The King's Justice (18 page)

Such seeming quirks and misjudgments disturbed me in my laborium, but did not impel my Queen to summon me, either for counsel or for eavesdropping. Other events, however, were more fraught. One such I heard described in converse with scullery-maids and servers and an occasional household guard in the lower eating hall of the Domicile. For a time, the hall was rife with talk that another attempt had been made on Excrucia's life.

This was not reported to me by my ally herself. She was occupied elsewhere, perhaps commanded to tasks or ceremonies by her mother, or perhaps restricted to the sanctuary of her
chambers. I did not see her. Therefore I knew nothing of her own heart and life, certainly nothing of her efforts at my behest. However, the tale as I retrieved it from overheard snippets, direct queries, and flagrant exaggerations went thus.

In the aftermath of the first attempt, my Queen and Vail augmented their caution. Several of the household guards were placed at Vail's disposal. Increased entourages escorted Excrucia's movements. And either Her Majesty or Vail foresaw that the girl's food must be tasted—a precaution which would not have entered my head, but which events proved necessary. Some ten days after our discussion of Indemnie's need, Excrucia's taster fell violently ill. Fortunately he did not perish, though my Queen's physician declared poison without hesitation. Alive, the stricken taster offered a degree of guidance to Vail's investigations. Within hours, the source of the poison was traced to a flask of wine intended for Excrucia's sole use, she being partial to it. The wine steward and several serving-maids and boys were put to the question. After what some called minor flogging and others described with shudders as crippling torment, one of the younger maids admitted responsibility. Persuaded by her lover, whom she named as the scion of a family in service to Baron Jakob Plinth, she had added a powder both tasteless and potent to Excrucia's wine. The reason given to the maid—so rumor proclaimed—was a desire to end the rule of the Phlegathon deVrys for the good of the realm. Baron Plinth was widely considered censorious enough to nurture that ambition.

So much was hearsay rather than confirmed knowledge.
Thus I felt entitled to my doubts. Jakob Plinth was known to be dour, stern, strict in honesty, and uxorious to a fault. Among the barons, therefore, he was the man whom I was least inclined to suspect, despite his disapproving acceptance of his sovereign's proposal. When I had recovered from my alarm on Excrucia's behalf, I concluded that the use of a man putatively attached to Baron Plinth was a ploy to deflect attention from the true traitor.

Who then remained to accuse? Praylix Venery I discounted. He would not keep his own secrets—and could not keep another's. And Quirk Panderman spent his days irredeemably fuddled by drink. As for Glare Estobate, he was wrathful enough to strike any blow, yet I judged him too blunt for subtle treachery. By such reasoning, my suspicions fell on Thrysus Indolent, who had revealed the nature of Inimica Phlegathon deVry's marriage machinations to Baron Estobate.

However, my every search by augury for the truth failed. In such matters, I relied chiefly upon chickens. Being simple creatures, their entrails were easily interpreted by such gifts as mine. And to a scrying eye, the light they shed, being likewise simple, promised illumination. Alas, their minds were too simple for my purpose. Lacking awareness, they also lacked subtlety. I had it in my heart to forewarn my Queen, but I found myself unable to confirm my suspicions—or, indeed, to deny them. Though I stewed in intestines, small organs, and worry until I feared that my mind would boil, I learned nothing not already known to me.

Doom from within Indemnie. Doom from the east. And the policies of Inimica Phlegathon deVry subverted hope with every passing day. They subverted mere comprehension. She had encouraged me to sacrifice a child—a
child
—but that I would not do. For that reason, I positively required an understanding of alchemy, and of
chrism
. Also I required spies to counsel me when hieronomy could not. Yet I had none. Therefore I was dependent on Excrucia for further aid—and she was now too closely sequestered to attend me.

Frustrated beyond endurance, I felt the walls of my laborium crowd close around me until I labored for breath and a foul sweat stood on my brow. When I could no longer suffer the littleness of my domain, I took to wandering the servants' halls where my presence was permitted, seeking scraps of gossip, rumor, complaint, and speculation concerning events beyond the Domicile—hints which might serve to relieve me. Also I ascended and descended endlessly the passages within the walls, aspiring to some glimpse of my Queen's dealings—or of her daughter's circumstances. However, I found no ease until a handful of days had passed. Then I was nearly toppled by alarm when the jangle of a bell summoned me once again to attend upon Indemnie's ruler unseen.

