Spymaster

by Margaret Weis

  Sophia’s confusion deepened. She didn’t know where to look while Phillip gazed at her in dismay.

  Rodrigo gently interposed.

  “I hate to mention this, Your Highness, but your dog appears to be currently engaged in eating his own—”

  “Oh, Bandit, you naughty thing!” Sophia cried.

  “Allow me, Your Highness,” said Phillip.

  Reaching down to scoop up Bandit, he suddenly remembered where he had heard the name Rodrigo de Villeneuve. Phillip regarded him with admiration.

  “If I am not mistaken, my lord, you are the famed crafter who discovered how the seventh sigil could be used to successfully combine magic and contramagic.”

  “Sir Rodrigo is one of my professors at university,” Sophia said.

  Rodrigo was highly gratified. “Are you a crafter yourself, Your Grace?”

  “Sadly, I am not, my lord,” Phillip replied. “I found the treatise you wrote fascinating, however.”

  “Perhaps we can discuss it sometime over a bottle of wine. But first we must come to the aid of the princess.” Rodrigo looked at Sophia’s dress. “Chocolate stains, did you say, Your Highness?”

  “Yes, chocolate,” said Sophia ruefully. “I fear my poor ball gown is ruined.”

  “Not in the least,” said Rodrigo, removing his handkerchief from his sleeve. “Did I never teach this spell, Your Highness?”

  “Not in a class dealing with the ‘Techniques and Theories of Modern Magic,’” Sophia said, laughing.

  “A pity. One of the most useful spells I have ever created,” said Rodrigo. “I require two handkerchiefs. Do you have one I could borrow, Your Grace?”

  Phillip shifted Bandit, drew out a handkerchief, and handed it over. Rodrigo traced a magical construct on his handkerchief, then decorously draped that over the splotches on the bodice of Sophia’s gown. He placed Phillip’s handkerchief on top of his, drew another construct, spoke a few words of magic, and the splotches vanished from the gown, only to reappear on the handkerchief.

  “Thank you, Rodrigo!” Sophia exclaimed. “You have saved my life.”

  “One of the first spells I concocted as a child,” said Rodrigo.

  He handed Phillip back his handkerchief, which was now stained with chocolate.

  “Now your poor handkerchief is ruined,” said Sophia. “I will replace it, Your Grace.”

  “On the contrary, Your Highness,” said Phillip, tucking the handkerchief into his pocket. “I would not part with it for the world. This will always remind me of you.”

  “Spilled chocolate and dog vomit,” said Sophia, laughing.

  Her laughter was infectious, bright and sparkling. Phillip considered Thomas a great fool at that moment for terming this enchanting young woman “very nice,” and he longed to ask her what she thought of Thomas. Was she in love with him? She had spoken his name quite calmly, far more calmly than she had spoken his own. Not that it mattered what she thought of him. She was betrothed to Thomas.

  “I should return to the ball, Your Highness,” Phillip said abruptly.

  “Oh, yes, Your Grace, I am sorry to have kept you away for so long,” said Sophia. “Here, give me Bandit.”

  Phillip handed over the dog, who thanked him by giving him a swipe on the hand with his tongue.

  “He likes you,” said Sophia. “Good-bye, Your Grace. And thank you.”

  “Good-bye, Your Highness,” Phillip said.

  Neither made a move to leave, however. Sophia’s hand found its way into his hand.

  Rodrigo gave a cough and said in warning tones, “The countess!”

  Phillip was still hiding in the alcove and couldn’t see. Sophia gave a guilty start and dropped both Phillip’s hand and Bandit. The Countess de Marjolaine came sweeping down the hall, accompanied by an older woman in the somber garb of a lady’s maid.

  “Your Highness!” the countess said, with a note of gentle reproof. “Anna and I have been searching for you everywhere. You are to dance with the prince—”

  The countess caught sight of Phillip and she stopped talking in midsentence. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. He knew how this must look—a Freyan agent sneaking about the royal quarters. He didn’t know what to say. Sophia had been thrown into confusion at the mention of the prince and she, likewise, was unable to talk.

  Rodrigo came to the rescue.

