The Still (50 page)

“You’d balk at that, whereas Groenfil benefits me, yet costs you naught. I’ve thought the matter through. Where’s your noble young prisoner?”

“Bondsman. Eating with the servants, I presume. If your support is essential, why wouldn’t Margenthar pay you as well as I?”

“Perhaps he would. Will.” A grim smile. “At the moment I hesitate to ask. With Tantroth loose, Mar’s good humor is dwindled.” The smile faded. “And were Margenthar to prevail, I’m too close to Stryx to invite his enmity. Unlike your patron Cumber, who tugs at the tiger’s tail with impunity from his hills.”

“Why say you Cumber is my patron?”

“Oh, nonsense, boy!” Her palm slapped the table. “I knew before you did. We could none of us survive without a close eye on the other.”

I looked longingly at the wine, but held myself together. “If it’s as you say, then Groenfil will know what we agree. How then could I seek”—Rustin stirred, made as if to speak—“his vote?”

Soushire’s eyes narrowed. After a moment, she closed her eyes, mopped her forehead. “Excuse me, young prince. I feel not well.” She heaved herself from her chair, hurried from the room.

Outside the window, dogs began to growl.

I turned to Rust. “What did I—”

“Later.” It was a command. “To our rooms.” His mouth tight, he led the way.

Candles fluttered when I flung open our door. Anavar, sitting cross-legged in a corner, started with alarm.

My voice was a snarl. “Out! I don’t sleep with servants. Find where Genard and Chela stay, and bed there.” I slammed the door the moment he was gone, and turned to Rustin. “Well?”

“We’ll speak as we did in Cumber.” He untied his jerkin, readied himself for bed.

Later, under the covers, he put his lips to my ear. “Roddy, you’ve imperiled us. You should have known better.”

I replayed our conversation as best I could, but could find no error. “What did I do?”

His words were so soft I had to strain to hear. “Until you spoke of Groenfil, Soushire thought hers was the fourth vote. She had no idea you had only two others.”

“Oh.” I slapped my forehead. “I’m a dunce.”

“Agreed.” He put lips to my ear once more. “How do we undo me damage?”

For a long while I thought. Then, at last, I stirred, took breath, said a trifle more loudly, “Do you think it worked?”

Rustin tensed. My fingers went to his mouth, in a seal.

“I know, Rust, but you could see she guessed. We’ll lose Speaker Vessa’s pledge if anyone suspects we have it. Surely you know that.” A pause. Rustin tensed, his eyes locked on mine. I said, “What choice did I have, but to confuse Soushire? She thinks we had but two others.”

At last, Rustin nodded, and I removed my hand.

“But if Soushire refused to support you ...” His voice too was audible.

“Then we make Groenfil the fourth, as we said.” A creak. I strained to discern a movement, a hidden breath, but heard no more. “As long as Soushire thinks she’s only the third vote, she won’t price her support so dear. Wait ’til the morrow; you’ll see. Now, let me sleep.” I leaned back, heart pounding.

I had done what I might. Rustin nodded his approval, and nestled close.

I woke to a rainy morn. My head ached, and I snarled at whoever crossed my path. A castle servant brought water. I demanded my own bondsmen; they roused Anavar and Garst. The two tried to help with my ablutions, but had the clumsiness of untrained manservants. The throb of my forehead added to the vigor of my rebukes.

Lady Soushire called us to breakfast; I roused Elryc in the adjoining room, waited impatiently while he dressed.

Downstairs, Soushire greeted us with civility, as if nothing untoward had passed the night before. Pausing midway through a plate stuffed with viands she asked casually, “How long will you stay with us, Lord Rodrigo?”

My tone was dry. “Not long, it would seem.”

“My apologies for last night. I was, ah, indisposed.” She took a brimming forkful of egg bread.

I nodded, not sure what response was suitable.

“As to my vote in Council ...”

I held my breath, waited for her to finish.

“... I rather like your suggestion I negotiate with Margenthar.” She downed her drink, signaled for more. “Unless you persuade me to bargain with you instead.”

“Madam, don’t play with us. On what terms may we have your vote?”

“You know my price. The lands and folk of Groenfil, and the title.”

“Beyond reason.” Still, relief washed over me; at least her proposition still stood.

Soushire snorted, refilled her plate. “But not beyond your ability to pay. And I wouldn’t renew the offer but for other troubling questions.”

“Such as?”

“Tantroth.” She chewed moodily. “Why did Llewelyn abandon his keep? Why doesn’t Mar bestir himself to throw out the invaders? Is a deal struck between them? If so, who among them would take the throne?”

