Closer to the Chest (11 page)

A better look around showed him a group of slightly younger men playing at dice, and one of them bore a strong family resemblance to Lirelle and the beauteous Helane. He sauntered over, was recognized, and invited to join. Since the stakes were low, he did. After a few throws, one of the lot thought to introduce him. “Magnus, this is Hawken; his family just arrived at Court. Hawken, this is Magnus, who knows where to find the best of everything at a price that won't make our fathers swear and threaten to cut off our pocket-money.”

Magnus laughed, and gave Hawken a slight bow. Hawken,
who seemed to have remained a spectator at the dice-game smiled, but with an inquisitive look. “The shallowness of my own purse has forced me to become something of an expert in the study,” he said, with a faint hint of self-mockery.

Now he just needed to let things take their natural course. Sooner or later, this lot of lads were going to suggest a quick trip down to Flora's or one of the other houses of pleasure, and he wanted to see what Hawken's reaction to that was going to be. On the whole, this lot of young men were feckless; not ill-intentioned, but not reliable. And this trip would be to determine just how deep Hawken's pockets were, and how long his parental leash.

And right on schedule, as it became apparent that Hawken was not going to be one of the players, the suggestion came. Shortcuts of walking lanes between many of the manor houses on the Hill meant that Flora's and the Sickle Moon were both within walking distance, so off they went. Mags kept to the back of the group, and by dint of a few subtle signals, indicated to Hawken he should probably do the same.

“Where are we going?” Hawken said in an undertone, once the rest had gotten about five paces ahead of them.

“The Sickle Moon. It's a bawdy house, and I suspect my friends there are going to see how much of
their
pleasure they can get
you
to pay for,” Mags replied, with a cynical chuckle. “It's what they always do, see how much of a coney they can make any fellow that's new to Court, figuring that even if his Papa is not indulgent, he'll still have a plump purse that his parents anticipate will last him for some moons.”

Hawken licked his lips uneasily. “I . . . is my father likely to find out about this?”

“Not if you don't tell him,” Mags chuckled. “But if the lads empty your purse for you, he'll find that out soon enough.”

Mags could tell that Hawken was torn . . . on the one hand, women! On the other, the prospect that his new “friends” would impoverish him in a single afternoon.

And on the third hand . . .
:I think our friend has little to no experience with the fair sex,:
Dallen observed, saying exactly what Mags was thinking.

:I suspect his father is the sort who would not take kindly to his offspring making free with the servants and the dairy-maids,:
Mags agreed.
:I think I had better take matters into my own hands.:

“To be honest, visiting a house in a crowd is not to my taste,” he said, curling his lip a little. “I'll tell you what; let's you and I take this lane here—” He took Hawken's elbow, and guided him down a branching path that led between two manor walls, and quickly out of sight of the group. “For now, I know a very good inn with some outstanding entertainment. We'll enjoy ourselves for a couple of candlemarks, then wander back, and claim we thought
that
was where everyone was going once they return. Then I'll take you to Flora's myself, in a couple of nights.” He winked at Hawken. “The ladies there know me very well. You
won't
get gutted, and you
will
get your money's worth.”

:And you'll have a chance to get your usual report from Flora at the same time. Excellent plan,:
said Dallen.

:Thank you, nothing like using the same trip to accomplish two things.:

“And you
aren't
planning on finding out how much I'm good for?” Hawken asked, with proper suspicion, now that he'd been warned.

Mags laughed aloud. “If you're
offering
out of gratitude, I won't say no,” he assured the young man. “But I promise you, these are my regular haunts and I know exactly what my pockets will bear. Cousin Chipman doesn't coddle, but he doesn't keep me short, either.”

“In that case, pray, lead on,” Hawken said. “Where are we going?”

“A highly entertaining establishment that boasts an actual stage, and actual players. The beer and wine are a little
overpriced, but that is made up for by virtue of the fact that the entertainment is free,” Mags told him, as they came out from between the two walls onto one of the streets that was going to drop them onto the street of inns once they passed two more manors. “I think you'll be amused.”

