Part 44 (1/2)

Sir Erls, Chancellor of State and one of Casmir's most trusted advisers, shortly entered the hall: a small sharp-eyed sharp featured person of middle age, with fine silver hair and pale ivory skin. Casmir had no great liking for the fastidious Sir Erls. However, Sir Erls served him with punctilious efficiency, and Casmir ignored all else.

Casmir indicated a chair; Sir Erls, after a stiff bow, seated himself. Casmir asked: ”What do you know of Sir Cory, who rests in the Peinhador?”

Sir Erls spoke with instant facility, as if he had expected the question. ”Cory is second son to Sir Claunay of Falonges, now dead. The first son, Sir Camwyd, took the estate, which is to the north of Western Province in the Troagh, close under the Ulf border. Cory could not adapt to the plight of the second son, and tried to murder Sir Camwyd. During the night a dog howled; Sir Camwyd was wakeful and the deed was aborted. Cory became a fugitive, then an outlaw. He ranged the Troagh and conducted ambushes along Old Street. He was captured by Duke Ambryl, who would have hanged him out of hand had not Cory declared himself one of Your Majesty's secret agents. Ambryl stayed his hand and sent Cory here for your own disposition. He is said to be a person of good address, if a black- hearted scoundrel, ripe for Zerling's axe. That is the sum of my knowledge.”

”Perhaps Sir Cory used a premonition after all,” said Casmir. ”Have him brought here at once.”

”As Your Majesty commands.” Sir Ens' voice was carefully toneless. He left the hall. In due course a pair of jailers brought Cory of Falonges into the hall, with chains at his wrists and a rope around his neck.

Casmir inspected Cory with cool interest. Cory was of middle stature, strong and agile, with a stocky torso, long sinewy arms and legs. His complexion was sallow, his hair dark, his features heavy and hard. He wore the garments in which he had been captured; originally of good quality, they were now torn and bedraggled and stank abominably of the dungeon. Nevertheless he returned King Casmir's inspection with incurious composure: alive and alert but resigned to his fate.

The jailers tied one end of the rope to a table leg, so that Cory might not spring unexpectedly upon King Casmir, then, at Casmir's nod, they retired from the hall.

Casmir spoke in an even voice: ”You informed Duke Ambryl that you worked in my secret service.”

Cony gave a nod of the head. ”So I did, Your Highness.”

”Was not that a bold remark to make?”

”Under the circ.u.mstances, I prefer to think it an inspiration of the moment. It illuminates my resourceful intelligence and indicates my desire to put myself and my skills at your service.”

Casmir smiled his cold smile. ”You had not previously made these ambitions clear.”

”True, Sire! I have postponed the act too long, and now you discover me in shackles, to my shame.”

”Shame for your crimes, or shame for your failure?”

”I can only say, Sire, that I am not accustomed to failure.”

”Ha! That, at least, is a quality which I admire. Now then, as to employment in my service: it may be a game you shall play in earnest.”

”Willingly, Sire, since the work would seem to reprieve me from dungeon and axe.”

”That is the case,” said Casmir. ”You are evidently both clever and unscrupulous; these are qualities which I often find valuable. If you succeed in the work I am about to propose, you shall not only have earned your amnesty but also a substantial reward.”

Sir Cory bowed. ”Your Majesty, without hesitation I commit myself to your mission.”

Casmir nodded. ”Let us be clear at the outset. If you betray me, I will hunt you down with all my resources and bring you back to the Peinhador.”

Again Sir Cory bowed. ”Sire, as a realist I would expect nothing else. Tell me only what I must do.”

”The deed is simple enough. You must kill King Aillas of Troicinet, Dascinet and the Ulflands. He is now at sea with his navy, but you will presently find him at Doun Darnic, in South Ulfiand. I must not be implicated in the work.”

Cory compressed his lips and his eyes glittered in the torch light. ”It is a delicate task, but not beyond my skill.”

”That is all for tonight. Tomorrow we will speak again. Guards!”

The jailers entered the room. ”Take Sir Cory back to the Peinhador; allow him to bathe, provide him fresh garments, feed him as he chooses and house him securely on the first level.”

”As you wish, Sire. Come along, dog's-body.”