“Crown me, and they’ll be answered.”

Mesmerized, Elryc watched our byplay.

“You’re an unproven boy. I’ve risks either way. Further, my vote is pledged to Duke Margenthar.”

“Yours isn’t the only vote I could seek.”

“You jest. Whom else would you pry loose? The Warthen?”

“Lord Groenfil, for one.”

“Hah. Have you forgotten his sister is Mar’s wife? I can think of nothing on earth that would separate—”

“I can.” Rustin.

Soushire stopped short. “Oh?”

Rust said blandly, “If my lord Prince were to tell Groenfil you mean to negotiate with Mar for his title and lands ...”

“Bah. Who would believe you?”

“Groenfil would.” Rust spoke quietly. “When Rodrigo swore so by the True of Caledon.”

I lifted a glass, to hide my exultation. Why hadn’t I thought of such a maneuver?

“Clever.” Soushire drummed her fingers on the tablecloth, considering. “But, no, I don’t think he’d adhere to you even then. Though it might make him more wary of his brother-in-law.” She looked up with a smile. “What you’ve done, lad, is make it more imperative that we strike a bargain. I don’t want to risk the wrath of either Groenfil or Mar, and you can’t afford to do without my vote.”

I said, “Since when are a noble’s lands subject to barter? It’s outrageous.”

Soushire’s tone was curious. “Can one in your position afford principles?”

Elryc stirred. “Consider your own position, my lady.” His voice was thin and reedy. “You alienate Uncle Mar, Groenfil,
and
the future King. Ask of Roddy something reasonable, that he can give.”

Soushire mopped the last of her plate. “A good point, but I’ve long dreamed of Groenfil, and the moment is auspicious. I don’t intend to vary one iota from the terms I’ve set.”

She hoisted herself from her place. “Let us have your answer soon; if we’re not in agreement, be on your way by nightfall.” Her napkin fell from her fingers. “Then, I’ll put my terms to Mar.” With that, she trudged from the room.

I nibbled at the remainder of my food, finally rose in disgust. “I need to walk.”

Rustin said, “It’s storming.”

“Then I’ll be wet.” I crossed the outer hall.

“The spies ...”

“It’s day. At this hour they can’t hide in shadows.” Still, I was glad that Fostrow rose to follow.

The rain was chill. I stalked across the muddy courtyard, found a wall whose overhang offered shelter. I strode along its length.

Clearly, I had to refuse Soushire’s demand. Groenfil might be untrustworthy, even corrupt, but Soushire was hardly better. Why favor one over the other? Besides, it wasn’t for a king to redistribute his vassals’ lands.

My shirt was soggy, and water dripped in my eyes. I wiped them, and stepped into a puddle. Cursing, I stomped my soaked foot, almost lost my boot in the mud.

Time for a deep breath. It seemed to help, so I took another. Rain wasn’t so bad as long as one didn’t mind getting soaked. Once, I’d stood under a small waterfall, and enjoyed it I relaxed my shoulders, let the drenching rain pour over me.

At last I moved on, but this time I strolled, careless of the wet.

I could count on Willem and Cumber. Vessa’s vote was unlikely; Groenfil’s even more so. Therefore, I needed both Soushire and the Warthen of the Sands. Else I would not be crowned by Council, and couldn’t wield the Still.

I climbed steps, brooding. Could I somehow swing the Warthen to my cause? A peculiar fellow, he, but ...

I found myself on a low battlement, secured by a stone parapet. I braced myself on the embedded rock, leaned over the edge, stared blindly at Castle Town. Lord of Nature only knew what odious terms the Warthen would propose.

Water dripped from my nose. I watched it trickle down a groove of the stone, to the ground. Near my hand, a deep puddle had formed in a scoop of the rock. Shielded by my body, no droplets struck it. It seemed a lake in minuscule.

I moved; a drop of water struck, sent a ripple coursing. Reflexively, I covered the puddle, protecting it.

Ah, Mother. This puzzle is too deep for me. I’m close to my crown, but fuddled.

My palms spread low over the puddle.

When I must be brilliant, all I can do is stumble about in the rain. More proof I’m unfit to rule.

Mother’s visage floated, stern, silent.

Madam, why didn’t you renounce me when you could? Or else, live to see me through? My thoughts settled into a daze of regrets and yearnings.

Rain.

Time.

Was there a path through the thicket? Was it possible?

A hand grasped my arm. “Roddy!”

Rain.

“Roddy, come awake!” An insistent shake. I blinked.