  “Her Highness and I were on our way to the ball when an unfortunate mishap delayed us, my lady,” he said. “The little dog came running down the hall. I attempted to apprehend the miscreant, but failed.

  “Fortunately, as it happened, His Grace had become quite lost in the palace and was searching for the ballroom when he encountered Bandit. His Grace managed to catch the dog and was in the act of restoring him to the princess when Your Ladyship arrived upon the scene.”

  The countess looked down at Bandit, who was sitting at her feet, wagging his tail. His nose was tipped with strawberries, his ears white with powdered sugar. She looked from the dog to the unmistakable evidence that he had been sick in the corner, and her lips twitched. She seemed to be having difficulty repressing a smile.

  Her gaze went to Phillip and her smile vanished.

  “Have you met His Grace, Your Ladyship?” Rodrigo asked.

  “His Grace and I are acquainted,” said the countess.

  Her tone was smooth, coolly polite, and piercing as a poniard. Rodrigo twitched an eyebrow. Phillip made a silent bow and said nothing.

  Bandit gave a pitiful whimper and once more began to heave.

  “Someone might want to see to the dog,” Rodrigo suggested.

  Anna had been keeping a discreet distance, but now she hurried forward, gathered up Bandit, and carried him away, his howls echoing down the hall.

  “Poor Bandit,” said Sophia, looking after him.

  “Anna will take care of him, Your Highness. You should come to the ballroom. His Majesty has been asking about you,” said the countess.

  “I hope my brother is not too angry with me,” said Sophia.

  “He could not be angry with you, Your Highness,” said the countess in a tone of affection. She looped a fallen curl back into place and adjusted the roses in Sophia’s hair. “We should go now.”

  “Will you be attending the ball, Sir Rodrigo?” Sophia asked. “Perhaps you could come with us?”

  Her question was addressed to Rodrigo, but her gaze was on Phillip. He longed to return to the ball, to ask Sophia to dance. He imagined his hand on her waist as he led her through the steps. Her hand in his hand. Drawing her close …

  He opened his mouth, only to feel Rodrigo tread upon his foot, warning him to be silent.

  “I will join you later, Your Highness,” said Rodrigo. “I have offered to show His Grace the way back to his chambers.”

  Sophia smiled in understanding, as evidenced by the fact that she made it a point to extend her hand to Phillip.

  “Thank you for your help with Bandit, Your Grace.”

  Aware that the countess was keenly observing him, Phillip barely touched Sophia’s hand to his lips. He was startled to feel her hand linger in his. A faint blue glow emanated from her fingers. He felt a pleasant tingling sensation on his palm.

  Sophia smiled again. Bidding good night to Rodrigo, she left with the countess. Phillip watched her until she was lost to his sight and still he stood transfixed. He felt again the tingling sensation in his palm and looked down at his hand. He was surprised to see a faint mark in the shape of a tiny trefoil knot. He frowned, puzzled.

  “You are very fortunate, Your Grace,” Rodrigo observed. “Her Highness has given you a Trundler good-luck charm.”

  Phillip flushed and hastily closed his fingers over his palm.

  “Sophia must have learned that spell from a Trundler friend of ours,” Rodrigo continued. “Gythe gave me one, as well. Certainly I have led a charmed life ever since. I wish the same for you.”

  Rodrigo exhibited his palm bearing the identical knot, then said,
“May I give you a warning, Your Grace?”

  Phillip didn’t need another warning this night.

  “The hour is late—” he began.

  Rodrigo ignored him. “The countess is very close to Sophia and extremely protective of her. Sophia is devoted to the countess. The two of them were captured by Bottom Dwellers and went through a very bad time together. Sophia would do anything for the countess.”

  “Such as agreeing to marry Thomas,” said Phillip. He spoke before he thought and regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth, for Rodrigo was regarding him with sympathy.

  “Her brother, the king, promised Sophia that she would not have to marry anyone she did not love. Prince Thomas is handsome, brave and bold and, by all accounts, an estimable young man,” said Rodrigo. “Are these accounts of him accurate?”

  “Thomas is the best man I know,” Phillip affirmed without hesitation.