Now I did not trouble to compose myself. When my knees had recovered the strength to support me, I flew like a demented bat for the nearest of the Domicile's hidden stairs.

As before, I found Her Majesty in the opulent chamber which served as her public boudoir. As always, the meretricious bed
and furnishings fostered a feigned suggestion of private comfort, indeed of private pleasure. On this occasion, however, I came belated to my post behind the tapestry which concealed my entrance. My Queen's visitor had already effected his entry.

Before Indemnie's sovereign in all her regal splendor and—as I deemed it—lusciousness stood Baron Thrysus Indolent.

He was a lean man, slight of stature and homely of visage, yet his lack of ordinary attractions, such as regular features, fine hair, and well-formed limbs, was contradicted by the perfect elegance of his attire, which conveyed both great wealth and unassuming modesty in equal measure. In addition, his manner expressed a supreme assurance inexplicable in a man utterly out-shone by his monarch. As for his eyes, they had demons dancing in their depths, mirth and scorn and appreciation and multiple intentions obliquely commingled. Taken together, his manner and his gaze presented him as a man quick as a fox, sagacious as an owl—and hypnotic as a serpent.

I considered it fortunate for the realm that my Queen's own assurance, penetration, and subtlety were in no way diminished by the challenge of Baron Indolent's presence.

They must have exchanged moments earlier the requisite courtesies of such an occasion—inquiries regarding health, personal satisfaction, and so forth. While I strove to master my labored breathing, they continued their colloquy.

“My lord Baron,” my Queen now said with no more than the most delicate hint of tartness, “your entrance is peremptory.”
She might have said
presumptuous
. “I did not summon you. Nor is this the hour when it is my custom to receive my subjects.”

Only then did I recognize that I had no notion whether the time was day or night. I had been entirely consumed by fretting.

“Your Majesty,” he explained, “I came when I was informed of the attempt upon your daughter's life. I confess, however, that I did not travel in haste. I am not precipitate in such matters. The circumstance demanded thought. Nonetheless I am now before you, hoping as any loyal subject must that you will profit from both my tidings and my counsel.”

Inimica Phlegathon deVry gifted the man with a smile to melt stone, had stone either heart or loins. “And do you conceive, my lord Baron, that I am in need of tidings or counsel?”

“Certainly you are not, Your Majesty,” he replied, his assurance undimmed. “Yet I will wager my head that you will be glad of both.”

“Then do so,” she returned with an air of graciousness that belied her command. “I am unaccustomed to intrusion, both upon my person and upon the affairs of the realm.”

“I will, Your Majesty.” His own smile conveyed the curious impression of a pounce held in reserve. “To comply, however, I must first speak of Baron Venery.”

My Queen awaited him with amusement on her lips and flames in her gaze.

“It will not surprise you, I think,” Thrysus Indolent continued, “to hear that he has spoken of your proffered hand—the
same hand which you have offered to me. As you are doubtless aware, Praylix Venery is a treacherous friend—and an invaluable foe. His mind knows nothing that his mouth does not speak. If the other barons remain ignorant of your proposals, it is only because they do not heed him.

“For myself, I am untroubled. I comprehend your gambit, Your Majesty, and consider it wise. Also I am confident of your eventual determination.”

My Queen lifted a flawless eyebrow. “Are you indeed? Then you are as discerning as I have always deemed you.”

Baron Indolent nodded. “A question,” he ventured, “if you will permit it ere I say more. May I trust that you have proposed wedlock to each of the barons—proposed, and been accepted?”

While I strained to hear underlying significances, her manner revealed only that she remained secure in the effect of her loveliness—or perhaps in her comprehension of the Baron. “Trust what you wish,” she replied, unconcerned. “My policies are my own.” A moment later, she deigned to add, “The character of Praylix Venery is known to me.”

