job is to maintain order. It’s time we got on with that.”
He spoke a while longer, trying to restore morale. He did not scruple against lying. When he finished he turned the troops over to their captains, who prepared to move into the city.
“Major, they seem a little weak, number wise. What happened?”
“Desertions. We lost close to seventy men. All the Marena Dimura scouts. Most of the lads of Nordmen background. The Wessons stood up better.”
“They were always a more solid lot. All right. We’re going to split the force into two companies. One will accompany the Queen to the palace. The other will follow me to the Vorgreberger barracks. We’ll get them stirring, then start clearing the streets.”
The Major looked out his window. An orange glow illuminated the underbelly of the clouds. “It may be too big a job for the tools at hand. General.”
“We’ll try anyway, Major. That’s our job. Don’t relay your doubts to your men.”
“Of course not, sir. If you’ll excuse me? Your Majesty?”
“One moment,” Michael said, speaking for the first time. “Where’s Colonel Abaca?”
“I haven’t heard anything since he ordered us into barracks.”
“I s
ee. Thank you.”
Passing through the city’s unguarded, deserted, open western gate, Michael told Inger, “That damned Credence wanted this. Guess he figured he wouldn’t leave you much to take over. Damn. He was a good man, too.”
“I never saw much good in him.”
“You looked at him as Marena Dimura, not as a man. Till today he was a perfect soldier. But for Bragi.”
Inger didn’t respond.
“Bragi was the glue that held everything together,” Michael mused. “Even the Estates respected him. His is going to be a hard act to follow.”
“Don’t try to sell me anything, Michael.”
Shouts came from the head of the column. A squadron whooped off after a band of looters. They were rounded up, tied neck to neck, and forced to march alongside. The number of prisoners grew steadily, though Michael insisted the column keep to the quieter parts of town.
“They should be cut down where they’re found,” Inger complained.
“Part of the problem is Credence’s savagery earlier,” Michael countered. “There’s a place for savagery, but not when you’re trying to smooth troubled waters. If we butchered anybody now we’d just get more angry people. You can’t intimidate a mob. It grows faster than you can cut it apart. When you’re dealing with a more limited, planned thing, like the riots a while back, then savagery can have some value.”
He glanced over. Inger wasn’t really listening. Since departing the manor she had retreated ever farther into herself. She was realizing how much had settled onto her shoulders.
There was a mob at the palace gate. Nordmen agitators were trying to get them to break in. The Guard was showing admirable restraint by not firing on them. Inger snapped, “Wait! Let me try first,” as the company commander began dispersing for a charge.
“Your Majesty….”
“They think I’m dead. Seeing me may calm them down.”
Michael nodded. “I was right. You do have courage when it counts. Let her, Captain. Fiana used to do this sort of thing and people loved her for it.” Something touched his cheek coolly. He held out a hand. Sprinkles. He looked at the fire-bellied clouds over the Quarter. They seemed lower and fatter. “It may rain. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
