The Dog of the North (12 page)

He had been tempted several times to take his proposals to Tardolio. The Summer King lacked Fanrolio’s timidity and might be thought more favourable to the idea of an assault on Croad. But
ever since Beauceron had come into Mettingloom he had been Fanrolio’s man: his contacts and influence were all in the court of the Winter King. Tardolio must be suspicious of any overture
from one of Fanrolio’s captains, and Fanrolio would have him killed at the slightest suspicion that Beauceron was courting the Sun – and Davanzato’s intelligencers would find out
soon enough. For all its superficial appeal, the idea was impractical.

From downstairs he heard the tinkle of the guest bell, and then the heavy tread of Kainera on the stairs. ‘Lady Isola requests the pleasure of your company, sir.’

Beauceron raised his eyebrows. He did not remember having a visiting relationship with her. Perhaps she meant to stab him, or worse, to upbraid him again.

‘Send her in, Kainera. And see if you can get some more heat from the fire.’

Kainera poked ineffectually at the hearth before disappearing downstairs. Beauceron reached for breeches, boots and a jacket. He heard a much lighter tread on the stairs and then Lady Isola
stood before him.

‘My lady,’ he said, still pulling a boot on. ‘I am honoured by your attention, and charmed by your loveliness.’

Davanzato had certainly ensured she would dress as a lady during her stay in the North. Her cloak of deep red covered an exquisite aquamarine silk dress decorated with the battlecat emblem of
Sey. The winter air had brought a flush to her cheeks and her dark eyes shone from the exertion. Beauceron also noticed that she did not have a knife obviously about her person. Was this indeed
simply a social call?

Isola merely returned an arch look. ‘Cosetta said that you flirted with her. Your brazenness is almost admirable.’

‘All experience is valuable, my lady. “While we live, we learn.” Please, be comfortable. This was once your home, if only for a night.’

Isola sat on the couch with schooled precision. ‘I came to assess your health. I understand you took a wound last night.’

‘A scratch,’ said Beauceron with a smirk. ‘Albizzo, inevitably, was more seriously dealt with. I am gratified – if puzzled – by your solicitude.’

Kainera appeared with hot drinks and Isola sipped calmly at her steaming cup.

‘My betrothed has promised to hang you in the market square at Croad,’ she said. ‘I would hate for circumstances to deny him the opportunity.’

‘I am comforted to know that your concern has a rational basis,’ said Beauceron. ‘I am able to present both good and bad tidings. The good news is that I plan to stand, after a
long absence, in the centre of Croad. Hissen willing, the day is not too far distant. The worse news, certainly for Lord Oricien, is that I do not plan to put my neck in his noose; although he is
welcome to try.’

Isola sat and drank her tea for a while. ‘Davanzato says that you harbour an insane resentment against Croad, and think only of its humiliation. Since I am to marry its ruler, I am curious
as to your motives.’

‘I warned you that Davanzato is untrustworthy,’ he said. ‘He is not a casual gossip, and if he imparts information it is for the purposes of influencing your opinion. It is no
secret that I have advised the Winter King to assault Croad, but I am not the first captain to have had the idea. Lord Oricien’s father had to deal with a similar invasion.’

‘But Davanzato says there is something personal, deep within you, that impels you to such desires. You show no interest in taking Jeis or Slent.’

‘Neither city is readily accessible from Mettingloom. Only a buffoon would attempt such an assault.’

‘So you do mean to attack Croad? Are you mad?’

‘On the contrary. Croad may be walled but Oricien can rely on little help from Emmen or Glount. King Enguerran is a belligerent young man, and his Immaculates are unmatched for valour, but
he is more concerned with the South than the North. He thinks to wrest Vasi Vasar from King Ingomer. Croad might as well not exist for him.’

‘Why then has Croad not fallen to the North before?’

Beauceron drained his tea with a flourish. ‘Allow me some secrets,’ he said. ‘Soon you will return to Croad and report this conversation to Oricien. So far he learns only that
factions within Mettingloom wish to attack Croad – hardly news. But were I to list the weaknesses of his defences I would only allow him to regroup.’

‘I am no closer to understanding your motives.’

‘It is not my intention that you should,’ he said, rising from his seat. ‘I must pay a number of calls, including Davanzato. May I escort you to the Occonero?’

