by Dave Duncan
The Guard’s office was a small room opening directly off the main entrance hall of Greymere Palace. The sight of that wide doorway beyond it was a fearsome temptation to Niall. The snoop’s threats had sounded very convincing. The truth must come out eventually, but the threat of a Wyld invasion demanded fast action by the government, and the best way to be sure of getting the facts would be to squeeze it out of his brain with the dreaded Question, whose effects he had seen so memorably on his visit to Goats’ Gizzard. What happened after that would not matter to him. Nothing would.
He could run out that doorway now, and vanish into the overcrowded city.
Except he was dressed like a Blade and had no money to buy other garments.
Blades, even unbound Blades, did not run away from danger.
He went into the office.
It contained two desks. The front one was deserted, but eight or nine Blades were clustered around—and in some cases sitting on—the one at the back. They were playing dice and drinking. Not all were guardsman, for they displayed a wild rainbow mix of liveries.
It was his old friend Sir Challenger who spotted him first. “Look who’s here—the missing hero!”
Despite all his protests, they then began to mob him, while demanding to know where he’d been and what he’d been doing.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” He rose on tiptoe so they could all get a glimpse of at least the feather in his cap. “Listen, you idiots! I am forbidden to talk about it.”
Pause for booing. But a straight refusal to speak at all would just fan the winds of rumour. Better to give them something they would not want to talk about.
“All right, I’ll tell you this much. I killed a man. In fact, I killed several. I acted without authority. It is entirely possible that I will be charged with murder. And convicted!”
That brought silence.
“So you would all do me a favour if you would just not talk about it, and pray that Her Majesty can manage to hush it up. Then she won’t have to hang me.”
Rumble of anger...
With some difficulty, Niall established which one of them was currently on duty, and explained that he was on standby to be summoned to a meeting. Meanwhile, he was badly in need of practice, so if someone would guide him to the gym, he would like to work up a sweat.
Whereupon half a dozen expert swordsmen volunteered to fence with the Queen’s killer.
He found that his defence was still excellent. His attack had sufficed against clodhopping Wylds, but he would need a lot more practice before he could hold his own against Blade experts again. During the fourth match, which happened to be to be with Challenger, he received word that he was to report immediately to a meeting in the Lord Chancellor’s office. By then he had worked up enough sweat to float a Baelish dragon ship. In the belief that the most exalted nobility of Chivial would have more to worry about than his hygiene, he grabbed up his shirt and doublet and ran all the way there, dressing as he went.
The petitioners had gone from the anteroom, but once again there were four Blades. This time he was asked for his sword. That was a reasonable request if they were planning to arrest him, but he complied and was allowed to proceed.
There were now five men and one empty chair gathered around Lord Osprey’s desk. Niall was presented to the Queen’s Master of Horse, Grand Admiral, Deputy Bursar, and Lord Marshall. Then he was invited to sit. (Wow!) There were no inquisitors in sight, but a secretary at a stand-up desk in a corner was poised to take minutes.
“This is an emergency meeting of as many members of Her Majesty’s council as could be assembled on such short notice,” Osprey intoned. “Her Grace has given us two hours to come up with a plan of action for her consideration.
“Our information is incomplete, but it is her grace’s wish that we assume the worst possible situation and proceed on that basis.” He glanced fleetingly at Niall.
So the lying Blade was being given a reprieve, but for how long? Two hours? A week? Time to say goodbye to Fizz? At least the snoop’s lies were not being taken as incontrovertible truth. There was still some hope.
Then he realized that they were all waiting on him, and Osprey had told him to summarise the situation for them. He thought he had done this so often now that he could probably do it in his sleep or standing on his head. He had not reckoned with the mental atrophy of aristocracy. Two of his listeners did not know where Thencaster was. None of them was familiar with the history of Chivial’s efforts to annex Wylderland or the Wylds’ bloody record of raiding. Every statement he made brought questions
The first hour had fled by the time he had placed Stalwart in command of the castle, which was the most urgent problem.
Osprey, who had seemed to be of limited competency at Niall’s first meeting, now stood out as the brains of the government.
“Thank you, Sir Niall. I think I speak for all of us here when I say that you behaved magnificently, and are to be congratulated on a heroic feat of arms. Now, I realize that Her Majesty does not employ you as a strategist, but you have much more time to think about this than any of us, I invite you to tell us what You think her grace should do to meet this problem.”
(Wow again!)
“I think, my lords, that we do not yet know whether Panoleo’s death will also kill his revolution, or will inspire it to greater efforts. As this is the first crisis of Her Majesty’s reign, I believe that for her to do too little would cause far more damage than doing too much. I humbly suggest that priority should be given to assembling a force of several hundred men and sending it to the north—possibly by sea—to relieve the siege of Thencaster Castle, if it still stands, or at least to block the rebel’s main highway into Chivial.”
The next half hour was spent debating whether Her Majesty ought to postpone the coronation.
Shortly after that, a herald arrived to summon the Lord Chancellor to an audience with the Queen.
Osprey rose. “I must leave this meeting for the nonce. You gentlemen please remain here, and continue discussing the best way for her grace’s government to proceed. Sir Niall, you will accompany me.”