Her visitor's glances appeared to flash. “Then I will say no more on the matter,” he conceded, calm as moonlight. “Rather I will hazard another query. Have you been made aware that both Baron Plinth and Baron Estobate are raising armies?”

I found myself unable to draw breath despite my recent exertions.

My Queen again lifted an eyebrow. “Are they indeed? And if they are, what is that to me? Doubtless they intend to assail each
other over some petty affront. I will be displeased—but I will not forbid them to shed each other's blood.”

“I believe otherwise, Your Majesty,” returned the Baron promptly. “I believe that they will unite their forces to assail
you
.”

“Ha!” Her scorn betrayed no taint of doubt. “They are not men enough for the attempt. They have not the daring.”

Thrysus Indolent advanced a step. He held up a hand to caution her as though he had cause to suspect that he might be overheard. In a lowered voice, he avowed, “You discount them too readily, Your Majesty. They are both wrathful men, albeit in divergent fashions, and wrath may drive them to a daring which would daunt ordinary courage.” Before his sovereign could interrupt, he continued, “Also when I speak of raising armies I do not refer to Indemnie's customary motley of peasants and pitchforks. Rather I speak of trained men well armed and armored, with fine sabers and halberds in their hands, helms of iron, and hauberks of boiled leather. I speak of a hundred such men at Glare Estobate's command, and nearer one hundred and fifty obedient to Jakob Plinth's will.

“Such numbers may appear small, but they are too great for the lesser purpose of avenging some petty affront. Indeed, there is no purpose in the realm large enough to justify such force—no purpose other than to overwhelm the Domicile itself. Estobate and Plinth mean to put you to the sword”—he paused long enough to underscore his assertion—“Your Majesty.”

My Queen's smile now held less of ravishment, more of calculation. “My lord Baron, I admire your certainty, though it may
mislead you. Let us suppose briefly that your imaginings are not mere vapor. I have studied ancient treatises on warfare, and I know my house. Two hundred and fifty men however trained and armed cannot carry the Domicile, though my guards number no more than a score. Such
armies
cannot breach my walls.”

Thrysus Indolent shrugged as though the issue were trivial. “They have no need to breach your walls, Your Majesty. They will starve you out. Sources of water you have, but your stores of food cannot endure without the isle's largesse.”

In response, my Queen's shrug mocked her visitor's. I was scarce able to credit my ears as she answered, “Then I must urge you, my lord Baron, to raise an army of your own. Quirk Panderman and, yes, even Praylix Venery must do likewise. You will all need an abundance of men trained and armed. If you do not commit them to my defense, you will require them for your own. When Jakob Plinth and Glare Estobate have put me to the sword, as you suggest, they will turn on
you
. They must, lest you become the blade that bites their backs.”

Though I was badly shaken, I did not miss Thrysus Indolent's reply. His act of surprise—indeed, of alarm—might have appeared genuine, had it not been contradicted by his ready grin and eager gaze. “Then I am lost, Your Majesty,” he claimed without visible discomfort. “We are lost. I am no man for warfare. Panderman cannot concentrate, and Venery cannot rule his thoughts. If you do not assuage Plinth and Estobate—if you do not find some means to deflect their wrath—Indemnie itself is lost.”

And still he conveyed the sense that he was prepared to pounce—and that he had not yet done so. He must, I thought in a scramble of words, he must have felt certain that his sovereign had already been apprised of raised armies and wrath. He must be confident of her spies. Therefore— I endeavored to swallow my heart. Therefore he must also recognize that her air of uninformed unconcern was mere charade, a masque performed to lull his deeper purposes.

A dangerous man, this Baron. His purposes were too deep for my shallow penetration. Why did he pretend to accept her pretense that she was blind to her own peril? What gain was there for him in the revelation of known secrets? In sum, why was he
here
?

For her part, however, my Queen was neither daunted nor doubtful. “Nonetheless,” she stated with some asperity, “it must be done. If you do not caution me against Baron Plinth and Baron Estobate frivolously, it must be done. If you do not provide for my defense or your own, I must conclude that you give no credence to your own suspicions.

“And in
that
case, my lord Baron, I must also conclude that you have yet to name the true purpose of your presence.”