Arcanum (66 page)

Ullmann pursed his lips and started to count out the options on his fingers. “You could have them pressed. You could hold them for as long as you like: they might be valuable to the Bavarians, and useful if any of our spies get caught. You could torture them for what they know.”

“We know what they know, because Master Wess told them more or less everything.”

“I meant about Bavaria, but there’d be no way of knowing whether the information they give is accurate or not. They’ll tell us whatever they think we want to hear.” Ullmann held up another finger. “You could try and recruit them.”

“Oh?”

“Turncoats: traitors to their lord.”

“I know what it means. I just hadn’t thought of it. Carry on.”

“You could tell the Bavarians we have their spies, and ransom them. Or, of course, you could release them.”

“Or any number of those things together.” Felix studied the map in front of him and wondered just how accurate it was. The distance to München didn’t look that far at all. “Can I talk to them?”

“I … suppose so.” Ullmann frowned. “It’s not usual, my lord, for a prince to dirty himself with such things.”

“We left what was usual a while ago, Master Ullmann. Everything we do is different, so why not this?”

Ullmann shrugged. “They’re in the Hare Tower.”

“Tied?”

“Shackled to the wall, but their hands are free. We’re not animals, my lord.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want them pressed either, do you? Despite you almost dying trying to catch them.”

“I never mentioned that, my lord.”

“No. More accurate reports in future, Master Ullmann.”

Ullmann smiled ruefully.

“It’s not that they don’t deserve it, nor that, if any of my lads got caught in their lands, they wouldn’t get the same, but we need to know who sent them and why. What’s Leopold up to, and does he have designs on Carinthia? He could be as scared of us as we are worried about him.”

“We don’t have to be enemies,” said Felix, “though they might think otherwise. Which is why I want to talk to these spies. They don’t seem to be … I don’t know … very good spies. Perhaps they’re like ours, just people they’ve picked out of a line and told to do their best.”

Ullmann pushed his chair back. “Shall we try to find out, my lord?”

They left the solar and went down the stairs to the courtyard.

“One question, Master Ullmann. Do you know how to use your sword?”

Ullmann hesitated for a moment. “Enough to point the sharp end at my enemies.”

“I’ll train you myself. I’ll start a sword school right here, in the main courtyard. What I teach you, you can then teach to others. Every leader should be able to hold his own with a sword.”

“Like Mistress Morgenstern, you mean?”

Felix wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Sophia’s exploits had become increasingly unlikely the more times the tale was retold, whereas, first-hand, she made it sound as though men had simply thrown themselves onto her blade. That was more probable, he supposed, than her HaShem guiding her arm.

“If she wants to learn, then I’ll teach her too.”

The thought of her, bloodied spatha in her upraised fist, calling curses down on her foes and blessings on her friends … He shivered.

“My lord?”

“Doesn’t matter. Has there been anything from Master Büber?”

“No.” It was Ullmann’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Do you think he’s going to come back? I mean, really?”

“I don’t know. I think he’ll go and see the dwarves, but what happens after that? There’s nothing to stop him just keeping on going until he reaches the ocean.” Felix thought it would be a loss, but was well aware it was up to Peter Büber whether he turned around or not. The mountains and forests might call him home, or he might be so consumed with grief that he’d lose himself in some forgotten valley and never return. “I’m not sure I can order anyone to do anything; only hope that they choose to do what I say.”

“You have authority as Prince of Carinthia.”

“Yes, I know that.” Felix gazed up at Ullmann. “But if I don’t find it a good enough reason, I can’t expect others to. I’m only twelve, and I haven’t done anything yet: no one needs to fear me, and no one thinks me wise. The people don’t love me, either. They’re simply used to doing what the arse on the throne says, and we know what happens when they forget that.”

They were at the tower, and Ullmann put his hand on the door latch. “My lord, you shouldn’t dwell on such things.”

“What right have I to run not just your life, but those of people I’ve never even met and am never likely to? I could do what my father did: give power to the earls, and have them rule their little bit of Carinthia for me. But where are the earls at the moment? Mostly dead.” Felix kicked at the wall. “Outside of Juvavum, there’s been little trouble. The palatinate seems happy to run itself.”