The Queen had retreated to a private lounge to enjoy a break from exchanging hypocrisies with foreign royalty. Niall drew his sword and handed it to Commander Bowman, one of four Blades on guard at the door. The other three looked shocked, but Bowman took it, being aware that the new hero was not yet bound.
Malinda was sipping wine, seated in a comfortable chair beside a window overlooking the palace grounds. Two ladies in waiting were embroidering in a far corner, with a three-piece orchestra playing softly so they could not overhear any royal secrets.
The Queen’s gown was bejewelled, and she wore a sparkling tiara. She seemed somewhat tired, as well she might. She greeted the newcomers with smiles, but did not invite them to sit.
All she said was, “Report, please, Lord Chancellor.”
“Sir Niall related how the Wylds, under a new Ciarán, were planning an uprising, starting by taking Thencaster Castle. Marquis Neville led a force over the border to investigate, was ambushed and seriously wounded. He lost about half his fighting men and almost all his horses....”
It was a good summary. Niall could have done no better. At the end, Malinda said, “And what did the inquisitor say?”
Niall’s heart shrivelled up in black despair
“I regret to tell you, Ma’am, that Inquisitor Brindle testified that there was no truth whatsoever in what Sir Niall had said.”
Her grace frowned darkly. “And Mother Superior?”
“She supported him completely—Sir Niall, I mean. Every word, she said.”
“That is extremely serious, Lord Chancellor! We must deal with that as soon as possible.”
“Certainly. I shall have the villain arrested at once. And sent to the Bastion, I would suggest? Chained, yes? But we ought to deal with the Th
encaster matter first, I fear.”
Niall’s world seemed to have turned inside out. He had lost track of something, and wasn’t sure what. Mother Superior was head of the White Sisters. Where did she come into this? He was to be chained to a wall in the Bastion? Or did that refer to Brindle?
“What does the council propose?”
“We need a little more time, Ma’am. If I could think of a military man you could call on to raise and lead an army... but I cannot. At this time, we do not recommend that you postpone your coronation, although if we hear more news before then, that could change. Sir Niall suggested that a first response, to reinforce Lord Hedgebury and Thencaster Castle, could be sent by sea. A subcommittee to investigate that possibility might be a good idea.”
She nodded. “Then do it. And continue planning. As fast as possible! I want action today. You have our leave, my lord. Sir Niall, stay for a word.”
Chapter 35
Grand Master warned us you were super-human.
queen malinda
Her Majesty waited until the chancellor had left, then pointed to a side table bearing a few crystal goblets and wine carafes. “Help yourself to some wine. And top up my glass, please. Then come and sit down.”
A world not just inside out, but also backward and upside down! Mind still whirling, Niall obeyed. Much had happened since he drank wine with the Queen, that wintery day in Ironhall. Or even since he walked in on the incomparable Durendal last night.
She smiled. “So you got the fighting you wanted!”
“I saw a chance and gambled, Your Grace. I hope that I did not make matters worse.”
“I hope so too, but I applaud the decision you made and what you did. If any rumbles of complaint arise, I shall pardon you. The Ciarán’s death did come after the attack on Neville?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then we can call it an act of retaliation. What do your fellow Blades think of it?”
“Most of them know nothing about it,” he admitted.
“Excellent. You do deliver, Sir Niall! You even gave us a chance to nail those obnoxious inquisitors.”
He probably gaped like a fish then, because she laughed. “Back when I was younger than you are now, Sir Niall, I had a very unpleasant experience, which I blamed on Lord Chancellor Roland. I nursed a grudge against him for years. I now realize that I was seriously mistaken. He was also involved in a peculiar way in my father’s death. I know you cannot discuss that now, but I can. However, cutting to the chase, Lord Osprey and I have recently become very suspicious of the actions of the Office of General Inquiry.”
Aha! Now things began to make sense.
“You offered us a perfect chance to catch them out, Sir Niall—a situation where a Blade’s report was of vital importance, but could not readily be confirmed.”
“The bookcase!”
“Exactly. As you probably know, some White Sisters are as skilled at detecting falsehoods as the snoops are. So, while you were reporting to Lord Osprey this afternoon, Mother Superior was listening behind the bookcase. And Inquisitor Bundle, or whatever his name is, bit down hard on the hook. He is now doomed, and I intend to let some daylight into the Dark Chamber.”
Unable to find suitable words, Niall raised his glass and she raised hers. They drank a silent toast together.
“I owe you a reward for the Thencaster business, and now for this. I can’t give you Ephraim Morley’s head again. We buried it still attached, but suggest something.”
“Only my original dream, of being bound in the Forge at Ironhall to serve in Your Majesty’s Guard.”
“That you shall have, of course, as soon as I can schedule a trip west.” The Queen paused for a moment as if making a decision. “I think I can do better than that. Sir Niall, I spent most of my childhood in this palace or my father’s other residences. I knew the Royal Guard when it was led by men like Montpurse and Bandit. Yes, and Durendal too. Frankly, it is not now what it was then. I fear that my father’s judgement failed him in his last years, so he made some very questionable appointments. Commander Dragon was most unimpressive, and the present Commander Bowman always looks half asleep, as if he put his livery on inside out.”
