by David Drake
“No,” I said. “But it’s really important that I talk with Lord Baran.”
I expected the servant who’d greeted me to send the boy lurking behind a sideboard displaying plate, but instead he trotted up the big staircase himself. He was brisker than I’d expected in somebody so chubby. I looked around at the furnishings while other servants stared at me silently. I was glad Baga had changed clothes after all.
There were two sets of deer horns mounted on the wall beside the staircase, both of them big, and over the transom itself was a huge pair—twelve feet across. Those were broad and shovel-shaped, like no antlers I’d ever seen before.
“Lord Pal?” called someone called from the top of the stairs—Lord Baran, when I looked up. “Come up if you must see me. I don’t believe we’ve met, have we?”
“No sir,” I said. I climbed the stairs, waiting to speak more till I’d reached the top. With Baran was a Champion whom I’d seen but didn’t know by name.
“Lord Baran?” I said. Both Champions were bigger than I was. Baran himself was at least six feet six, bigger even than Clain. “My business is private. I’d appreciate a few words with you alone.”
“Private about what?” Baran said. I won’t say he growled, but I’ve sure heard friendlier voices.
I was already standing as straight as I could. “Sir,” I said. “About your charges regarding Lady Jolene.”
“Well, I didn’t expect that,” Baran said. His voice was friendly enough, but from his face he was thinking about pulling my head off. He looked at his companion. “Did you, Monroe?”
“Throw him out,” Monroe said. He looked at me like I was something he was about to wipe off his shoe.
“No, we’ll listen to him,” Baran said. “Kid, you say what you’ve got to say here and now, or I’ll see if I can toss you through the front door from up here. If I miss the first time, I’ll keep trying till I get it right. Okay?”
“Sir,” I said. This was a bad spot, but I hadn’t expected it to be a good one. The only choice was to bull on through.
“Lady Jolene is Lord Clain’s mistress,” I said. There were probably a dozen servants listening besides the other Champion, but there was no help for it. I didn’t suppose it was going to surprise anybody. “One of Jolene’s attendants, Lady Ziga, had offered herself to Clain and been refused. In jealousy, Ziga attempted to poison Jolene. Jolene passed the poisoned wine on to you in complete innocence.”
I swallowed. “I’m not defending Jolene’s behavior,” I said. “But she didn’t try to kill you or anyone else. It was really bad luck. And Ziga’s hanged herself.”
“So I guess I ought to drop my prosecution because the slut is completely innocent, is that it?” Baran said, still quiet.
“Jolene is innocent of trying to murder anybody,” I said. And she’s not a slut, I thought, but I didn’t say that. “So yes, you should drop your prosecution.”
I hope I sounded calm. I was looking Baran in the face as I spoke, and his expression would’ve been a good enough excuse for me to sound rattled.
“Are you really so stupid that you believe this pack of lies the slut came up with?” Baran shouted. “Or are you having it off with her yourself and that’s why you’re here? Sure, that’s it: it’s your mouth but it’s really Jolene’s pussy talking!”
“I’d’ve thought Jolene could find a better replacement for Clain than this wimp,” Monroe said. His expression hadn’t changed from the first time he looked at me. “Of course, I don’t guess she stops with one, right?”
“Sir,” I said to Monroe. “I’m not sexually involved with the Consort or with anyone else.”
I turned to Baran and said, “I hoped that if you learned the truth, you’d step back from a monstrous injustice. I still hope that.”
I’ve heard “Soft words turn away wrath,” but it’s never been true in what I’ve seen. Somebody who’s bellowing mad—or drunk, and they go together pretty regularly—isn’t going to listen to anything you say, quiet or not. They’re just hearing their own crazy anger. Still, I wouldn’t have to remember that I’d been a screaming madman myself.
“Well, you’re bloody wrong!” Baran said. “Tell your whore that if she can’t find somebody to meet me at the trial, I’ll have her burned alive! And if somebody’d done that sooner, maybe Gismonde wouldn’t be dead with froth on his lips, you hear?”
