The Two of Swords: Part 10 (8 page)

Frontizo replied that Forza was far too smart to go for something that was so obviously too good to be true. It had TRAP written all over it in letters of burnished bronze, and Forza could read. No, what Forza was doing was really quite subtle. Instead of taking the bait when he was supposed to, namely right away, before Senza got smart and changed his mind, he was deliberately biding his time. He’d guessed or learned that Senza had brought all his provisions with him, instead of depending on a traditional line of supply; he was waiting till Senza had eaten his very last biscuit and had no option but to give up and go home, and then he’d strike.

“Which is where he’s gone wrong, of course,” Frontizo went on. “Thanks to everybody in the West being scared stiff of us, the countryside’s deserted for miles around, we can send out our foragers and help ourselves to the standing corn. We’ve got two thousand men out right now, harvesting wheat. Also, the local peasantry bolted so quick, they neglected to empty their larders first. We can sit here in comfort till Forza’s realised he’s made a mistake, and by then Rasch will be starving and he’ll have to do something; or else we actually take Rasch, and then Forza won’t be a general any more.”

Oida looked at him. “You don’t suppose Forza really is dead, do you?”

Frontizo shook his head. “He’s alive,” he said. “Trust me.” He yawned, and lifted the lid off the teapot. “That’s enough shop talk for one day,” he said. “How about a game of cards?”

“If you like.”

“Do you know a game called Cartwheels?”

Oida thought quickly. Ever since he’d given away all his money, only to find he probably wasn’t going to die after all, he’d been wondering how to raise his travelling expenses back to civilisation without having to beg or steal. The way Frontizo dressed when off duty had tagged him as a viable mark, but Oida hadn’t wanted to make the suggestion himself for fear of looking predatory. “I used to play it when I was a kid,” he said truthfully. “But that was many years ago.”

“It’ll come back to you,” Frontizo said cheerfully, producing a worn-looking pack painted on thin lime board. “Basically it’s just Catch-Me, but prides beat straights and sevens are wild.”

Oida did his apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t got any money,” he said. “But we can play for olives or something.”

“I think I can risk taking your marker,” Frontizo said. “I’ll deal, shall I?”

Oida played it classical, losing the first four hands and exhibiting a weakness for over-cautious bidding. Frontizo, he observed, was a twitcher, but it seemed certain he hadn’t realised. Oida did a quick calculation of how much a senior staff officer could afford to lose without feeling aggrieved.

Frontizo dealt the fifth hand, and Oida frowned. Almost too good to be true. He played cautiously to start with, until all four sevens were accounted for and there remained nothing at all that could beat his pride of red kings and jacks. “Double that,” he said. “It is all right to double now, isn’t it?”

Frontizo laughed. “You can if you like,” he said. “I’m sure you’re good for the money.”

Oida was enormously tempted to enjoy himself for a bit, but decided not to. “In that case,” he said, “I’ll double and raise ten.”

“Fifty.”

Twitch, twitch. Much more of this and the fool would wipe himself out, which could lead to bad feeling. “I think I’ll see you,” he said, and turned over his last covered card. “King of Spears.”

But Frontizo nodded, as though they’d rehearsed all this before, and flipped his card over.

It was the Seven of Swords.

There is no suit of Swords in the regulation pack.

Frontizo grinned. “And sevens are wild, so that’s my trick, making five, so I win. You owe me one hundred and sixty-one angels.”

Oida stared at the card, then at the fool sitting opposite. “You’re Lodge,” he said.

Frontizo flipped the seven face downwards, then tucked it up his sleeve. “Don’t want to leave something like that lying about,” he said, “just in case. Yes, I am.”

“You bastard. Why didn’t you—?”

Frontizo frowned. “Oh come on,” he said. “Actually, I was fairly sure you were Lodge from the start, but I couldn’t be certain. So I figured, if he’s Lodge I bet I know what he’s here for; in which case, he’s had a wasted trip and he could probably do with some money to go home on. Hence the game.”

Oida looked at him. “You knew about me?”

“Oh, I’m not supposed to, obviously,” he said. “But I happened to meet your brother a while back, and he sort of hinted. Don’t pull faces,” he added. “I know he’s the skeleton in your cupboard. But I’m good at keeping my mouth shut, believe it or not.”

Oida breathed out slowly. “And you reckon you know why I’m here.”

“I don’t think you’d have to be Saloninus to work that one out,” Frontizo said gravely. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about that any more. If it turns out that Senza needs killing, I’ll do it myself. Tastefully,” he added, “without undue fuss. Poison, or maybe an accident, even. I can get away with it, you can’t. In fact, I’ve got a choice of personal enemies lined up to take the blame, if it becomes necessary, which it won’t, I’m morally certain. So you can stop fretting yourself to death and relax.”

Oida grinned weakly. “How did you—?”

“One of these days, buy a mirror and take a look at yourself. Ever since you got here, you’ve been as jumpy as a rat in a kennel. People have been commenting on it. I tell them it’s because you’re a damn sight closer to the front lines than you’re used to being. You really ought to get a grip, though. You’re about as inscrutable as an inn sign.”

Oida was deeply shocked by that, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said. “I’d have done it if I had to, but I’m ever so glad to be let off the hook.”

“Of course you are,” Frontizo said. “Show me a man walking calmly and resolutely towards certain death and I’ll show you an idiot. Though I’m guessing you had something up your sleeve, a clever boy like you.”

“Actually, no.”

