Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I (38 page)

The Vulde
nodded curtly, “Hysgode, true enough. But you shall do no such
thing. Little harm has come to Delizra, thanks to these men. I am
not sure that the little scare hasn’t toughened Delizra up some.”
He smiled affectionately. “On another note, I am glad you are here.
I wish that you escort these ‘ragbeards’ to the guest chambers.
They are to be spared no expense in luxury or convenience.”

The nobleman’s
eyes popped out of their sockets. “I find the courtesy
overreaching. The task is menial and I am of title to renege a duty
such as this while scandalous villains are—”

“Scandalous
villains, eh?” the Vulde cried. “Did I not say they were heroes?”
He lifted a quivering finger. “Summon my staff. See that the guests
are given fresh linen and changes of clothes and warm viands. Until
further notice, they are to be considered esteemed guests, with
rank at Silsoor, and by you too. I shall suffer no further
complaints or slanders upon their honour!”

Hysgode dipped
his head with confusion.

A guard held
up a fistful of coins. “Look, Vulde! I have discovered these coins
upon this redbeard—it appears wealth obtained from our own
coffers.”

“What? How do
you know they are our own?” barked the Vulde.

“They bear our
seal, lord. You can see for yourself.” He lifted a gold sequin to
the light. The Vulde eyed the coin with scowling scrutiny. The
watchman’s aides stepped eagerly aside as he frowned upon the
pieces. He emitted a cry of acrimony. Snarling now, they laid hands
on Baus and searched his person too. They discovered a similar
hefty pouch of more of the same, and briskly they secured his arms.
To Baus’s distress, they discovered Lolispar and the ganglestick
and confiscated them.

Baus flung off
the invasive hands with disgust. “Here, fools!” he cried. “Are
wayfarers suddenly forbidden to carry weapons and gold? As for the
coins, they are easily explained.”

“And how is
that?” growled the Vulde. He tapped his foot wrathfully.

“Simple. My
colleague and I were out returning them to your chest. It was all
part of the diseased Dakkaw’s cunning plan. ‘If I am to have a
bride, I demand a dowry as bountiful as her beauty!’ quoth he. Then
he grinned meaningfully at us and ordered us to steal the coins.
‘And to what better source should I peer than the Vulde’s own
coffers?’ No sooner uttered, he guffawed in uproarious delight.

“To this
audacity, we replied, ‘No, Dakkaw, we respect the Lord Vulde’s
property. The risks you describe are precipitous, the deed is much
too precarious and recklessly exploitative for us to commit.’ Once
again the ogre chortled and forced us on to the town so that we
might raid your repository and carry his spoils.”

Valere
endorsed the statement with urgent nods and hums.

The Vulde
scowled, peering from one to the other, as if searching for any
half truths.

Baus held up a
reassuring palm. “Look Vulde, we delivered you the ogre and now
your wealth. Is this not enough to show us your good faith?”

The Vulde
stroked his stony chin in ever shrewder calculation. “’Twas
dilatory.” Searching for any tremor of a fib, he grew indecisive.
“Perhaps you recount snatches of deeds that may be true—but
something in this business of ‘cunning plans’ and ‘exploitative
deeds’ smacks of fallacy. This tall tale of yours being even
minutely true, is a fantastic stretch of the imagination . . .”

The lord
approached the burglars, curious to examine Baus’s weapon, the
golden gladius, which Tulesio, his chamberlain and bodyguard, now
handed him with courteous regard. “A fine sword, Baus—an antique
weapon if I’m not mistaken. The neomancer runes are inscribed
uniquely on the tang. It is of peculiar interest. From one of the
southern kingdoms, I suspect—Loust? Aurenham? The blade’s cast
escapes my memory. Wherever did you acquire this rare piece?”

Baus bowed in
stately deference. “A gift, my lord—from a deceased uncle who was
well known for his exotic travels beyond the realm of Arnin. I
believe he mentioned, ‘Desenion’ at one time or other.”

The Vulde
seemed impressed by the reference. “Indeed—a marvellous gift.”

“’Tis,” Baus
affirmed. “And the item which your underling grips so crassly, is
nothing more than a knick-knack, a gaud which I carry on my person
for sentimental reasons.” He snatched for the ebon ganglestick. The
guard fingered the shaft of the rod, pulling it away. Inadvertently
his fingers touched the tip and he stood frozen like a stunned
rabbit. Baus shot forward, snatching the wand away, thus breaking
the spell. The watchman teetered back in muttering confusion,
glaring about with perplexity.

