Part 8 (1/2)
”Captain Golias, I shall emphasize: nothing granted for nothing done. 'Tis required to do real damage, to face true opposition.”
”I'm being used as a cat's-paw, then, and I don't like it.”
”There's no need to engage; indeed 'twere counter to the purpose. Ride and harry.”
”Decoying. Decoying. They'll be after me pretty d.a.m.n quick.”
”An it please you, take Vilamar for the winter,” said the man, shrugging. ”Catch them by surprise, and you're well-set for a long siege.”
Golias studied him: aquiline nose, elegant short beard, tanned face, callused hands clearly accustomed to lifting more than dice; yet his speech was of the Court, the old Court of Panurgus's days, and his arrogance fit his speech. The captain was perturbed by his inability to place the man's face in memory, and a p.r.i.c.kling consciousness that the other was not what he seemed made Golias cautious.
”This sounds like a load of s.h.i.+t to me, and I'm not touching it without hearing the full story first,” said the captain. ”From the man who's hiring.” He was beginning to guess who the employer might be: there were few n.o.bles alive with a long purse and a long grudge who could locate the captain in his chosen refuge.
”You may hear it from me, but if you refuse the commission afterward . . .” The dark man's voice dropped ominously.
”Oh?” said the captain softly.
”Aye,” said the other.
They stared at one another.
”So why have someone attack Preszheanea? Grudge?” tried the captain.
”Of a sort.”
”Against someone specific?”
The dark man's eyes were low-lidded, and they watched $, the captain's hands. He lowered his head slightly. f; ”Some Court feud,” speculated the captain.
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”To trash the place and leave,” said the captain in an undertone.
The other smiled slightly. ”In a manner of speaking.” ”Preszheanea specifically? Vilamar in particular?” ”Ere you'll know more, we'll discuss the contract.” The captain nodded. ”You know my usual terms. Nothing usual in this job. Four times my usual rate for it, considering the disadvantages.”
”I'm prepared to offer double your usual terms. The sole unusual clause would be that you'll continue your ... efforts until you receive word to stop. There is no other object.” ”And surrender? Three times my usual, then.” ”Done,” said the other, his voice ringing through Golias for a moment. ”Nay, to withdraw to safety and there wait. Tis understood that you may not be in position to do so at once, but must do so as soon as 'tis feasible.”
”For example, hole up in Vilamar or one of the other little cities.”
”An it please you.”
”Triple pay for this picnic. My, my. This is an expensive feud.”
The dark man's left eyebrow flicked up and down. ”Indeed.”
”You're saying, you want me and my men to head into northeastern Landuc and do as much damage there as we can until we receive orders from your boss to stop?” ”In summary, that's correct.” ”Pillage, burn crops, violate shrines-” ”As it please you. Those are the usual activities of an attacking army.”
”I could do a lot better with a goal.” ”There may be further word of ends, later. You are the means.”
”And the pay schedule? With no clear destination . . .” ”This quarter in advance. Thereafter, you'll be paid for the coming quarter on the first.”
R Sorcerer and a gentleman 83.”My, my. Fringe benefits?”
The dark man smiled. ”They're what you make of 'em.”
Captain Golias chuckled, ”And transportation? Just how are we supposed to get back to Landuc from here, my friend?” he asked, his smile disappearing, leaning forward. ”It's a long, hard Road.”
”I believe you can arrange that yourself, as you arranged your transport here,” said the dark man quietly.
The captain's eyes narrowed. He considered taking exception, and reconsidered. Triple pay. There was no point losing the contract, and he could indeed arrange his own transportation from the Eddy-world to Landuc.
”Your men will follow you?”
”Oh, yeah. The hard part will be convincing them the job's for real.” The captain tipped the dice, which had sat idle several minutes, over and over on the table with his fingertip. ”Your boss wouldn't mind,” he asked, ”if I used the opportunity to get a little personal business out of the way, I take it?”
”So long as it interfered nowise with his own works and purposes.”
His. Bulls.h.i.+t, thought the captain. With a closed, pleased expression, the captain nodded a few times and then smiled gradually. ”You've got yourself a deal.”