“Really? I’m disappointed. Assuming you’re telling the truth. Still, it’s all academic now, the burden’s been lifted off your shoulders and you can breathe again.” He smiled warmly and poured the last of the tea. “Did you really not guess who I was?”

“Absolutely not. I thought you were a loyal officer of the Eastern army.”

That got him a dirty look. “I am,” Frontizo said, “none more so, except where there’s a conflict of interests with the Lodge. Anyway, you surprise me. Didn’t it occur to you to wonder what an inveterate low-flier like me is doing attached to Senza’s elite strike force?”

Oida shrugged. “I assumed you’re someone’s brother-in-law.”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Frontizo laughed. “That’s why Senza thinks he’s saddled with me. At least, I don’t think he suspects, but you never know with that one. It’s not a comfortable posting, believe me. There are thousands of acres across two empires fertilised with the remains of people who thought they knew what Senza Belot was thinking. Still, that’s not your worry. I imagine you’ll be buggering off now. Nothing to keep you here.”

Oida looked startled. “I can leave?”

“No offence, but we’d be glad to see you go. Not that it hasn’t been a privilege and a pleasure, but you know what they say about guests and fish. I’ll file a favourable report about you with Division if I live that long. Now then, would you like a pen and some paper? You’ve got some writing to do.”

Oida wrote him a note for a hundred and sixty-one angels. Frontizo glanced at it and handed it back. “Better make that three hundred,” he said, “you’ll need some travelling money. Must be nice to be able to afford to troll round the place like the King of Permia, dining at all the best places.”

Oida took another sheet of parchment. “Are you sure it’s all right for me to go? After what I’ve seen and heard, I mean.”

Frontizo shook his head. “What you think you’ve seen,” he said. “We aren’t quite as stupid as you think we are. And what you’ve heard from me, and if anyone asks, all we talked about was the truth behind your reputation as the empire’s premier sex pest. Once you’d got started, I shall tell them, the problem was getting you to shut up. So, no, don’t worry about that, it’ll be fine.”

Oida stood up. The tea had gone cold and he felt like he’d been in a fight. “One thing,” he said. “Do you know Forza’s not dead? I mean, has someone actually seen him?”

“I’ll have the money for you in an hour.” Frontizo tapped the side of his nose. “Stick to singing your songs and running errands,” he said. “It’s what you’re good at. No offence.”

The money was in an old sock, military-issue, carefully darned. “You sure you can spare it?” Oida asked.

“It’s not like I’ll have anything to spend it on any time soon.”

“I meant the sock.”

That got him a smile. “Where to now, then?”

Oida put the sock in his pocket and folded down the flap. “Actually,” he said, “for the first time in a long while, I don’t really know. Never thought I’d get out of here alive, so—” He shrugged. “I think I can safely assume my tour of the Western home provinces is cancelled.”

“Yes. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t be,” Oida said. He checked the horse’s girth, then shortened the stirrup leathers. “Saves me having to sing the same ten songs another fifteen times. I’ll head back to Division, I guess, assuming I can get there, see if they’ve got anything for me. I was supposed to be going to Blemya at some point, but for all I know that’s off, too. I suppose I could wander up to Central and see a few old friends.”

Frontizo held the stirrup for him while he mounted. “I’ll say this for you,” he said, “you’re a brave man, in your own way. Did you really not have a back-up plan for getting out?”

Oida shook his head. “How could I? I didn’t know anything about the setup here when I arrived.”

Frontizo frowned, then grinned. “I’m an idiot,” he said. “Of course. You were going to pin it on me.”

“I didn’t know you properly then,” Oida said, gathering the reins. “And anyway, by that stage I was fairly sure I wasn’t going to have to do it myself. Nothing personal.”

“Indeed. While I think of it, I don’t like your music very much. All froth and no substance.” Frontizo looked at him for a moment. “Giving your life for the Cause,” he said. “I guess it depends on the quality of the life. In your case, I can see how you’d be prepared to do it. Not sure I could. Have a good trip.”

Oida hesitated. The camp gate was open, and the sentries on the gate said there was nothing on the road as far as the eye could see. “My brother.”

“What? Oh, yes. What about him?”

“When you saw him, was he all right?”

Frontizo shrugged. “Seemed to be. Nice chap, under all the swagger and bluster. I guess they run in the family.”

“On my mother’s side,” Oida said, nudging the horse with his heels. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“It wasn’t for you,” Frontizo said. “Safe journey.”

When Oida was out of sight, Frontizo went back to his tent, sat down at the low pile of boxes he used as a writing desk, pushed aside a mound of paperwork until he found a return-of-requisitions form he’d neglected for so long that it no longer mattered. He trimmed off the lower margin, the width of his thumb, then put an impossibly fine nib on his pen. Next he picked up a leather satchel off the floor; on the flap it had the insignia of the military mail, in thick paint just beginning to crack. He studied the strap for a moment; whoever had made the satchels for the mail had thoughtfully inserted a bit of cotton waste between the two halves of the strap before they were stitched together, as padding for the despatch rider’s neck. With the tip of his penknife, he slit the stitches and prised the seam open, just enough so that he could tease out the cotton. Then he went back to his scrap of salvaged parchment, and began to write.

Read on in
The Two of Swords: Part 11
.

K. J. Parker
is the pseudonym of Tom Holt, a full-time writer living in the south-west of England. When not writing, Holt is a barely competent stockman, carpenter and metalworker, a two-left-footed fencer, an accomplished textile worker and a crack shot. He is married to a professional cake decorator and has one daughter.

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