Part 24 (1/2)
”Don't know, ma'am. Just following his lords.h.i.+p's orders. Seemed very keen about it, he was.”
”Has Lord Cadmus done anything wrong?”
Yes, have I done anything wrong?
”Wouldn't know, ma'am. We was just called to his lords.h.i.+p's Black Room and told what to do.”
The Black Room . . . something really awful had happened there. . . .
”Lord Cadmus?”
She was addressing him now. Who was-oh, yes, Velma, that dancer friend of the divine Filima.
Stunning girl, just not his type. Needed to have more money. Still, she was very easy on the eye. Mightas well be gallant to her, maybe she'd turn out to be an eccentric heiress run away from her wealthy family to be in the circus. Cadmus managed to straighten, then swayed into a droopy bow. Not his finest effort, he critically chided himself, particularly when he couldn't haul back up again. It put her very finely shaped b.r.e.a.s.t.s within his immediate field of view, though, so he had nothing else to complain about.
”Cadmus? Are you drunk?”
He discovered he could speak. Good show. ”F-f-far from it, my lady. Deuced tired, though. P'rhaps if you could direct me to a guest room. I'd be uncommonly grateful for a nice lie-down.”
She bent to peer at him, then felt his forehead. ”My gawds, you're cold as ice!”
Now that she'd mentioned it, he was a trifle chilled. Her hand was lovely and warm, though. He sighed and leaned into her touch, but overbalanced and the two chaps next to him made themselves useful by keeping him afoot.
”Take him in here, Captain,” said Velma, pointing someplace.
”Sorry, ma'am, we're under orders.”
”He's sick and in need of help. I'm sure Lord Anton won't mind a little detour.”
The captain hesitated.
”Oh, do bring him, Captain, he's obviously in no condition to escape.”
”No, ma'am, but that's not the point. When the overduke gives an order it's my duty to obey.”
”I don't question that, I'm just saying do it ten minutes from now. Do bring Lord Cadmus in here and ring the house bell for the doctor.”
More hesitation. Velma not having any actual authority was the problem. Now if she had rank or was more than Anton's girlfriend that would make a difference. On the other hand, Anton had a (usually) lenient manner about him, was known to be a kind man, and positively doted on the lady. She wasn't being unreasonable, and it did help that she was pretty. Cadmus hoped she would win. He wanted to get to know her better. She could help him with his conquest of Filima.
Filima . . . there was some sort of trouble connected with her. Had to do with somebody or other she'd been married to . . .
”In here,” Velma ordered. ”Please?” Stern but charming about it.
Captain Rockbush yielded. Couldn't blame him. Few men would be able to hold out for long against her eyes. Cadmus found himself being half carried into one of the many palace parlors. A nice one with lots of comfy chairs. They let him lie out on a long settee. Mmm. Velvet covering. Very soft. Now if he could just shut his eyes for a little he'd sleep off this not-hangover and sort the rest out in the morning.
”Cadmus?”
d.a.m.n, she was slapping his face and shaking him awake. What was it with women that they absolutely could not stand to let a sleeping man sleep? ”Yes? Ad yer serv'ce, lady. What d'ye need?” He'd be politeif it killed him.
There was some sort of trouble involving killing, too. Was it that wizard he'd planned to skewer earlier today? No, he'd changed his mind about him. Had gone back to Burkus House to dress for dinner with the overduke.
”Wake up, man, and tell me what happened in Anton's Black Room. You two were going to try an experiment.”
”We were?” When did he go to the palace? He'd just been up in his room choosing clothes for the evening, antic.i.p.ating an overnight stay. He was going to make a quick call on Filima so she could see how splendid he looked in his dress clothes on his charger, off to see the overduke himself about high and mighty matters. That would have to impress her. Cadmus had been undecided about whether or not to wear his great chain with-no, of course he'd rejected the heavy gold and gone with the black pearl . . . um . . . and then something had interrupted. . . .
”Yes, you two went up there not half an hour ago. Why does Anton suddenly want you in the dungeon?”
Velma's urgent voice yanked him into the present.
”Oh, it's not Anton, but Botello who wants me there.” Good gawds, what was he on about?
Velma asked the very same question, then urged Rockbush to ring for the doctor again and to hurry.
”What do you mean about Lord Botello? He's dead.”
”Only bodily displaced,” Cadmus corrected. He winced, vaguely recalling an evil memory of getting psychically shocked by a not-so-dead man whose present residence was h.e.l.l. Pity the b.a.s.t.a.r.d couldn't stay there. Hadn't stayed there. Leaping about like a locust he was. And as hungry. ”He's being very difficult about it, too. Wish he'd leave me alone.”
”Who? Anton or Botello?”
”Both. Though it's mostly Botello. You haven't any cold mint tea have you? Dinner was lovely, but left me rather too full-”
”What are you talking about, Cadmus?”
”Mint tea. Good for the belly-I mean digestion. I do beg your pardon. Didn't mean to go all vulgar. Do say you'll forgive me.”
”Delirious?” suggested Captain Rockbush somewhere above him. ”It's that or drunk and he don't smell drunk. More like rotten eggs.”
”You got that, too?” Velma again. ”It's all over his clothes.”
Sweet of her to be so concerned about his scent, especially since it wasn't very pleasant. Cadmus really must send her some flowers or compose a modest poem to show his grat.i.tude. Nothing too elaborate, mustn't give the overduke cause for jealousy or Filima the idea that she had been displaced.
Displaced . . . now Filima's husband was quite another matter on that topic. But Botello wasn't her husband now that he was-for all practical purposes on this side of Reality-dead. The mourners stuffed his body in the Darmo crypt, had a drink to his memory, and that should have been the end of thebusiness, but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d just couldn't leave well enough alone. He should stay decently dead and let his dear widow move on with her life. If she was called his widow, what was Botello's designation of relation to her now? Was there a name for it besides ”the deceased”? Might make for an interesting conversation some rainy evening. Just not with Filima.
”Cadmus!”
More shaking.
”Yes, m'lady, right here, at yer serv'ce.”
”What's that rotten egg smell?”
Mmm? Was that a trick question? Or were they playing Riddle or Diddle? He always liked the game.
Usually won.
”Doctor, thank goodness!”
Someone else had joined the party. Cadmus hoped to now be excused from the gaming circle so he could nap, but it was not to be. He found himself being poked, thumped, his heart listened to, his eyelids pried open, and his ears a.s.saulted with questions. Shouted questions.