Glen Cook - Dread Empire 07 - An Ill Fate Marshalling

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侵权投诉

FATAL FLAW

„You really are scared,“ Michael said, „aren’t you?“

„Ragnorson’s never quite rational about women,“ Prataxis replied. „And there are so many women

involved this time that I can’t pretend to predict his behavior.

„Nepanthe. Mist. Inger. Kristen. Sherilee. Each pulling Bragi in a different direction, and each a danger. Nepanthe

cost us Varthlokkur’s help. Mist nearly killed Bragi during the coup, then went away, taking that source of support.

Queen Inger has turned like a mad dog.

Kristen’s scheming to have her son designated crown prince. And this—thing—with Sherilee has him completely

distracted at a time when every minute has to be devoted to keeping the king dom on a steady course.“

Michael nodded. „And now there’s Yasmid, pulling him into the desert.“

Prataxis dropped into a chair. „What are we going to do?“

Look for these TOR Books by Glen Cook

THE BLACK COMPANY

an ill fate marshalling

reap the east wind

shadows linger

the white rose

GLEN COOK

An Ill Fate Marshalling

TOR

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance

to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

First printing: January 1988 A TOR Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc. 49 West 24th Street New York, NY 10010

ISBN: 0-812-53379-8 Can. No.: 0-812-53380-1

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

0987654321

Prologue;

Year 1013 After the Founding of the Empire of Hkazar: Castle Greyfells in Duchy

Greyfells, in Northern Itaskia

THE COLONEL STALKED through the quiet corridors, each step charged with the nervous energy of

a caged panther. Ser vants got out of his path, turned to watch after he passed. His tension

surrounded him with an aura of danger.

He reached the door of the chamber to which he had been summoned. He stared at it, rose onto

the balls of his feet, settled back. He was afraid of what might lie on the other side. This was

more than the portal to a room. It was a doorway to tomorrow, and he didn’t like the smell of it.

Something was afoot. He had come to the castle last evening, and had found it infested with

tension. The Duke was planning something. His people were scared. All the recent Dukes had

become involved in schemes that failed, and each failure had brought violence down on the

family and its retainers.

The Colonel steeled himself, knocked.

„Enter.“

He stepped inside. Six men were seated along the sides of a long table. The Duke himself sat at

the table’s head. He gestured, indicating the seat at the table’s foot. The Colonel sat down.

The Duke said, „Now I’ll end the speculation. Our cousin Inger has received an offer of

marriage.“

One of the others asked, „That’s why all the whispers and night messengers? Pardon me, Dane,

but that seems a little. . . .“

„Let me expand. You’ll see why it’s a matter for the highest family councils.

„Our cousin nursed in a hospital during the siege of the City by Shinsan’s forces. She became

romantically involved

with a patient. Rather a torrid affair, I gather, though she was understandably reluctant to part

with details. When the siege broke and the war moved southward, she thought it was over. She

heard nothing from the man. The usual story. Used by a soldier who moved on.

„But four days ago she received a proposal of marriage from the man. She thought it over, then

came to me for advice.

„Gentlemen, the gods have smiled on the family at last. They’ve handed us a golden opportunity.

Our cousin’s suitor is Bragi Ragnarson, Marshall of Kavelin, who commanded the allied armies

during the Great Eastern Wars.“ Dead silence held the room for half a minute. The Colonel didn’t

even breath. Ragnarson. Blood enemy of the Greyfells for a generation. Responsible for the

assassination of one Duke and the bloody abortion of half a dozen family projects. Probably the

man most hated by everyone in the room, saving himself. He was just a soldier. He didn’t hate

anyone.

He began to sense the shape of the shadow and didn’t like it. It was in the tradition of Greyfells

schemes.

The six all started talking at once. The Duke held up a hand. „Please?“ He waited. Then,

„Gentlemen, if that news isn’t enough to excite you, consider this. Those fools down there are

going to make him King. They couldn’t find anybody else willing to take the crown. Do you see?