•   •   •

With Hawken's assurance that he'd told his parents that he was probably going to dine with friends, the two of them stayed down at the King's Helm until well after dinner, a dinner which Mags insisted on paying for, to cement his trustworthiness in Hawken's eyes. He considered taking Hawken on to Flora's that very night anyway, but decided against it. The young man was enjoying himself very much with the tamer entertainment of light comedies and good music he was getting. There was no point in overwhelming him.

And besides . . . I probably ought to find out just what his father would think of him going to a brothel. He might be fine with it, but I'd rather Magnus didn't make an enemy of the man if he's not.

:Want me to get Nikolas to find out?:
Dallen asked
:I think he and Lord Semel and the King are all doing the “old crony” chat at the moment and now would be an ideal time.:

:If it can be worked into the conversation, please. Don't bother to tell me anything unless the answer is “no,” and I'll assume if I don't hear anything, I can go ahead.:

He hadn't heard anything from Dallen by the time he and Hawken walked up through the gate to the Palace and were waved through by the Guards, who recognized “Magnus” on sight, and nodded when Hawken fumbled out the token that showed he lived at the Palace.

There were a lot of members of the Court strolling about in the illuminated gardens, and that was where Mags bid him farewell. “I am going to walk some of this wine off, not be
tempted into drinking more,” he told Hawken. “I have a lesson with the Weaponsmaster first thing in the morning, and I do
not
want to be feeling the effects of our evening when I meet up with him.” And before Hawken could say anything, he sauntered off into the darkness, only doubling back and slipping into his own quarters when he was sure Hawken would not spot him.

There were lights burning in the sitting room, but he had already sensed that Amily was there, and not socializing—if the King's Own could
ever
be said to be “socializing”—with the Court.

“I found the Sisters of Ardana!” were the words Amily greeted him with as soon as he was in the door. “And I went down to talk to them, and discovered . . . quite a bit, actually. How are your ribs?”

He sat down gingerly beside her, and put his arm around her shoulders. “Lubricated and pains eased with a good bit of wine,” he replied, and told her where he had been, and his encounter with two of the four offspring of Lord Semel. “That oldest girl . . .” he shook his head. “She ought to come with a sign about her neck warning the susceptible. I hope she's got a sensible head under that cascade of perfect hair. The oldest boy is suggestible, but not a total innocent. I warned him off of Danver Haylie's set, and we went and had innocent fun. And in a few days I'll take him to Flora's.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, you wicked corruptor of innocent youth!” she said.

“The youth in question was going to get corrupted sooner or later,” he pointed out. “And your father, via Dallen, made sure
his
father isn't going to object. I'm just making sure he does it safely and within his means. So, what happened when you visited the Sisters of Ardana? And where are they now exactly?”

He found a comfortable position to ease his ribs—which were starting to ache a bit after all that walking—and listened
to her carefully, frowning when she revealed just how the Sethorites had tricked the Sisters.

“It's a pretty legal question,” he said at last, out of his experience of
far
too much time in the Haven Courts of Law. “They certainly were tricked. But I think you'd have a difficult time getting a judge to agree that they were
swindled.
The value of that farm seems to equal or better the value of the property and Temple. In fact, it could be said they are much better off now, and that the only people who've been discommoded are their congregants. Can
they
rightly be numbered among the Sisters? Legally, I don't think so.”

She nodded. “That was the conclusion I came to, so I went to the Prince with a suggestion, and he took it. He's gifting the Sisters with a big cart, a driver, and a mule; he specified an enclosed cart, with benches that can be removed. So the congregants can come down to services twice a week, and the rest of the time the Sisters have the cart to haul what needs to be hauled.”

“They can probably even arrange for the cart to be hired for a half day at a time when they don't need it,” Mags observed. “That's more income. But to get back to what the Sethorites did—if this case were to come in front of me at the Law Court, I'd have to say they were even, even if I got the High Priest under Truth Spell—which I will bet any amount of money he would refuse to do—and proved they'd deliberately swindled the Sisters.”

