The Baker's Boy (75 page)

"My lord, the
queen's steward has called you to a meeting."

"Why would
the queen's steward want to meet with me?"

"No, master,
it's the queen who wants to meet with you."

"An audience!
Why didn't you say so in the first place, you fool?" Baralis' mind raced
forward-could she possibly have made her decision so quickly? "Bring me my
finest robe, Crope." He thought for a moment. "And fetch me my chancellor's
chain-I would look the part on this auspicious day."

Crope dashed off
and Baralis stood up and went over to the window. He unlatched the shutters and
looked out. Cold air blasted his face: a heavy snow had fallen in the night and
the earth was pristine and white. A glorious day. His servant came forth and
placed the robe and chain upon the bed. Baralis took one last mouthful of the
now cool holk and then readied himself for the queen.

Minutes later he
made his way to the royal apartments.

The armed guards
let him pass and he fancied he saw greater respect in their faces than before.
He was surprised to find the queen ready to greet him; he had thought she would
have made him wait as she had the day before.

"Good day,
Lord Baralis." She inclined her head slightly. "I see you have come
in your official capacity today." She indicated his heavy chain.

"I hope to
honor Your Highness with this mark of my respect." He bowed once more,
emphasizing the compliment. He was pleased to note the queen had taken similar
care with her appearance: her gown was edged in ermine and a golden diadem
sparkled in her hair.

"I have
called you here to inform you of my decision concerning the proposed betrothal
of my son Prince Kylock and Catherine of Bren." She favored him with a
cold but tantalizing smile.

"I am pleased
that Your Highness has made such a fast decision." Baralis resisted the
urge to bow once more; it wouldn't do to appear too eager.

"Mistake me
not, Lord Baralis, I have the will and the means to make any decision I
choose." It was a simple statement of her power, and he acknowledged it
with the slightest of nods. The queen, satisfied that her meaning had been
understood, continued, "I have thought long on the matter we discussed,
and now that I have come to my decision, I see no reason that you should wait
upon its telling."

"As Your
Highness wishes."

"Lord
Baralis, I must admit there was much merit in your words and I am not a person
to let past animosities blur my judgment." She paused taking a deep
breath. "I can see that a joining with Bren would be most beneficial to my
son's future and that of the Four Kingdoms, and that understanding has laid the
basis for my decision." She positioned herself by the light of the window,
knowing it would serve to adorn her. She drew herself up to her full height,
her diadem glittered brilliantly. "I will sanction the betrothal of Kylock
and Catherine of Bren." She looked Baralis full in the face. "Make
your arrangements, Chancellor."

"Your
Highness has made a wise decision." He was careful to keep a note of
humility in his voice-now was not the time for self-congratulation.

"I would move
on this matter with great alacrity. I daresay the duke of Bren has been long
awaiting." She gave Baralis a knowing look.

"He is most
anxious for this match, Your Highness."

"Then I would
keep him waiting no longer. An envoy must be sent to Bren."

"Your
Highness will not go herself!"

"No, my place
is here with the king. My son will also stay here until the match is finalized.
I will not have him risk humiliation by wooing the girl before the matter is
settled. I will send him to Bren only when it is official." Baralis could
not help but admire the queen's caution, even as he knew there was no cause for
it.

"I hope that
I might be able to serve Your Highness in the capacity of envoy." Baralis
noticed a trace of cunning on the face of the queen.

"I will
require two envoys, Lord Baralis. One to represent Prince Kylock and his
interest as heir, and one to represent the Crown." She smiled graciously.
"You will be Prince Kylock's envoy. I have great faith in your abilities
to strike a most favorable contract for my son."

"And the
second envoy? Who will represent the Crown?" Baralis was beginning to feel
a little nervous; it should be he, king's chancellor, who represented the
Crown.

"I have not
made my decision as to that particular appointment yet. I will, of course,
advise you in due time."

"As Your
Highness wishes." He was careful not to let his misgivings show. "How
soon should I move on this matter?"