This is an opportunity not only to avenge ourselves on an ancient enemy, it’s a chance to steal the

crown of the richest and most strategically placed of the Lesser Kingdoms. A chance for us to

move our base out of Itaskia entirely and free ourselves of the miserable nuisance of a perpetually

inimi cal Crown. A chance to seize the most important counter in the conflict between east and

west. A chance to recoup the greatness we’ve lost.“

The Duke’s excitement communicated itself to the men at the sides of the table. The Colonel was

less intrigued. Here was more Greyfells dirty work, and he had a feeling he would be asked to

carry part of the load. Why else was he here?

The Duke said, „The simple, basic question is, should we let our cousin accept?“ He smiled. „Or,

do we dare not let her? It would be a sin to ignore an opportunity like this.

Eh?“

No one demurred. Someone said, „But we couldn’t just let it go and hope.“

„Of course not. Inger would be the lever. The foot in the door. The distraction. Right now she just

wants to see her leman again, but I imagine we can get her to be the family’s agent. For

insurance, and to take charge of the day-to-day details, I suggest we send the Colonel here.“

The Colonel kept his features rigidly controlled. So there it was. And it stunk. There were times

when he wished he didn’t owe this family a debt of loyalty.

The Duke asked, „Can anyone propose a reason why we shouldn’t pursue the policy I’m

suggesting?“

Heads shook. One man said, „Something as good as this, you needn’t have asked.“

„I wanted unanimity of purpose going in. Carried, then? Pursue the possibilities, at least till we

see some insuperable stumbling block?“

Heads nodded.

„Good. Fine.“ The Duke’s voice was silky with pleasure. „I thought you’d like it. That’s all for

now. Let me look into it further. Let me see if there are pitfalls. I’ll keep you posted. You can go

now.“ He leaned back. As everyone neared the door, „Oh. Don’t discuss this with anyone.

Anyone at all. Colonel, yes, I want you to stay.“

The Colonel had risen but not left the table. He seated himself again. He rested his forearms on

the tabletop and stared at a point over the Duke’s right shoulder.

Once the door closed, the Duke said, „Actually, we’re farther along than I admitted.

Babeltausque put me in touch with some old friends from the Pracchia days. They’ve agreed to

help.“ Babeltausque was a sorcerer in the family employ. The Colonel loathed him.

„That’s a strange face you’ve got there, Colonel. You don’t approve?“

„No, My Lord. I don’t trust the wizard.“

„Perhaps not. They’re a slimy, slippery breed. Neverthe less, we seem to have adequate resources

for the project. We have but to convert the woman and send her on her way.“

„I see.“

„I really do get the feeling that you don’t approve.“ „I’m sorry, My Lord. I don’t mean to appear

negative.“ „Then you’ll take the mission? You’ll go to Kavelin on our behalf? You’ll be away for

years.“ „I am yours to command, My Lord.“ And how he wished he were not. But one had to pay

one’s dues. „Good. Good. Make yourself free of the castle. I’ll keep you posted on

developments.“ The Colonel rose, bowed slightly, left the room smartly. A soldier doesn’t ask, he

told himself. A soldier obeys. And I, sadly, am a soldier in the Duke’s employ.

Year 1016 AFE; Rulers

BRAGI GROANED. Inger shook him again. „Come on, Your Kingship. Get up.“

He cracked a lid. One glassless window stared back with a cold eye. „It’s still dark out.“

„It just looks like it.“

He grumbled as his feet hit the chilly floor. It was one of those ice-bottom days, going to turn

hellfire come after noon. He gathered the bearskin round him and told himself there had to be a

point to rising.

It was springtime in Kavelin. The days were hot and the nights were cold. The weather was foul

more often than not.

Bragi yawned, tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. „It raining? My head feels like it’s packed

with wool.“

„I wouldn’t argue with that. Yes. One of your steady Kaveliner drizzles.“

He said what everybody always said. „Be good for the farmers.“

She completed the ritual. „We need it.“ She posed. „Not bad for an old broad, eh?“

„Pretty good. For a wife.“ There was no heart in his jest.