Isola rose as well; Beauceron passed her cloak and for an instant their hands brushed and Isola coloured. ‘That would be kind. Davanzato has allowed me no money for the wherry.’

Thirty minutes later they arrived at Davanzato’s offices. The Under-Chamberlain was disengaged and they were ushered in to the parlour. Davanzato rose from his seat. ‘My lady!
Beauceron! I am charmed to see you both, especially on such cordial terms.’

‘Lady Isola is adamant that I should remain safe from harm until such time as Oricien should capture and hang me. I find her candour refreshing.’

Isola removed her cloak and sat down. Davanzato said: ‘A degree of resentment is understandable in the circumstances.’

‘Your generous spirit does you credit, Davanzato,’ said Beauceron. ‘The viators would give praise at your approach to Harmony. Imagine their delight were you to show your
sympathy in a more concrete way – for instance, by waiving your commission and thereby reducing the ransoms the ladies’ sponsors must pay.’

Davanzato looked sourly at Beauceron. ‘I cannot imagine that Lady Isola is deceived by your sophistry into believing that anyone other than yourself is responsible for her
predicament.’

Beauceron shrugged. ‘It was never my intention to do so. We must all take the consequences of our actions – or indeed, inactions.’

‘Inactions?’

‘I had no specific examples in mind. I merely spoke in a general sense. While I am here, perhaps I might arrange a time for my audience with His Puissance.’

Davanzato shot Isola a sideways glance, his brown eyes flashing. ‘You imagine that I have no other duties but to see to your convenience.’

‘On my return to Mettingloom I offered you proofs of my regard for your person. It is common for folk of friendly feelings to do each other a good turn.’

‘Your observations are boorish in the extreme. It is impolite to refer to your cordial feelings in this crass commercial manner, and even more so when one of the “proofs of your
regard” sits beside you.’

‘I cannot imagine how you arrived at the conclusion that I had “given” you Lady Isola, a woman of dignity and worth. She was not my property to give you. You will remember that
I petitioned the King to collect her ransom, and out of friendship offered you the chance to secure the agent’s fee. My gift, if it can be so described, was the commission, rather than Lady
Isola herself.’

Isola stood up. ‘I am not some chattel that you can bargain among yourselves for petty advantage. I am a lady of Sey and I expect to be treated as such. You are both as bad as each other,
except that Beauceron is somewhat worse.’

She snatched her cloak and swept from the room.

‘I am glad that Lady Isola has formed such a rapid assessment of your merits, Beauceron.’

You gain nothing by antagonizing me. I have shown you great favour since my return. To date I see no sign of it being reciprocated. Have you attempted to arrange an audience for me with the
King?’

‘Frankly? Since your project is an impractical fanfaronade, I saw no point in wasting my time or His Puissance’s.’

Beauceron gave a measured nod. ‘In that case you will have no objection to returning the items of plate I gave you, or indeed reimbursing me the 8,000 florins agent’s fee I have
forgone. A man with your reputation for probity would not wish to have it bruited about, however unfairly, that he took gifts for services he had no intention of performing.’

Davanzato looked at Beauceron with cold eyes. ‘You are over-hasty. His Puissance will be consulting me on his diary after supper tonight. We may yet be able to arrange an
audience.’

Beauceron rose and bowed. ‘I will wait to hear from you,’ he said as he left the room.

3

Beauceron took a wherry to the Armamentary, sandwiched between the dockyard and Fanrolio’s private palace, Hiverno. He presented himself at the gate. ‘Where
will I find General Virnesto?’

The guard consulted his schedule. ‘The General is next door at the docks reviewing a new pinetto.’

‘Thank you. I will find him there.’

He stepped next door into the dockyard, immediately to find Virnesto in conversation with a shipwright who was explaining the merits of his new craft, which bobbed on the blue-black sea. A cruel
wind dragged their cloaks almost to the horizontal.

‘She is fast, seaworthy. She will run with the wind faster than a cog and can even outrun a galley.’

‘Hmph,’ said Virnesto. ‘And in a calm? If I had a fleet of these off Garganet and the wind died? Their galleys would cut us to pieces in an hour. If you cannot deliver me a
ship which can outrun a galley in a calm – presumably with oars – then do not waste my time. Your pinetto is as much use as a gelded bull: it’s too light to fight and too heavy to
row. Bring me a new design within the month.’