Elryc peered up at me. “You were in a stupor. I couldn’t wake you.”

My eyes were wild, and I laughed.

“Don’t! You scare me!”

Reluctantly, I closed my hands, let droplets splash into the puddle. “I’m all right, brother.”

“Come inside.”

“Yes, before you catch your death of cold. Hester would be furious.” I rumpled Elryc’s hair, laughed anew. “I know the way. Oh, it’s not certain, but it’s a chance!”

“What?”

“The way to Stryx!”

His eyes darted about. “Have imps stolen your soul? What way?”

I caught him by the shoulders, danced him madly about the parapet. “To the throne!”

E
LRYC IN TOW, I DASHED
up the stairs to my room, dripping and exultant. “Garst! Warm towels from the hearth, and call Anavar to help peel these sopping clothes!”

The Eiberian got to his feet readily enough. “I’ll help you. Anavar’s with the Lady Soushire.”

“Impudence! I told you both—”

Rustin appeared in the doorway. “What irks you now?”

I scowled, but my jubilation was beyond quenching. “Anavar’s gone downstairs without my leave, is all. Rust, this jerkin sticks like fresh sap. Help me pull.”

Silent and glum, he did so. Eyes dancing, I pulled his face close to whisper my secret, but he jerked free his head, downed my hand with a sharp slap. “Don’t act the fool, Roddy.”

Like splintered glass my mood crashed. I tore the drying cloth from Garst’s hand. “As you wish.” I tried not to sound sullen, but gave it up. “Will you tell Soushire I would see her, or must I send Garst for that?”

“Oh, I’ll go. Choose garb finer than you wore this morning, and if you eat again, try this time to keep the egg off your shirt.” He left.

Garst helped dry my back. “He seems annoyed with you.”

“Don’t insert yourself in our affairs. Gather those wet towels.” I waited until he was gone. “Elryc, what comes over people sometimes?”

“I’ve oft wondered.” My brother finished drying himself. “You were in such high spirits, then ...”

“Dress well, Elryc. I’ll want you with me for the interview.”

His meager chest swelled. “I won’t be long. Wait for me.” He trotted to his chamber to dress.

Outside, the downpour had finally eased to a drizzle. The sun made valiant effort to break through the swirling clouds, but in the keep the deserted and ill-lit banquet chamber was silent and gloomy. Elryc’s hand crept into mine. Rustin, still cool, walked ahead.

“Ah, there you are.” Lady Soushire, a torchbearer lighting her way. “Could we not wait ’til midday meal?” Her belly preceded her across the hall. “I had a chat with your Eiberian. Did you know his father is cousin to Tantroth himself? What a capture.” She eased herself into her accustomed place. To the torchbearer, “Set it in the sconce and go.”

Past the window, servants and boys called to their mates, but all I could hear was the thudding of my heart. Yearning for wine, anything, I licked my lips. “Your ambition for Groenfil,” I said. “Can it be dissuaded?”

“No.”

I paced, to calm my nerves. “Will you settle for any small concession, rather than the whole?”

“No.”

“Well, then,” I said. “What do you wish of me? Acquiescence?”

Rustin stiffened in his chair, his eyes radiating a bleak dismay.

“More than that, Rodrigo. The armed might of Caledon, to secure the Duchy of Groenfil for my House, and your authorization and recognition of my conquest.” She folded her arms across her ample paunch.

“At the moment I have no force to lend, other than my paltry escort.”

“Not so paltry that it didn’t fend off ambush by Tantroth’s regiment. But I understand your fulfillment must wait until the crown is secure on your head.”

“Very well, I—”

“Roddy.” Rustin’s voice, subdued. “Please.”

The interruption threatened my moment of triumph. My voice turned harsh. “No, it’s decided, if Soushire meets my conditions.”

The Duchess stirred. “I won’t vary my terms.”

“They’re minor. I’ll want funds, until the treasury is mine, and—”

“How much?”

I hadn’t thought that far. “Negotiate with Lord Rustin,” I said airily. “I’ll ratify what he approves. My other condition is simple. For your conquest of Groenfil—as I assume the current Earl would object—I’ll provide the same number of troops you send me to defend my realm against usurpation, and to repel Tantroth after I’m crowned.”

“I need enough men-at-arms to hurl Groenfil off his land.”

“Then raise half that number, to fight for me and Caledon when the time comes.”

She made no objection, so I took a deep breath. “Now do I, Rodrigo, vow by the True of Caledon which I hold dear ...” I swore, by my Power, to aid and ratify her conquest of Groenfil.