Where in the world was this blather leading? Then Niall discovered that even his eyes had started playing tricks on him. A day of wonders excelled itself. From somewhere the Pirate’s Wife had produced a silver ribbon, narrower than Leader’s, but certainly Deputy’s badge.
“If I appoint you, can you bring the Guard up to snuff for me?”
The others would never stand for it. He had yet to be bound... Nine tenths of them out-ranked him in length of service... He hadn’t even found the palace latrines yet.... True, he claimed to have killed the king of the rebels, but no other Blade had been given the opportunity to do anything like that. Yet they valued swordsmanship most of all, and there he could hold his own. He could certainly try.
“I would do my best, Your Grace.”
“Your best is most impressive, so far.” Malinda stood up, so he slid off his chair onto his knees. Smiling, she looped the ribbon over his neck and he put an arm through it. “As Deputy, you will carry the Sword of Justice in the parade, and stand beside the throne during the ceremony.”
It took him two swallows to adjust to that.
“And, while I remember, someone has his hand in the Guard’s payroll bucket.”
So, she really just wanted the banker’s son?
“I will certainly stop that, Your Grace. Can I have a ticket to the coronation for my wife?”
“Wife? When did you find time for wooing?”
“While I was in Thencaster, Ma’am. I have the honour of being married to Fizzan Fitzambrose, the Marquis’s daughter.”
Malinda exploded in raucous bellows that were highly un-Queen-like, even unlady-like, but reminiscent of a noise he had sometimes heard emitted at high table when her father had visited Ironhall.
“You are unreal, Sir Niall! Grand Master warned us you were super-human, and I see that he was right. Now go and see if you can hammer that rabble out there into something a little more like yourself. But do not mention the Wylds until we know what we are going to do about them!”
Deputy Commander Niall closed the door quietly behind him. The expression on Commander Bowman’s face as he handed over Denial showed that he had not been consulted about the new appointment. The other three Blades seemed to be struck dumb.
Then one of them said, “Fire and Water! What did you do to her to earn that?”
Luckily Niall knew his name, and could bark it. “Sir Lindsay!”
Startled, Lindsay snapped to attention. “Deputy?”
“That remark sounds to me like gross lese-majesty.”
He paled. “It was not intended as such, Deputy.”
“Then it was exceedingly careless. Blades do not make scurrilous remarks about the monarch.” Niall poked Lindsay’s belly, which overhung his sword belt a little more than was seemly. “I think you could benefit from a few five-mile runs, brother. Report to Leader with a recommendation for an appropriate number.”
Niall wondered what the others were thinking. He could not himself believe that he was actually doing this. Their faces were a picture he would surely never forget. But Lindsay had asked a valid question in a vulgar way. Talking about Thencaster was still forbidden, but there were other ways to become a Blade hero.
“This?” He fingered the ribbon. “This morning I made a long and still secret report to the Bird. A senior snoop, Inquisitor Brindle, was present as witness, and he testified that I was lying. What he did not know was that Mother Superior was also present, and she later vindicated me. Brindle is now on his way to the Bastion in chains, and the Pirate’s Wife is set to tear the balls off the Dark Chamber.”
They mobbed him, shaking both his hands, hugging him and thumping his back. Even Bow
man was yelling. But Bowman, under his lackadaisical pose, was probably smarter than the average Blade. He sobered up faster than the others, suddenly looking bleaker than Starkmoor in winter.
“And do you have orders concerning the Guard, Deputy?”
“Some royal hints, Leader.”
“Report to my quarters at the curfew bell.”
“Aye, Leader.” Niall saluted and marched away. He was probably on a rapid slide from Blade hero to the most hated upstart in Guard history.
He had not gone far when he recognised an outstanding pair of ears ahead of him.
“Sir Savage!”
Savage had been next behind him in Ironhall. He would have been bound that night in Thirdmoon when Niall wasn’t. He spun around and instantly displayed his awesome jumble of teeth, like a pile of sea-bleached driftwood on a beach. Then he saw the sash and his eyes opened almost as wide.
“Niall! I heard you’d turned up at last, brother, but not... that.”
“Just happened.” A handshake turned into a hug and backslapping. “Tell me, what happened to my predecessor? He didn’t get his head bitten off, I hope?” That remark was not lese-majesty.
“Sir Fenton. He tried to put his horse over a ditch and the horse came out on top. What did you do to earn this little garnish?”
“It’s a beautiful story. Look, can you show me where Deputy’s quarters are? And tell me what my duties are?”
“Quarters—this way. Duties.... Deputy posts the roster, putting proper people punctually in pertinent places. Fenton often messed that up and with the coronation coming, it’s a boar’s nest. He also hands out the weekly pittance.”
“Does he handle discipline? Like Second does in Ironhall?”
“I think so,” Savage said vaguely. “We’re grown men, man! We don’t need our knuckles rapped all the time.”
“I know someone who doesn’t agree with that. We have a lot of visitors here just now, right? And it looks like you didn’t stand close enough to your razor this morning.”