  “Prince Thomas is to be the future king of Freya,” Rodrigo continued. “King Renaud hopes the marriage will ensure peace between the two countries for generations to come. Princess Sophia has been raised in the belief that it is her duty to serve her country. She spoke well of the prince after their first meeting. If she does not love him now, she could grow to love him. How does your friend feel about her?”

  “He speaks well of her,” said Phillip. He did not add that Thomas could grow to love her. He thought of Kate and the words stuck in his throat. He was aware of Rodrigo keenly observing him. “If you could show me the way to my room, I must rise early in the morning, my lord—”

  “Ah, I see,” said Rodrigo, looking wise. “His Highness is in love with someone else.”

  Phillip was startled. “I did not say that, my lord!”

  “You didn’t need to say it, Your Grace,” said Rodrigo with a smile. “I am an expert in les affaires de coeur. Ask anyone.”

  He drew a watch from his pocket and glanced at it. “Dear me, look at the time.”

  “I am keeping you from the ball, my lord,” said Phillip. “I will find a servant.”

  “If I return to the ball, the Countess de Marjolaine will gut me and grill me like a trout,” said Rodrigo. “Besides, I have another engagement not far from your chambers.”

  Rodrigo enlivened their journey through the palace with an account of the scandalous doings of the noble lords and ladies of the Rosian royal court under the reign of the late King Alaric.

  “All that has come to an end under the reign of King Renaud,” Rodrigo added with a sigh. “We live a dull, staid life these days, devoid of charm.”

  He stopped outside a door. “I must leave you now, Your Grace. Continue down this hall. When you reach the end, turn to your left. Your chambers will be the third door on the right.”

  Phillip thanked him, expressed his pleasure in meeting him, and proceeded down the hall. As he was leaving, he heard Rodrigo softly knock three times. The door opened and a woman’s hand, sparkling with jewels, reached out to draw him inside. The door shut behind them.

  “So much for a dull, staid life,” Phillip said to himself, smiling.

  He eventually found his room, though not without difficulty, for he was thinking of Sophia and not watching where he was going. He made a wrong turn and ended up in one of the towers, where he wandered about until a servant took pity on him and guided him back.

  Inside his room, Phillip poured himself a glass of brandy and sat in his chair, staring at the tiny Trundler knot on his hand and remembering every word Sophia had said, every touch, every smile. He had no idea of the time, but sat wrapped in pleasant musings until he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Before he could say, “Come in,” Thomas flung open the door and strode inside.

  “I’ll take one of those,” he said, indicating the brandy. “Thank you for abandoning me, by the way.”

  “I am sorry,” Phillip said, pouring the brandy and bringing it to his friend. “I wasn’t feeling well—”

  “I am not surprised. After gobbling all those meringues,” said Thomas, sitting down in a chair.

  Phillip stared at him in astonishment. “How do you know about that?”

  “The princess told me all about your escapades,” Thomas said, grinning. “Her tale of your adventures carried us through an entire quadrille and halfway into a minuet. She seems quite taken with you. She talked of nothing else.”

  Phillip felt his face burn. “Her little dog … And then there was the chocolate on her dress…”

  Thomas laughed. “You should see your face! Do not worry, Pip, I am not going to challenge you to a duel over her affections. If I cannot love her, I am glad you do. She and I will have something to talk about on our wedding night.”

  “That’s not funny,” said Phillip.

  “You are right, it isn’t,” Thomas said. Sipping the brandy, he added in somber tones, “We are in one hell of a predicament, my friend. I am smitten with a pirate. You are yearning after the woman I am to marry—”

  “—and as if we didn’t have problems enough, there is the Countess de Marjolaine,” Phillip said.

  “Good God, Pip, have you stolen her heart, as well?” Thomas asked.

  “Hardly,” said Phillip. He went on to describe his meeting with the countess. “She knows about me and Sir Henry. In fact, I had the distinct impression she knows more about me than I know about myself.”

  “Ah, that would explain why she lectured me on the need for a king to choose his friends wisely,” said Thomas. “I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. As I see, there is only one thing to be done, Pip.”