“I understand, Lord Baran,” I said. My voice was trembling but I doubt anybody but me noticed that. I started to turn but paused instead and added, “As for finding somebody to meet you at the trial, the Consort has already done that. I’ll be seeing you in two weeks time, sir.”
I went down the stairs, half expecting Baran and his buddy to come after me. They didn’t, and I made it out the door. Buck whined, but I was barely aware of him or Baga as we headed back to the castle.
I whispered, “I really want to win this one.”
* * *
“I’ve been studying your matches on the practice machines,” Guntram said as we stared at my weapon, lying on the worktable between us. “Baran’s equipment is simply more powerful than yours. It’s bulky and heavy, but that doesn’t handicap Baran because he’s very strong. I don’t think you’d be able to handle his gear for any length of time. Ah—I don’t mean to sound insulting.”
“I’m not insulted,” I said. I wasn’t seeing muddy swirls when I thought about the future, now. I was remembering Baran bellowing in my face—and having to bend down to do it because he was so bloody big. “I wouldn’t be insulted if you told me I couldn’t fly back to Beune right now by flapping my arms.”
Though that was looking more and more like the best idea I’d come up with yet.
“Well, I don’t think the situation—” Guntram said.
Somebody knocked on the door. I jumped. Nobody’d bothered us since I’d gotten back from Castle Ariel. Guntram hadn’t gotten a lot of visitors when I first came to Dun Add, but the new greeter out in the hall was about as good as an iron grating for keeping everybody away. Folks in Dun Add thought it was a demon, Baga said.
“Come in…?” Guntram called. I got up and headed for the door. I wasn’t sure the visitor would be able to hear through the thick panel.
The door opened before I got there. The man who stuck his head in was in his late thirties but already balding. He was one of the Makers in Louis’s stable, but I hadn’t ever heard his name.
“Master Guntram?” he said. “Master Louis sends his compliments and asks that Lord Pal visit him in his private chamber as soon as possible.”
The fellow spoke to Guntram, but when he’d finished speaking he nodded to me to show that he wasn’t ignoring that I was standing in front of him.
Guntram rose from his chair also. “Certainly, Brian,” he said. “We’ll be there at once. Did Louis say what he wanted us for?”
“Sir,” Brian said with a grimace. “I’m very sorry, very sorry, but my master wants to see Lord Pal alone. He’s sent all of us away for the rest of the afternoon. Truly, none of us have any idea why he’s done that. No idea.”
“Well, then I’d better be off,” I said. “Guntram, I’ll be back, well, when I’m back.”
“Lord Pal?” Brian said. “You remember where the Master’s chambers are, don’t you?”
“Sure,” I said, frowning. “Down one flight and right around two corners. But aren’t you coming with me, Master Brian?”
“Lord, I’m very sorry but I have orders not to come near the chambers until tomorrow morning,” Brian said. I didn’t doubt the truth of what he said, because he obviously wasn’t comfortable about it.
“Leave your weapon with me, Pal,” Guntram called. “I’ll get to work while you’re gone. That is, if you’re willing to do that?”
“I trust you, sir,” I said. I took out my shield and laid it beside the weapon. Light as it was, my tunic felt wrong without both of them in the pockets to balance each other. “I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life—”
M
ost recently, I’d agreed to fight Lord Baran.
“—but I’m not so dumb that I don’t trust you.”
I headed for the nearest staircase. Brian went the other way; deliberately, I suppose. The attendants at each cross-corridor weren’t there today. I didn’t know what was going on, but I wasn’t exactly worried. I would’ve been worried if I hadn’t had the fight with Baran on my mind.
I knocked on the door to Louis’s chambers. Nothing happened for a moment. I was wondering if I ought to knock again when Louis himself pulled the panel open.
“Come in, come in,” he said. I’d never known him to sound gracious; he didn’t now either. “I’m sorry about the secrecy, but we decided it was best.”
I stepped into the big workroom, which was just as empty as Brian had said. Artifacts—weapons and shields, all that I saw—lay on the tables in various stages of repair. At least one shield was being created from three pieces, none of which was big enough for me to imagine making anything useful out of it.