DEWAR STOOD ON THE BALCONY OUTSIDE his bedchamber in the castle of Champlys, looking down. He was a small distance back from the Hchened bal.u.s.trade, so that he was not obviously looking at the couple on another balcony one floor below him; he hadn't intended to do so when he came out for a breath of air before leaving the provincially comfortable chamber where he had spent the night. But the sunlight glinting offOttaviano's reddish-blond hair and the sparkling sound of Lunete's laughter had drawn his notice, and he wanted to study them in this unguarded moment.
84.'E&zaBtth Sorcerer and a (jentkman 85.Ottaviano wore a purple cloak today, gold -bordered. His back was to Dewar; he leaned over the Countess of Lys, who was seated with her breakfast before her on a low table. The Countess wore turquoise and red. Dewar could see no servants with her. She was laughing at something he had said, shaking her head, now shaking her finger too. Together, they made a colorful splash on the sober old grey stone balcony.
Before she looked up and saw him, Dewar stepped back inside. The Countess's laughter bubbled to a halt, and the songs of the birds in the courtyard below were audible again. Dewar folded his arms and looked up at the blue, blue sky revealed by the pa.s.sing of the night's rain, considering what he would do now; go on his sorcerer's business alone, or pause here in this pleasant place, Lys, and dance at a wedding.
The Countess, Lunete, left the balcony after her breakfast. Though the day was pleasant, the weather was still cool for lingering outdoors once the sun had moved away from that side of the building, and at any rate she had business to attend to. Ottaviano, with her authorization, was working with Lys's Marshal to organize an army to oppose Ocher, who had paused to collect a larger force. She had sent the announcement of her betrothal out with the city's criers that morning, and to do so had given Lunete a delicious thrill. There was no turning back now. Once everyone knew, there was no way to change it.
Thinking of that thrill, smiling to herself, she walked to the Fiscor's office with Laudine, her maid, and went in.
The first clerk who sat at a high stool in the Fiscor's office was also the one who answered the door, ran errands, and announced visitors to the Fiscor when he was in his office. Now he wrote busily in a ledger while the Countess's dark little maid awaited her lady's pleasure on a bench by the door, turning her fan around and around in her fingers and looking at the three clerks, one after the other, from beneath her lashes. From time to time, the first clerk, who was closest to her, would feel her gaze on him and just twice he lifted his own eyes to meet hers for a fleeting instant. She smiled, each time. He blotted his book, each time.
The Fiscor spent the morning reviewing certain accounts with the Countess, who wished to be a.s.sured that the funds she and Ottaviano antic.i.p.ated needing would be available at once. She gave directions for getting more cash-for what, she did not say, save that there would shortly be demand. Although she was not yet of age, the Fiscor had heard the announcement of the upcoming wedding, and he had decided that, legal or not, the Countess's word was law.
”I am thirty-six days from majority,” the Countess said to him as she rose to take her leave.
The Fiscor nodded.
”I know that it is not lawful for me to command my own affairs yet.”
The Fiscor smiled. ”Your Grace,” he said, ”I have lived within the law all my life. If living within the law now were possible, I would. However, I cannot, in good conscience, do so. And in the end, a man's own conscience judges him more harshly than any monarch can.”
Lunete, who had meant to offer him an opportunity to resign and leave Lys if he wished, smiled. ”Thank you, Sir Matteus.”
He smiled also, embarra.s.sed. ”Although your guardian was appointed by the Crown, Your Grace, I was appointed by your late father. I consider myself his humblest servant, and yours.” He bowed deeply.
”Thank you, Sir Matteus,” she said again, softly. ”May the Well favor your loyalty. Good day. Please keep me informed about the money.”
”Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed again and opened the door for her. She left his office and the first clerk hopped down and opened the outer door for her, bowing deeply. Her maid swept out behind her.
The Fiscor's offices were in a relatively recently-built black-and-white tiled corridor, which had a shallow gallery on either side where there were benches. Winter tapestries still hung between the galleries' high, narrow windows. The pillars were spirally striped black and white, and the tapes- 86 -^ 'Elizabeth 'Wiiiey tries were mostly in shades of red: an outdated fas.h.i.+on since the death of King Panurgus, but homely to the Countess's eye. She started down the corridor, meaning to go to her own rooms and send for certain burgesses of the city to inform them in person as to her intention of marriage and the probable consequences.
She paused, however, seeing a tall man in blue-green and green-blue standing with his back to her studying one of the tapestries in the right-hand gallery. He turned and smiled frankly, then approached her and bowed.