  “Throw ourselves off the parapet?” Phillip suggested.

  “We would only create a gruesome mess that would be very disagreeable for the servants to have to clean up,” said Thomas. “Besides, we have promised to join the Royal Navy on the morrow—or rather this morning—and while you have seen the Aligoes, I have not. I require you to show me around. I particularly want to visit the Perky Parrot.”

  “You know Kate will not be there, Tom,” said Phillip, growing serious. “She has moved to Freya.”

  “I know,” said Thomas, downcast. He added with a shrug, “Still, one can always hope.”

  Phillip poured them each another brandy, then raised his glass. “Then let us drink to hope. As forlorn as it may be.”

  “To hope,” said Thomas raising his glass. He added with a smile, “And to friendship.”

  “To friendship,” said Phillip.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Olaf had written to Kate that he was staying in a rooming house in Barwich. Kate thought back to the first time she had returned to her childhood home. She had been afraid that people would recognize her, and she had covered her face with a veil. She did not bother with the veil this trip. If people recognized her as Rose Gascoyne’s daughter, so be it.

  She walked the streets, self-conscious at first, wearing the green silk dress and new green hat. No one knew her; no one spoke to her. Kate began to wonder if anyone even remembered her mother. Of if they did, if they cared. Why should they? Kate asked herself. The Gascoyne family did nothing for these people except rack up debt. I will change all that. Someday I will come into town, lady of the manor, and people will doff their hats and smile and say, “Good day to you, Lady Katherine.”

  Her pleasant dreams carried her to the rooming house, but Olaf was not there. He had moved out. Kate was leaving, baffled, when she heard someone shouting from a tavern across the street.

  “As I live and breathe! Look, boys! It’s Captain Kate in a dress!”

  “Marco!” Kate said, astonished. “What are you doing here?”

  The tavern was known as Pete’s Ale House. Kate hurried across the street, glad to see her friends, but wondering why they were in Barwich.

  “How are the repairs coming to Victorie?” Kate asked worriedly, sitting down with them. “Olaf wrote that he had questions for me.”

  Marco and his friends exchanged glances.

  “The work is slo
w, Captain,” Marco said, shaking his head. “Very slow.”

  Kate was disappointed. “I had hoped to set sail soon.”

  Marco sighed deeply. “You better talk to Olaf.”

  “I want to, but I can’t find him,” said Kate. She was growing alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

  Marco winked at his friends. “Come with us, Captain.”

  Mystified, Kate accompanied Marco and the grinning crew to the Barwich harbor. The sun was setting, the west streaked with orange and yellow flame. He pointed to a ship, riding at anchor, her yardarms and rigging silhouetted against the glowing sky. Kate recognized the Victorie.

  “My ship!” she gasped. “What is she doing here?”

  “We finished work a week ahead of schedule. Olaf wanted to surprise you and he sent out the word. We set sail in her the day before yesterday,” said Marco. “She handled well, only a few minor problems, and Olaf says those can be easily solved. She will soon be ready to venture out into the Breath. Do you know where we are bound? Has Sir Henry told you?”

  Kate shook her head. She should probably return to Haever to deliver the good news in person, but the memory of Sir Henry’s livid face and those cold, burning eyes still unsettled her.

  “I will write to let him know that Victorie is ready to sail,” said Kate. “We should hear back from him soon with our orders. And we need to bring our crew up to full complement. Where is Olaf?”

  “He moved his gear on board the ship,” said Marco. “Says it feels more like home.”

  Olaf was waiting for her on board Victorie. He had the rest of the crew lined up to greet her. They piped her on board, saluted, and then cheered. She looked around her ship—her ship! The words filled her with pride.

  Olaf gave her a tour of Victorie, proudly pointing out all the features, from the cannons with their enhanced magical constructs to the lift tanks that used the liquid form of the Breath. The workers and crafters had strengthened Dalgren’s “perch” on the stern, reinforced the protecting magic on the hull, and even installed a modern stove in the galley.

  “She is as good as new,” said Kate, her eyes dimming with tears.

  “She is better than new, Katydid!” Olaf said.