It was too warm for a fire, but Amily had clustered some candles on the hearth, so they not only gave off a pleasant light, the heat went straight up the chimney. The light from those candles illuminated Amily's sober expression. “The Weaponsmaster always says to pick the battles you can win,” she observed pensively. “This really isn't one we could win.”

He wasn't about to say anything as patronizing as “you're learning,” but he was aware that this
was
“one of those lessons.” Being King's Own meant having to figure out things
like that. And she'd done so on her own, he was sure of that. The only thing that this conversation with him had
really
been about was just her confirming to herself that this had been the only way to proceed—and maybe getting reassurance from his answer.

“Got a question for you,” he said. “Think we're spendin' too much time on Lord Semel's family?”

She shook her head immediately. “He's a friend of the King, a confidant of the King, and I suspect it's an open secret that he's been one of the King's informants in the area of his estate. Anyone that wants to influence the King through him will go
straight
for one of his children or his wife. His wife is probably well aware of just that, and is not going to be taken in, but the children are not. I'll talk to one of the Trainees about keeping an eye on Lirelle once she starts taking classes. If we can interest Loren in classes, all the better, that puts two of them in a place where we can keep track of them. If you've become Hawken's confidant, that settles that. That leaves Helane, who I know
nothing
about, and as we saw with Violetta, that can be dangerous—but I have Lady Dia alerted, and I'm talking with her tomorrow about Helane.”

“So the short answer's no, we ain't spendin' too much time on 'em.” He grinned. “A little prevention's gonna save us a whole lotta cure, I reckon.”

“Me too,” she said. “Now I think we can afford to spend some time on
us.
”

•   •   •

Amily was in Lady Dia's kennel—a two-story building easily as big as the stable, that held her beloved dogs. No smell of urine or droppings here; Dia had two servants assigned to the kennel so that nothing was allowed to remain longer than a candlemark, and generally not even that. Whelping and nesting boxes were kept full of fresh straw and the floor of each
pen had a thick layer of sawdust. The place was as immaculate as the Companions' stable.

No one who
only
knew the elegant, fashionable, poised, and polished Lady Dia would ever have recognized the woman down on her knees in the straw, surrounded by a tumble of enormous puppies. Dia was wearing a pair of stained and maltreated leather trews, tucked into a pair of scuffed and patched boots, and a canvas smock that looked as if she had stolen it off the back of a ploughman, and her hair was up on the top of her head in a loose and messy knot.

The “Lady Dia” that the Court knew was a stunningly beautiful woman, with masses of dark hair, huge, melting brown eyes, the only person with a truly “heart-shaped” face Amily had ever known until she had seen Helane, and one who was never seen without every hair in place, eyes subtlety shadowed, cheeks charmingly blushed.

This Dia looked like one of her lesser servants—at least, until you got a glimpse of her face, which was still stunning, even without enhancement.

Although Dia was known in Court circles mostly for her “muff dogs,” well-mannered and placid little lapdogs trained to remain obediently wherever their owners wanted them, such as in a muff to warm hands, or under skirts to warm feet, these puppies were the size of four adult muff-dogs put together. These were some of Dia's prized mastiffs, loyal, brave, and steady. And, when grown, they were big enough for a small child to ride. That made them formidable opponents that even an armed and armored man would hesitate to engage.

“How can you tell which ones will make the best protectors?” Amily asked, curiously.

“I have Nils test them for me. He's one of my trainers, but until he tests them, they won't have seen him before,” Dia said, giving all the pups a quick rub or tussle before standing up and closing the door on the kennel. “That's critical; the tester has to have no preconceptions, and the pups have to react
to a total stranger. He's tested this lot already. We have a system worked out, so I know the one with the blue collar there will be good for someone who has never seen a mastiff before, the ones with the green and red collars will need someone experienced but will make excellent protection dogs, the one with the yellow collar is shyer than the others, and would actually do well to guard Seth Maren's old mother once he's trained, and that one with the black collar is a loner, and would do just fine as a cattle guardian, with minimal human interaction.”