“The people crave order, my lord. They know that if there’s no law, there’s no security. They won’t make plans for a harvest if they think someone else is going to steal it from them at spear-point.”

Felix stopped kicking and frowned. “That’s a good point, Master Ullmann. Open the door: let’s see these Bavarians.”

They made their way up the steps inside.

“We don’t have a name for the second man yet,” said Ullmann. “He’s not volunteering it, though I dare say we could beat it out of him, or Wiel.”

“We can call him whatever we like. It’s not like Wiel will have given us his real name,” said Felix. “How about Mr Spitzel?”

“That’s a good one, my lord. Spitzel it is, then.”

The jailer was perched on a stool outside the locked room. He wasn’t asleep, and even stood up when he heard them approach.

“Open up, man. The prince wants to interrogate the prisoners,” said Ullmann.

It wasn’t exactly what Felix had said. If anything, he wanted to see the faces of people who might be his enemy, even though he’d done nothing to them.

The guard took the key from around his neck and wrestled it into the lock, heaving it around until there was a satisfyingly heavy clunk. He peered through the bars in the door to check everything was still in order.

“The chains go halfway across the room, my lords. Stick close to this side, and the bastards won’t be able to get at you.” He heaved the door aside. “Up, up, you fuckers, the Prince of Carinthia is here.”

It was quite clear that neither man had come quietly. Black eyes, cut cheeks and chipped teeth were the order of the day. The man who Ullmann had bitten had a crude bandage on his leg. They looked up as the prince and Ullmann entered, but did not stand, a slight that enraged the jailer.

“Wait outside, good sir,” said Felix. “My chains around their ankles are enough of a sign of their submission.”

“The boy Carinthia,” snorted one.

“That’s Wiel,” whispered Ullmann.

“Good afternoon, Mr Wiel. Mr Spitzel.” It got a reaction from the other man, who pushed himself up to a more upright sitting position. “Are you being treated well?”

“Treated well?” Wiel leant closer, and the links tightened behind him. “Why are we here? You chase us, beat us and throw us in here, all for asking about the Simbach bridge.”

“So you deny you’re Bavarian spies then?” said Ullmann. “I suppose you didn’t try to run my lads down, Spitzel, or to knife one of us, Wiel? We didn’t find a sack of coin on you, worth far more than an honest messenger should be carrying?”

“It would be useful if you stopped denying it,” added Felix. “We know what you are. I want to talk to you so that I can better decide what to do with you.”

“You haven’t opened the pressing pit for us, then?” said Wiel, sitting back down. “I’m surprised.”

“I’m not my father.” Felix sat too, cross-legged on the floor, the Sword of Carinthia scraping across the stone. “Forget whatever he used to do. I’m my own man, and I make my own decisions.”

“Man? Man? You’re just a child. Does this long streak of piss with you have to hold your hand while you’re straining out the royal shit?”

One of the reasons why he’d sat down was so that it would be more of an effort to get up again. Felix managed to ignore him.

“Mr Spitzel. Yes, you. What do you say?”

“I think you’re going to be screwed like a tuppeny whore.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because you have nothing.” Spitzel stretched his leg uncomfortably, but still gave a little smile.

Felix steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees. “Tell me, Mr Spitzel: are all Bavarian spies as good as you two?”

Ullmann snorted at the man’s sour expression. “There you go, my lord. If we have nothing, they have even less. Old Leopold ran his kingdom into the ground long before the magic disappeared.”

“That’s true,” said Felix. “Not even enough coin to pay for a few spearmen. Ended up scrabbling around for coppers, taxing Carinthian bridges.”

“Leopold was a fucking idiot,” growled Wiel.

“Was? So he’s gone, has he?” Felix could see the point of this now, this testing of an opponent and seeing how much they’d give away. “Who’s in his place?”

“Shut up!” spat Spitzel at Wiel. “Shut up now!”

“One of the earls, then? Or has Bavaria fallen apart, and every fiefdom is for itself? The Earl of Simbach sent you, is that right?”

Wiel stayed white and tight-lipped.

“Answer the prince, you Bavarian cock-sucker,” said Ullmann. Felix looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “If you don’t mind, that is, my lord.”

Swearing like a stevedore hadn’t been in the prince’s lessons, although he’d picked up a few choice phrases from his father. Being around Ullmann was an education in itself.