With certain
definite distaste, the nobleman Hysgode flourished a hand
pompously. “Vulde, I beseech you to seize these vagrants and
confiscate their weapons. They are obviously deceitful opportunits.
I sense their character is of low breed no less. We know little of
them—so it demands an investigation. At minimum they should be held
for questioning, at least until we have analyzed this situation at
length. The strange wand, for example—it harbours the marks of the
macabre!”

Delizra cried
out keenly: “Will you not let me have a moment to explain? These
two men, as I have stated, protected me from the ogre. They may
appear dishevelled, but they are my saviours no less.”

The Vulde
addressed his daughter with keen courtesy. “There is something in
what you say, Delizra. Forsooth, it would be an inexcusable breach
of etiquette to betray our trust of visitors without significant
evidence of guilt. Our own town of Krintz has always been hospice
to wanderers, young and old.” He turned a glance upon Baus. “You
may keep your curio, Baus, but for the time being I will withhold
the golden gladius. I am entrusting it to Tulesio until I know more
about the part you have played in this imbroglio.”

Hysgode
winced. “I believe you speak too liberally for these vagabonds,
sir.”

The Vulde’s
lips parted with fury and prompted Hysgode to make a hasty
alteration to his statement, “Of course, it is only my opinion that
they are rogues. If ill comes of this venture though—”

“‘Ill’ shall
not come of it, Hysgode! Now curb your insufferable misgivings. I
tolerate your sanctimony only because you are to be my daughter’s
spouse, as much a mistake as that may be.”

Glowering, the
nobleman lowered his gaze. His eyes flashed with rancour on the
intruders, a gesture that was not missed by Baus or Valere. It
appeared that to irritate the Vulde at this sensitive time was a
foolish course and Hysgode set his grimace into a harsher mask. At
the moment, a young, corpulent woman waltzed into the room—a woman
of such dominant bearing and dressed so flimsily bare in a white
silk nightgown and pale brown moccasins that had all blinking in
embarrassment. Disturbed by the tumult from across the hall, she
had quickly learned that Delizra had been nearly kidnapped by the
ogre and Baus had heard the name Griselda mentioned—the Vulde’s
oldest daughter. Where Delizra was dazzling, Griselda was squat and
plump and borderline obese, with ox-like features and maturing
harelip and an indecorous mass of flesh gracing her abdomen;
withal, a maid with qualities considerably less than desirable—as
facts would have it, traits inherited from her mother.

Griselda
squared beefy hands on hips and roared out a mighty oath: “Thieves
and monsters in the night! Glory told! No good has come of Mother’s
absence from this gloomy house!”

“Nor any harm
either,” soothed the Vulde. “Now, Griselda, please go back to
bed.”

“I will do
nothing of the sort.” She gave her sister a cold appraisal and
brushed the two trespassers a look of carnal inquiry. Baus was
taken by surprise at the attention, no less, Valere. The two
shifted uncomfortably, clearing their throats.

The lascivious
hints were not missed by the Vulde who grimaced and consoled his
daughter, but the efforts seemed fraught with hostility.

Hysgode
grudgingly escorted Baus and Valere down a narrow hall into the
common room, then to negotiate the wide, luxurious staircase which
led to the upper chambers, while the lord stayed behind to see
Delizra and Griselda to bed. At the top of the landing, the butler
Velnar intercepted them. Baus took opportunity to scan the lavish
surroundings. Over the railing a knot of fifteen retainers
clustered about the hearth, now roaring with flame. Amongst the
figures, members of the town watch clanked about the salon with
swords and bills. They were brusque, fastidious men with bright
red- and green-liveried costumes. Baus saw the Vulde emerging from
Griselda’s room and heard snippets of conversation given to the
watchmen to bind and secure the Dakkaw’s limbs with extra cord.

Delaying no
longer, Hysgode acquired the key from the butler and prompted Baus
and Valere down the hallway. Mahogany doors lay shaded under a
yellow glow of lamps. Lanterns seemed carved into the walls
themselves. At the far end of the hall, another stair wound to a
third storey, on which Baus speculated other guest chambers
existed. A veritable palace! Silsoor was possibly even as capacious
as Bisiguth. On the second floor they halted at a fourth doorway
which bore a filigreed window graced with an opaque pane of glass.
Baus paused to study Hysgode with care as he fussed about with key
and lock. While engrossed, Baus took opportunity to brush the back
of his neck with the ganglestick and the nobleman crouched frozen
stiff. Now, stooped ingloriously, he became a susceptible target
for Baus’s pranks, with Baus skipping about, miming various
ludicrous acts.