“Come into my private office,” Louis said. He saw where my eye had caught. He said, “Brian is showing off. It’s skilled work, but the result isn’t going to be better than we’d issue to the regular army. Still, I want my people to stretch themselves, and I hope next time Brian will do so in a more useful fashion.”
I followed Louis to his office at the far end, thinking of the image greeting people who approached Guntram’s door. Louis would never have built the doorman because he wouldn’t see any point in it.
There wasn’t any point, not really. I could never work with Louis.
We entered the private office. Two more chairs had been moved there, crowding the space a lot. The Leader stood in front of the one he’d just risen from.
“I’m glad you could make it, Lord Pal,” Jon said. “Sit down, won’t you?”
I took the seat he pointed to. As soon as I settled, I wondered if I was supposed to have waited until Jon himself was down. Nobody seemed to notice.
“I’m told you’re acting for Lady Jolene at her trial,” Jon said.
“Yes sir,” I said, suddenly feeling cold inside.
“I can’t have any public part in it,” Jon said. I’d thought Jolene had aged thirty years since I first saw her. So had her husband. “The justice of the Commonwealth has to go forward. The worst thing is that I be seen to intervene as a person and bring about an unjust result.”
“Sir,” I muttered. I was afraid now. If when I arrived on Dun Add, Jon had asked me not to get involved with his wife’s trial, I suppose I’d have obeyed. Jolene was nothing to me, and Lady May shouldn’t have been anything. I’d sworn to serve Jon and the Commonwealth, and I truly believed that anything Jon did, it was because he thought that was best for the Commonwealth.
But now I’d given my word. I wasn’t going to go back on that, no matter who I made angry.
“Unofficially, though…” Jon said. His eyes seemed to drill right through the front of my skull. “Is there any help we can give you? Louis and myself, that is.”
I didn’t know what to say. After a moment I realized that my mouth had opened; I shut it.
Jon didn’t notice. He was looking down into his clenched fists. To his hands he said, “The Commonwealth needs Lord Clain. Clain believes in the Commonwealth, believes in what we’re doing. It’s not just how strong he is as a warrior that lets me go on, it’s how strong his belief is.”
Louis was nodding. I could see the shape of his skull through his short blond hair.
“But the Commonwealth needs me too!” Jon said. “Maybe after we’ve got Mankind united it won’t, but it does now. And I need Jolene!”
He raised his hands to his face and then—may God help me!—he started crying.
I looked away. I’d never been so embarrassed in my life, not even when May was screaming abuse at me in the Consort’s Garden.
I said, “Sir, I’ll do the best I can.” I wasn’t sure the words had really come through my lips.
“I have the highest regard for my teacher Guntram’s skills,” Louis said. He leaned toward me, trying to ignore Jon the same as I was. “Even so, Lord Pal, I wonder if you’d mind my taking a look at your equipment?”
“Of course!” I said. “Sir, Guntram’d be the first one to say that there’s nobody alive who can do more with fighting equipment than you can. Only—”
I didn’t know how to say the next part, so I met Louis’s eyes and just said it. “The thing is, sir, Guntram knows me. If you said one thing and he said another, I’d probably go with him. I don’t mean to insult you.”
Louis gave me a slow smile. “I begin to think that Lady Jolene may survive this wretched business after all,” he said. “I’ll talk with my friend and mentor Guntram. We’ll see what we can come up with between us.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. The Leader had stopped snuffling, so I glanced at him, hoping that I could get out now.
Jon gave me a wan smile. “You have my prayers and best wishes, Lord Pal,” he said. “I’m sorry to have shown you the strain I’ve been feeling.”
“You have the whole Commonwealth on you, sir,” I said as I got up. I was deciding to take what Jon had said as an excuse to leave. “I’ll do my best.”
“Lord Pal?” said Jon, rising also. “Will you give me an honest answer if I ask you a question?”
If I’d been the sort who lied when it was handy to, I’d just have said, “Sure.” But I wasn’t, so I stood there a moment with my mouth open before I said, “Yes sir. If that’s what you want, sir.”