Her too-small mouth fashioned a pout. „What do you mean, for a wife?“

His grin was as grey as he felt. „You know what they say. That old grass always looks greener.“

„You grazing in somebody else’s pasture?“

„What?“ He heaved himself to his feet, stumbled round looking for his clothing.

„Last night was only the second time this month.“

He gave it the light treatment. „I’m getting old.“

Something inside cawed sarcastically. He was fooling himself, not her. A nasty black chasm

yawned at his feet. Trouble was, he did not know if it was waiting for him to try

jumping over or if he was on the other side looking back. „Is it another woman, Ragnarson?“

There wasn’t any kitten in her now. She was all bitch cat. The habitual brittle smile had left her

lips.

„No.“ For once he was telling the truth. He didn’t have a single little round-heel on the string.

The soft curves, the warm mounds, the humid thighs did not set the fires roaring these days. They

seemed more a distraction than a reason able interest. They irritated more than excited. Was it

symptomatic of age? Time was an implacable thief. Ragnarson’s growing indifference worried

him. The de parture of the drive to collect scalps left a vacuum like the loss of an old friend.

„You’re sure?“

„Absodamnlutely, as friend Mocker might have said.“ „I wish I had met him,“ she mused.

„Haroun, too. Maybe I’d know you better by knowing them.“ „You should’ve known them. . . .“

„You’re changing the subject.“

„Honey, I haven’t had no strange in so long I wouldn’t know what to do. Probably just stand

there with my thumb in my ear till the lady cussed me out.“

Inger whipped a comb through her hair. Blonde rat’s nests grabbed it. She was wondering. He

had come tagged with a reputation, but had not lived up to it.

Maybe he was too busy. Kavelin was his extramarital lover. She was a demanding mistress.

He eyed this woman who was both his wife and Kavelin’s Queen. She was the one gift the wars

had given him. Time had done well by her. She was a tall, elegant woman of brittle beauty and

even more brittle humor. She had the most intriguing mouth he had ever seen. No matter her

mood, her lips seemed on the verge of a sarcastic smile. Something about her green eyes

magnified that foreshadow of laughter.

First glance said she was a lady. Second might suggest an earthy soul. She was an enigma, an

intriguing creature hiding inside a shell that betrayed a new mystery each time it opened. Bragi

thought her as perfect a Queen as a King could ask. She had been born for the role.

That secret smile came out of hiding. „You just might be telling the truth.“

„Of course I am.“

„And you’re disappointed, eh?“

He did not answer that one. She had a knack for caging him with questions he did not want to

answer. „Maybe you’d better check the baby.“

„You’re ducking the issue again.“

„Damned right.“

„All right. I’ll let up. What’s on for today?“ She insisted on being a full participant in royal

affairs. He was new to the kinging business. Coping with a strong-willed woman com plicated his

task.

His circle of old comrades agreed. Some had strong opinions about Inger’s „interference.“

She returned from the nursery. She carried their son Fulk. „He was sleeping like a rock. Now he

wants to be fed.“

Bragi slipped an arm around her. He stared down at the infant. Babies were still a wonder to him.

Fulk was his first by Inger, and her first ever. He was a lusty six-monther. Bragi told Inger, „I’m

having the whole mob in about Derel’s message this morning. After lunch I’m supposed to play

Captures.“

„In this weather?“

„They challenged. It’s up to them to call it off.“ He began lacing his boots. „They’re good

mudders.“

„Aren’t you a little old for it?“

„I don’t know.“ Maybe he was past it. The reflexes were going. The muscles could not take it the

way they had. Maybe he was an old man with one hand desperately clamped on an illusion of

youth. He did not enjoy Captures much. „What about you?“

„Terminal boredom. And it won’t stop till the Thing adjourns. I feel like a governess.“

He forbore reminding her that she had demanded the right to entertain the delegates’ women.

Commencement for the spring session was a week away, but the wealthier members were in town

already, sampling Vorgreberg’s social possibilities.