Felix tapped his sword. “We’ll find out soon enough for ourselves, Mr Wiel. One thing that Carinthia hasn’t done is set earl against earl.”

“They’re all dead. That’s hardly a triumph,” said Spitzel. He reached down to scratch at his injured leg. “You’ll be joining them soon enough, princeling.”

Wiel wasn’t the senior partner. It was Spitzel. Interesting.

“So Simbach thinks it can take what it wants of Carinthian land and treasure? The last time we paid you a visit, you couldn’t even make a toll booth.”

Spitzel considered the insult. “You’re right, of course. No point in worrying about us. You may as well just let us go. A gesture of goodwill between neighbours.”

Ullmann stiffened. “Is that the same gesture you gave me with your fists, you pig-fucker?”

“You gave as good as you got.”

“You won’t be saying that when we burn Simbach to the ground and send all the prisoners as slaves to work in the salt mines.”

Felix rested his hand on Ullmann’s shin. “Steady, Master Ullmann. We don’t have to force them. Perhaps the people of Simbach would jump at the chance to earn a share of Carinthia’s good fortune.”

Wiel jerked on his chains. “We’re better than you. We’re just better than you. We’ve had to watch for centuries while you throw your weight around like a bloated boar with its head in our troughs, rooting up our crops and shitting on our floors, and all the time it’s been ‘the Order will come and get you’ if we stand up for ourselves. The Order has gone. No more hexmasters: you’re weak now, and we’re going to gut you like a fish.”

Felix made sure that Ullmann wasn’t going to jump in and try to silence Wiel, then asked: “When was the last time a Carinthian army invaded anyone? I know the answer to that, because I was made to learn it. Do you know?”

“You’ve always been there, right in our faces,” shouted Wiel. ‘Do what we say,’ you tell us, ‘or we’ll burn your houses and salt your land.’ You threaten us just by breathing.”

“A hundred and fifty years ago, and it was Wien, not Bavaria, and that was after they blocked trade on the Donau, which hurt Bavaria as much as it did us. We didn’t even sack Wien, just made it plain that we could.” Felix played a complicated rhythm with his fingertips. “I’ve every reason to hate the Order. Certainly more reason than you. But if you say we charge around like a bull in a field…”

“Boar, my lord.”

“Whichever. You’re wrong. If anything, the history I’ve learnt tells me we ignored everything that happened outside our borders because it didn’t make any difference to us. So why do you hate us? Bavaria has been better off for having Carinthia as a neighbour.”

Wiel breathed heavily, still straining against his iron chain. Spitzel roused himself and ordered the other man to sit back down.

“We hate you,” he said, “because you’ve never had to struggle, never had to try. Everything’s come easy to you Carinthians. Peace and the wealth to enjoy it are the only two things worth worrying about in life. When our harvests failed, or we were at war, or the Death came calling, you passed us like a beggar in the street. Now that you’re on the street with us, we’re not going to forget.”

Ullmann shook his head and walked out, and Felix unfolded his legs. “One of you hates us for interfering. The other hates us for leaving you alone. And you call
me
a child.”

He got up and dusted himself down. His shoulder was still sore, but it wasn’t too bad. He thought he might leave the sling off even if Sophia told him otherwise.

“Prince Felix?”

“Yes, Mr Spitzel?”

“Have you decided our fates yet?”

Felix rubbed his face and pinched at his nose. “No. It’d be easy enough just to have you pressed. That’s what I’m expected to do, and don’t think that my being twelve will save you from the stones. What could save you is that I’m not my father, or my grandfather, or his father either. Good day, gentlemen.”

His name was Thorsun Heavyhammer, in the usual dwarvish style that sounded more than slightly ridiculous to human ears. From Büber’s limited experience, Heavyhammer was a dwarves’ dwarf: dour when he wasn’t being grim, full of fate and doom.

Despite the thinness of the air, Heavyhammer kept up an almost continuous monologue. About how they’d make Farduzes by nightfall, unless something ate them first. About how the sky terrified him and the rocks oppressed him. About how, ultimately, his people would be forgotten in a cruel and uncaring surface world. After two days in his company, Büber was left contemplating murder to make at least that part of the dwarf’s wyrd come true.