Beauceron grinned. ‘Still trying to beat the Garganet navy?’

Virnesto turned and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Beauceron! I thought you might be resting today.’

‘I am too hardy to be worried by a nick.’

‘You should be more careful,’ said Virnesto. ‘Sooner or later you will get yourself killed.’

Beauceron shrugged. ‘We all have our foibles. I yearn to take Croad; you have not given up your dream of trouncing the Garganet navy.’

‘The circumstances are not similar,’ said Virnesto, leading Beauceron out to the sea wall at the front of the dockyard. The lagoon stretched away before them, grey and pettish.
‘I have no lust for war – at least, not your sort. A spot of raiding in the summer; well, why not? But a deliberate, purposeful assault on a fortified city that we do not want and could
not hold? I cannot understand your enthusiasm.’

‘Maybe you are getting old, Virnesto.’

‘Or maybe just wiser. I remember you arriving in Mettingloom. You were a hothead then, and you remain one to this day,’ said Virnesto with an easy smile.

‘I know how to hold a grudge. It is one of the marks of true nobility.’

Virnesto’s mouth twitched. ‘If that is so, you will be King of all Mondia one day.’

‘For now, I have a difficulty.’

‘The situation cannot be unusual for you. Last night you escaped a pointless death by a whisker, and you have those two Emmenrule ladies baying for your blood.’

‘My concern is much simpler: Davanzato.’

‘Ah.’

Beauceron leaned on the sea wall and looked southwest. At the limit of his vision he could see the Ferrant Mountains: on the far side of the range lay Emmen.

‘I have – of course – bribed Davanzato liberally. The fact remains that he lacks enthusiasm for the venture. He will neither raise the matter with Fanrolio nor allow me
to.’

‘There is no profit for him in a war. Trade with Mettingloom would decline, to his detriment, since he skims a percentage from the Pellagiers’ revenues. Not, I think, that Fanrolio
would support your scheme in any event.’

‘I cannot understand,’ said Beauceron as the wavelets lapped against the dock wall, ‘why there is so much resistance to the idea. When I was a child in the Emmenrule, all folk
talked of was the terror of raiders from the North. Now I am one of them, and the raiders are too timid to leave their fires and dimonettoes.’

Virnesto reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a handful of sour-nuts mixed with dried redders. He offered some to Beauceron and said: ‘It is not that simple now, and it was
not then. Fanrolio is the Winter King, and the winter is not the campaigning season. When did a Winter King last launch an invasion? The Snow King’s job is to look to the defences, to build
and to plan.’

Beauceron ate the last of the nuts and brushed the dust from his hands. ‘I can take it that you will not advocate the plan to Fanrolio?’

Virnesto opened his hands wide. ‘I never said that I would, and nor did I take a bribe to do so. I see no benefit to Mettingloom in your programme, regardless of the advantages to
yourself. If you wish to convert Davanzato to your cause, you must appeal either to his self-interest or his fears – preferably both.’

With that he turned on his heel and walked off towards his barracks. Beauceron was left looking out over the sea towards the enemy over the horizon.

4

In Mettingloom, the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Winter held the city in its grip; the aquavias froze over and the wherries were put away. Beauceron
was no closer to an audience with Fanrolio, and now he was no longer paying his men, he knew they would be sinking into dissipation. Once the time came to assault Croad they would have become
indolent and slack.

Beauceron presented himself at the suite on the upper storey of Hiverno, where Isola maintained her small household.

‘I am not sure if her ladyship is at home to visitors,’ said the maid, Dortensia. ‘Under-Chamberlain Davanzato has already gone away disappointed.’

‘I am not Under-Chamberlain Davanzato,’ said Beauceron with a grimace. ‘I should hate that confusion to occur.’

Dortensia went away and returned after a lengthy pause. ‘Her ladyship will see you,’ she said with a curious expression that seemed to mingle disdain and anticipation.

He walked through the double doors into the small but expensively furnished salon. ‘My lady! How do I find you today?’

Isola turned away from the window where she had been looking out over the frozen lagoon. Her eyes were reddened and moist.

‘You are the man I hate most in the world,’ she hissed. ‘You have ruined me.’