"As soon as
possible. It will take many weeks to travel to Bren in this inclement weather.
It would be best if we could send the delegation as soon as it is arranged.
Within ten days."

"Ten days
will be sufficient." Baralis was pleased the queen wanted to move quickly.

"There will
be much to arrange, Lord Baralis. You will need an armed escort, at least five
score of men. There will be gifts to be sent and contracts to be drawn
up."

"I will
dispatch a letter this day informing the duke of your decision and my imminent
arrival."

"There is no
need, Lord Baralis." The queen smiled slyly. "I have already done
so."

"Your
Highness is indeed a woman given to fast action." Baralis could not keep
the edge of annoyance from his voice. She had deliberately bypassed him.

"There is
little point in keeping this matter secret. Things like this have a way of
slipping out. It will be all over the castle before the day is through, so I
have decided to make an official announcement. I will gather the court together
later this day and tell them of my plans." The queen said the word my with
much relish. "I will, of course, stress the fact that this matter has not
been finalized and can only be celebrated once the official contracts have been
signed."

"Very well,
Your Highness." Baralis had to concede what the queen said was true, much
as he would have preferred to keep the betrothal secret.

"Now, I am
sure you have business to attend to, so I will grant you leave to do so. I will
call you to me in the next couple of days-we must discuss certain stipulations
that I will require in the betrothal contract. Good day, Lord Baralis. I trust
you will send the next batch of medicine promptly." She dismissed him with
little ceremony, merely a turn of the cheek.

Baralis left and
walked back to his chambers. He was stunned by how quickly the queen had
reached her decision. What cause had she for such urgency? he wondered. Or did
she do it merely to baffle and confound him? He would not put it past her.

He was not
entirely pleased with the turn events had taken. The queen was trying to
distance him from his own plans. She would not succeed, though. He was not
about to give up his position in the forefront now that those plans had come to
fruition. Now more than ever he needed to mold events in his favor, guide them
to his intended conclusions.

Tavalisk was
feeling a little under the weather. His cook had prepared the most tempting of
delicacies for him; but he found he had no appetite for them. The smell of
highly spiced offal assailed his nostrils and served only to make him feel
bilious. He pushed the plate aside and his gimlet-eyed cat jumped onto the
table and began picking at the meat.

There had been yet
another dull ceremony to perform earlier that morning. It was the Day of
Forgiving and tradition dictated that he, as archbishop, should absolve twelve
men of their sins. The twelve men were all convicted criminals who were given
pardon by the first minister. However, the men were not considered completely
free from their crimes until the archbishop had given them God's grace and
granted absolution.

To this end,
Tavalisk had to let all twelve men kiss his ring and then lay his hand upon
their foreheads. The criminals were an unsavory, decidedly unclean bunch, and
in Tavalisk's opinion not one of them deserved to go free. He went through with
the ceremony nonetheless, and even managed to add a certain dramatic flourish
to the proceedings by squeezing a few salty tears from his eye-the gathered
crowd had appreciated that: their beloved archbishop reduced to tears by the
act of forgiveness. What benevolence, they would say, what humanity, what
humility!

The people of Rorn
loved him, he knew, but it never hurt to tip the balance in one's favor by the
use of a little stagecraft now and then. The first minister, on the other hand,
had handled the proceeding with a decided lack of interest. He had picked a
singularly dreary group of criminals-pickpockets, thieves, and swindlers-and
the crowds had been disappointed. They would have preferred famous murderers,
dashing pirates, and brazen madams; the first minister had no sense of the
dramatic.

Tavalisk shooed
the cat away from the offal and it hissed viciously at him. He went to kick the
creature, but it leapt out of the way and he missed. He heard a noise behind
him and was annoyed to see that Gamil had entered. "I did not hear you
knock."

"My
apologies, Your Eminence. The door was open and I presumed-"

"It is not
your place to presume, Gamil," interrupted Tavalisk. "You must always
knock before entering my private apartments, is that clear?"