“Do you think I’m a fool to let this trial go ahead?” Jon said. “I could end it in a number of ways, as you must know.”
“Sir,” I said, nodding as I looked for words. The Leader was the most powerful person in the Commonwealth; the most powerful human being alive.
I took a deep breath. “Sir,” I said, “I’m a Maker. Not like Louis, not even like Master Brian, I guess, but I’m a Maker.”
The Leader nodded, but from his frown he didn’t see where I was going. Louis had no expression at all.
“Sir, you’re the Leader,” I said. “But if you tried to tell me how I should modify an artifact, I’d ignore you because you don’t know anything about what a Maker does. And I sure don’t know how to lead the Commonwealth.”
Both men grinned. It was the happiest I’d seen either of them since I came in.
* * *
I went back to Guntram’s room. I was feeling a lot better too, though I couldn’t really have told you why.
CHAPTER 34
Final Arrangements
When I got back to Guntram’s quarters the next day after sparring with Morseth on the jousting ground, the inhuman—and unreal—doorman said, “Good afternoon, Lord Pal. Master Guntram hopes you’ll go straight in, as he and Master Louis may be working when you arrive and unable to hear your knock.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said to the round-eyed image. No matter what it was, not a “thing” at all and for sure not a person, I’d still rather be polite. It didn’t cost anything.
I opened the door. Louis was just getting up. Guntram turned when the hinge squealed; he was standing beside the couch he worked on. My weapon lay on the table between the two Makers.
I took off the rig holding the gear I’d borrowed from Louis while the two Makers worked on mine. Morseth had beaten me once, but we drew the second match and I didn’t feel too bad about it. I still felt the clout Morseth had given my right wrist—at full power he’d have taken my hand off—but the healing couch would take care of the bruising. And it hadn’t kept me from facing him again right away and coming off better than I had before.
“How did the equipment perform?” Louis said. He looked groggy from his recent trance, but he was still thinking about his regular duties. I’d gone off to spar three hours earlier, and I suspected that both Makers had been under ever since I’d left.
“It’s heavier than I’m used to,” I said, “and that made me a bit slower than I sho
uld’ve been.” I massaged my wrist with the fingers of my left hand. “Once in particular. But it’s good gear, and the shield Brian put together is a lot better than you gave it credit for being, sir.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” said Louis, frowning. “The core elements hadn’t fused, and I wasn’t able to correct the problem when I went over it myself.”
“That was an advantage in a fight, sir,” I explained. “The portion of shield that takes the initial blow twists and sends the stroke into the parts beside it. Lord Morseth has very good equipment, and he was getting really frustrated.”
I grinned. Morseth being peeved had been an advantage to me also.
“The downside is that I didn’t know how the blow was going to turn me either, the way I would if it’d been a straight-on block,” I said. “I wouldn’t trade for my own shield, but once somebody got used to it he could do pretty well, I’ll bet.”
“This has something to do with the modifications we’ve made to your weapon,” Guntram said. “But perhaps you’d rather have something to eat rather than discuss it immediately?”
What I’d really have liked to do was to give my wrist an hour on the couch—it was throbbing worse and worse since I’d climbed the stairs—but I didn’t mind a little pain if I was going to learn how I might be able to face Lord Baran. These two men were the best hope in the human universe of my doing that. Which didn’t mean that they’d be enough.
“I’d love to hear what you’ve done,” I said, pulling a stool closer to the Makers’ benches. “I need to know.”
“We butchered it,” Louis said, grimly. He glared at the weapon. Around it sat flat trays of materials too finely divided for me to tell what they were.
Louis looked over at me again. “Guntram says you helped him fashion this,” he said. “You did a bloody good job. I couldn’t have bettered it on a good day, and now—”
He gave an angry shrug.
“We can rebuild it after the trial,” Guntram said to his former pupil. “We have to get Pal through the trial first, though.”
He turned to me and said, “Pal, you know that weapons can either thrust or slash. Most of them are biased toward thrusting, because it’s more effective.”