Bragi said, „I’m going to get something to eat.“ He was an informal King. He had no patience

with pomp and ceremo ny, and very little with the luxuries his position afforded. His was a

warriorly background. He strove to maintain a spartan, soldierly self-image.

„Don’t I get a kiss?“

„Thought you’d be kissed out.“

„Never. Fulk too!“

He kissed the baby, left.

Maybe Fulk was the problem. He pondered it as he descended the stair. The battle had begun

during the name-choosing. He had lost that round.

It had been a difficult birth. Inger wanted no more children. He did, though he did not consider

himself a good father.

Too, Inger was worried about Fulk’s patrimony. He was born of Ragnarson’s second marriage.

Bragi had three older offspring, and a grandson named Bragi. The latter might as well have been

his own child. His father, Ragnarson’s firstborn, had perished at Palmisano.

The King’s first family lived at his private house, outside Vorgreberg proper. His son’s widow

managed the place and youngsters. He had not visited them in weeks. „Have to get out there

soon,“ he muttered. His inattention to his chil dren was one of the few guilts he suffered.

He made a mental note to solicit a legal opinion from his secretary, Derel Prataxis, as soon as the

man returned from his mission.

Ragnarson had led a charmed life. He thought his luck overdue to change. It was part of that fear

of growing old. The edge was going. The reactions were slowing. The instincts might not be

trustworthy. His mortality was catch ing up.

Maybe he could negotiate some succession understanding during the Thing’s session. They had

not made the kingship hereditary when they had dragooned him into it.

He approached the castle’s main kitchen. Strong smells and a loud voice emanated from its open

door.

„Yeah. That’s no lie. Yeah. Nine women in one day. You know what I mean. In twenty-four

hours. Yeah. I was a young man then. Fourteen days on a transport. I never even saw a woman,

let alone had one. Yeah. You don’t believe me, but it’s the truth. Nine women in one day.“

Ragnarson smiled. Someone had Josiah Gales cranked up. On purpose, no doubt. He was a one-

man show when he got going. He grew louder and louder, flinging his arms around, dancing,

stomping, rolling his eyes as he underscored every statement physically.

Josiah Gales. Sergeant of infantry. Bowman supreme. Minor cog in the palace machine. One of

two hundred soldiers and skilled artisans Inger had brought as dowry because her cadet line of

Itaskia’s Greyfells family had fallen into genteel poverty.

He smiled again. They were still laughing up north, thinking themselves rid of an unruly woman

cheaply, while gaining a connection with a prized crown.

The unseen sergeant whooped on. „Fourteen days at sea. I was ready. How many women you had

in one day? I wasn’t showing off. I was working. Yeah. That seventh one. I still remember her.

Yeah. Moaning and clawing. She’s going, ‘Oh! Oh! Gales! Gales! I can’t take anymore.’ Yeah.

That’s the truth. Nine women in one day. In twenty-four hours. I was a young man then.“

Gales repeated himself over and over. The more wound up he was, the more he did so, mouthing

every sentence at least once to everyone within hearing. His audience seldom minded.

Bragi approached the duty cook. „Skrug. Any chicken left from last night? I just want something

to snack on.“

The cook nodded. He jerked his chin in Gales’ direction. „Nine women in one day.“

„I’ve heard this one before.“

„What do you think?“

„He’s consistent. He doesn’t make it bigger when he retells it.“

„You were at Simballawein when the Itaskians landed, weren’t you?“

„It was Libiannin. I didn’t run into Gales. I would’ve remembered him.“

The cook laughed. „He does make an impression.“ He produced a tray of cold chicken. „This do

the job, Sire?“

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摘要：

FATALFLAW„Youreallyarescared,“Michaelsaid,„aren’tyou?“„Ragnorson’sneverquiterationalaboutwomen,“Prataxisreplied.„AndtherearesomanywomeninvolvedthistimethatIcan’tpretendtopredicthisbehavior.„Nepanthe.Mist.Inger.Kristen.Sherilee.EachpullingBragiinadifferentdirection,andeachadanger.NepanthecostusVarthl...

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