"Quite clear,
Your Eminence."

"Good. Would
you care for any offal?"

"No, thank
you, Your Eminence. I have already eaten." Tavalisk poured himself a glass
of wine in the hope that it would settle his stomach. He noticed his aide was
reading the title of the book on his desk. "Marod is such a dreary
scholar," he said with an illustrating yawn. "Some foolish woman gave
me it as a gift for blessing her spinning wheel." The archbishop wasn't
ready to let Gamil in on his suspicions about Marod's prophecies. "So,
what news do you bring me this day?"

"Toolay has
decided to ban the knights. It would seem that the last spate of violent
protest was just too much for the authorities."

"Good, I knew
Toolay would follow our example."

"Nine knights
were slain on the streets of Marls last week. They were pulled from hiding and
dragged into the street. They were hacked to death by the crowd. They used
anything they could lay their hands on: blades, knives, shears."

"How
unpleasant. I suppose this incident will speed the sending of the dreaded
Letter of Condemnation." Tavalisk shuddered with mock fright.

"I think it
has upset many people, Your Eminence."

"Marls was
ever a foolish city. No matter, as long as no one lays the blame at our door."
Tavalisk yawned widely. "Is there anything else?"

"I do have
some news Your Eminence might be interested in."

"What is
that, Gamil?"

"A certain
Lord Cravin entered the city last night."

"And who pray
tell is he?" Tavalisk poured honey into his wine.

"Lord Cravin
is a very powerful man in Bren."

"Is he
really?" The archbishop licked his fingers clean of honey. "What's he
doing in Rom?"

"Trade, I
think. He has many business interests in the south."

"How very
interesting. I think I would like to meet this man. I am looking to make the
acquaintance of someone from the fine city of Bren."

"I will
arrange a meeting, Your Eminence."

"Good. Any
news on our knight?"

"I think he
must be nearing Bevlin's home by now, Your Eminence."

"Hmm. The
knight is up to something. People like the Old Man and Bevlin don't deal with
trivialities. I must give the matter some deliberation. I can't help thinking
that it's all connected somehow."

"What's all
connected?"

"Our knight
and his brethren, Bevlin, Baralis-" the archbishop raised his arms
expansively "-everyone."

"It is the
first sign of derangement, Your Eminence, when one begins to see plots all
around one."

"Gamil, you
will never realize the dangers and responsibilities that accompany the bearing
of great power. There are plots all around, and the fact that I'm aware of them
is a measure of my astuteness." The archbishop drained his cup of honeyed
wine. "You may go now, Gamil. I am not feeling too well and would like to
be left alone. I think I caught something from those damned criminals this
morning."

"How very
unfortunate."

Tavalisk looked
up, detecting a note of sarcasm in his aide's voice, but Gamil had already
turned his back and was walking from the room. The archbishop considered
calling him back, and then, as his stomach began to rumble unpleasantly,
decided against it. There would be other days to pay the man back for his
impertinence.

Maybor was chilled
to the bone. He had called another meeting with Traff and the man was late.
Snow lay thick on the ground and he had to admit he'd never seen the middens
looking so good. He drew his cloak close and stamped his feet to keep warm. He
was beginning to wonder if the mercenary had just taken the money and run when
he came into sight. Traff did not look very pleased.

"You picked a
foul day to be outside." Traff was illdressed for the cold, wearing the
thinnest of cloaks.

"The stables
are too risky. I will not meet there again."

"What d'you
want? I thought we'd agreed on the plan yesterday."

"Yesterday we
agreed what to do about my daughter. That is only part of what concerns
me." Maybor was shorttempered.

"I've already
told you I won't act as your assassin as far as Baralis is concerned."

"You have
made that very clear. I need information from you. I didn't pay you two hundred
golds just so you could marry my daughter."

"I gave you
information," snapped Traff.

"You told me
about what Baralis has done. I want to know what he is planning to do. He is up
to more than tracking down Melliandra. He has schemes afoot and I would know of
them."