Valere jigged
about in equal jocularity. The seaman was ready to kick Hysgode in
the rump, when Velnar approached, carrying a silver tray laden with
hot sweetcakes. The butler’s eyes bulged in horror. “I demand to
know the meaning of this rude behaviour!”

Baus and
Valere halted their antics. They stood amiably in their tracks,
framing low whistles and coos.

The butler
grumbled hideously and stuffed the platter into Valere’s hands as
he leaned over to shake Hysgode out of his torpor. “Sir? Why do you
stoop like a common hound? Are you ill?” Evincing no response, the
butler tapped him on the back. Hysgode immediately jerked to life,
snapping back his head. Life flushed back to the nobleman’s limbs
and he peered at the intruders with more sinister suspicion. Their
all-too-seraphic looks irked him. Velnar’s vacant gaze was no less
idiotic.

“Well, what
are you looking at?” he shrilled. The butler shrank back. The
nobleman thrust the guests’ door open and beckoned them inside. The
door slammed shut and the nobleman departed with a tramp of angry
footsteps.

Baus loosed an
easy breath. “Well, that’s that.” Regarding his new surroundings,
Baus grinned a fish’s grin. The ceilings were high, the furnishings
posh. Indeed the chambers were as lavish as any he had seen,
particularly compared to Heagram prison and Bisiguth. He felt his
mood improving by the second.

Valere shook
his head at the brazenness of Baus’s chicanery.

Three sizeable
double beds were strung out with fresh linen; woollen covers were
folded along the far wall. The beds were well-cushioned, raised to
a comfortable level above a polished hardwood floor. Baus found the
adjustment a tasteful touch, no less the portraits that hung on the
walls. To left and right the House of Vulde and related figures
abounded; behind floated a large tapestry stitched in goat’s-wool
embroidery; a green, winged serpent and a lone albatross took
centre stage with abstract floral design.

Stepping
aside, Baus drew back the drapes to reveal two tall violet panes
overlooking the court. Woybur’s obelisk dominated the scene below.
Its silvery tip reared another storey above and Baus saw the Dakkaw
secured in the plaza with arms and legs bound with stout cord, his
torso manacled to the stone spire. Around Voydram’s fountain an
indefinite number of sacks were spread—doubtless a second defence
of onion and shallot should the ogre manage to miraculously break
loose, though the prospect seemed remote.

The court was
bathed in a sullen grey moonlight. Lurid torchlight winked off the
taverners’ weapons and metal pales were hoisted everywhere.
Villagers had come to gawk and spit at the captive.

The Dakkaw
took the abuse with stoic poor grace. Even from this height, his
emotion was seething latently and made him seem all the more
forbidding. Baus shivered. He would not want to be in the grip of
those vice-like hands. He saw the fleshy lips working with venomous
energy, mirroring a mind full of retributive intents.

He knew that
these hale men tempted death.

Quietly he
closed the drapes. He turned his attention to the captain, who for
all intents and purposes, was now dragging himself onto the bed and
giving himself a last gust of thanks. “Shame that we lost the
plunder, Baus. But if it’s any consolation, looks like we may have
to settle for being mere heroes in the eyes of Lord Vulde.”

Baus offered a
bland assent. “Our ‘Vulde’ doesn’t trust us much, Valere—remember
my confiscated sword?”

Valere
grinned. “Who would? A couple of dirty fops caught in his
daughter’s bedroom in the wee hours of night? I’d say not. We’re
doing quite well, Baus, considering the circumstance. You can
relax—you’ve only lost a little bodkin in the bargain and we’re
stuck in the Lord’s hoity-toity mansion. What of it? You may never
see the blade again. We should be lucky to be alive, thanks to your
fancy bit of mummery back there.”

Baus’s lack of
immediate response was a statement in itself. “Nothing that
couldn’t have been done by any person given a healthy lust for
life.”

Valere gave a
sardonic caw. “I hardly think so. Your prevaricating goes beyond
any reason of expertise in the area. The last stunt with Hysgode
was a little rich though.”