Part 29 (2/2)

He stood and picked his way to the hut, avoiding loose stones and making as little disturbance in the world as he -could. Out of sight, a horse stamped and chewed.

Ottaviano stood beside the uncovered low doorway, listening. Light snoring. The arrow thrummed.

Great and glorious Well, was the sorcerer Prince simply stretched there asleep? Was he so smug as to think no one could follow him in his flight? Was it to be as easy as this?

Otto took a dagger in one hand, drew his sword quietly with the other, and stepped swiftly into the hut. He froze, 258.

tense and ready; the breathing of the occupant went on. His eyes grew accustomed to the dim interior; he saw a long shape on the ground, dark-m.u.f.fled, and in the light of the doorway a bandaged hand, blood-stained. Otto took two quick steps and lifted the dagger, bringing the pommel down hard.

Prince Herne saw the Baron of Ascolet first on his return to Gaston's camp. Prince Herne was still furious about Pros-pero's escape, and the Baron's empty-handed arrival set him off again.

”He ran fast and far,” Ottaviano said again and again. ”I lost him. I tried to find him, but I lost him again.” His grimy state and his horse's exhaustion - he had ridden hard to return from Malperdy, abused Lightfoot to make two Gates and the Road - attested to his story, and finally Herne, with a last snarl about useless jack-sprats, left him alone. Otto breathed a sigh of relief. He would tell them the truth, he fully intended to do so, but in his own time, when he'd rested and decided what the price of Prospero would be.

”Pay him no mind,” Prince Josquin said, coming up beside Otto as he pa.s.sed a tent.

”Your Highness. You heard - ”

”Herne and Fulgens share a temper, thus either has but half.”

”I didn't take it personally, sir. I've seen him blow up before.”

”Ah. He and Golias were at blows this morning, and not on the training ground.”

”Setting a good example, my lord?”

The Prince chuckled. ”c.o.c.k-fighting,” he said. ”I won two royals on it,”

”I want a bath, my lord,” Otto said, ”and a lot of food, and about twelve hours of peace and quiet. Think I'll get any of 'em?”

”Just pop round and say h.e.l.lo to the Marshal,” Prince Josquin advised him. ”We were going to have a briefing tonight, but he'll postpone it till tomorrow since you've returned. Good news?”

A Sorcerer and a gentleman 259.

”No news.”

”Bad news.”

”Right. Good news for Prospero, though.”

Prince Josquin's eyebrows went up. ”True. And bad news for somebody, certainly. -He's an amazing fellow. We can't work out where in the Well's bright worlds his army came from. Can't understand a word they say, and it's mutual.”

”I thought the Well granted the gift of tongues, my lord.”

”So did we, but this lot speak pure jabberish. d.a.m.ned frustrating. Their commander, Prospero's second, speaks a bit of Lannach, and he's getting testy. The Marshal hasn't admitted that we no longer have Prospero, you know. I'll lead your horse to the grooms with me; I'm going there myself. t.i.to! Take the Baron's horse.”

”Thank you, Your Highness. You're very kind.”

”Do enjoy your luncheon, Baron. Toodle-oo,” said the Prince Heir, and his squire led Lightfoot away behind him.

Ottaviano gazed after him. It was hard to figure Josquin. When was he acting? There was something serious to him; he was good in the field, good enough for the Marshal to trust him as much as Herne, but the flippant, foppish veneer was difficult to penetrate. Dewar liked him-in fact, they were panting after one another as discreetly as possible- but Ottaviano couldn't see what the sorcerer might find so intoxicating in the Prince Heir. Perhaps Dewar, who had refused Otto's laboriously-located wenches, wasn't interested in girls, despite his continual flirting with Lunete in Lys. More likely, Dewar was uninterested in men or women, which would be usual for a sorcerer, and simply enjoyed playing eye-games with the future ruler of the Empire.

The Baron of Ascolet made his way to the Marshal's headquarters. He was kept waiting a few minutes and then beckoned in by one of the squires, who was repairing a mail-coat when he wasn't minding the door.

”Good day, sir,” Otto said.

Prince Gaston nodded to him and nodded to a chair, the same Otto had occupied before. ”Hast been away,” he said.

260.

ttizaBetfi 'Wittey ”I went hunting. A good run, as they say in the chase, but no kill.”

”I did not think thou wouldst succeed, and I'd have ordered thee forgo it,” the Marshal said.

”I went without leave. I know. I thought it was worth the risk.” Ottaviano summarized the route he had followed after Prospero-truths and fictions. ”I lost him at Fiargate. How long was I gone?”

”One day. Twas quickly ridden. -There's a matter of weight I'd bring to light with thee.”

”Uh, Lys-”

”Thy sorcery.”

Ottaviano nodded, as if he'd expected it. ”I know a few tricks,” he said. ”Book-learning.”

They studied one another. Prince Gaston was obviously waiting for more. Ottaviano tried to tough it out and found the Fireduke's unwavering regard too harsh.

”That's about it,” he said. ”I'm not Dewar.”

”Clearly not,” Prince Gaston said, which felt vaguely like an insult. ”Yet hearsay claims 'twere needful thou attend initiation at the Well, ere thou couldst perform a Binding such as thou hast done.”

Otto felt his face redden against his will. He hadn't expected this; he had forgotten in the excitement of the hunt and capture. Prince Gaston wasn't one to let anything pa.s.s without at least letting it be known he had noticed.

”Dm,” he said.

”That's all,” the Prince said impa.s.sively. ”Go thou, eat and rest. We'll confer at the first hour o' morning. Tomorrow we're breaking camp.”

Ottaviano got up and got out of there, grateful for the Fireduke's mercy, and hastened to his tent without seeing anyone else of consequence. Soon he lay in bed, unable to rest despite being dead tired and stuffed with greasy cold mutton. He thought hard about Gaston.

He had just been warned, Ottaviano decided. The Marshal thought he was up to something. Gaston needed his cooperation for now, but any c.r.a.p from Ottaviano, and Gaston was going to come down hard on him. Ottaviano Sorcerer and a Qentleman 261.

had high-tailed it out of camp after Prospero and Dewar. That looked bad. He had done it without informing his commanding officer. That was bad. He had failed in his c.o.c.keyed mission, ostensibly. That meant he'd wasted time, which was bad too.

The Prince Marshal had let the Baron know, obliquely, that he did not trust Otto, that he knew there was something fishy going on, and that he did not want his war mucked up by another sorcerer.

Ah, s.h.i.+t, thought Otto, and rolled onto his stomach.

He thought of Malperdy, a severely-made fortress in As-colet, and smiled. The Marshal might think he'd wasted his time, but this time the Marshal was wrong. When the Baron of Ascolet showed what he had accomplished, Gaston would be surprised.

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