Dave Duncan - King's Blades 04 - Impossible Odds

Impossible Odds

By Dave Duncan

PROLOGUE

Awaken the Dead

The night was unusually dark. The day had been hot and clear, but heavy clouds had rolled in after

sunset to blot out the stars. There was no moon. In Chivial such nights were calledcatblinders.

The guard changed at midnight. In pitch darkness Mother Celandine, Sister Gertrude, and their escort

paraded through the grounds ofNocarePalace . Nocare’s gardens were de-servedly famous and

especially lovely now, at the start of Eighthmoon, except that they were totally invisible. Al-though Trudy

was catching enough scents of night-flowering plants—stock, evening primrose, possibly

moonflower—to tell her what she was missing, the lanterns carried by the two footmen leading the way

illuminated only the paved path underfoot and mere hints of shrubbery.

The four men-at-arms of the Household Yeomen marching noisily at the rear she considered an

unnecessary precaution, because any evil-intentioned intruder who glimpsed her and the majestic Mother

Celandine in their voluminous white robes and steeple hats was likely to run screaming off into the

2Dave Duncan

darkness, gibbering about ghosts. Besides, one of them was wearing a talisman that jangled her nerves

like a tortured cat. In the few days since she had arrived at Court she had been appalled by the number

of people who put their trust in such quackery. Good luck charms would attract bad luck as often as

good, because chance was elemental. Educated people ought to know this. Other than that, midnight

prowling was rather fun. Sour old Mother Celandine must not be finding it so, for she had barely spoken

a word since they met.

The White Sisters were rarely required to use their conjuration-detecting skills in the middle of the night.

Nighttime security was normally a male sport—the Yeomen guarding the gates and the grounds, the

Blades patrolling the inside of the palace—but now the King was entertaining an important guest and

either he or someone in his train had been tactless enough to include conjurements in his bag-gage.

Anyone else would have been reprimanded and made to turn them in, but a Grand Duke had to be

humored. So the White Sisters’ help was required, and Sister Gertrude was the most junior Sister in

attendance at Court. Tonight Mother Celandine would supervise and instruct. Thereafter Trudy would

have the night honors all to herself.

It was only a formality.

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Two lights came into view and soon resolved themselves into torches set in sconces on either side of an

imposing doorway, the entrance to Quamast House. The Grand Duke had been lodged a long way from

the main palace, and Sir Bernard had assured Trudy that this was the Blades’ doing. Most visitors were

bunked in the West Wing, but the Blades never took chances with unidentified spirituality.

Under each sconce stood a pike man in shiny breastplate and conical steel hat. The one on the right

stamped his boots, advanced one of them a pace, lowered his halberd, and pro-claimed, “Who goes

there?”

3Impossible Odds

That was a very stupid question when he knew the answer already. The Royal Guard scorned such

folderol as pass-words, Bernard had told her, because they all knew one an-other and because they tried

to do nothing the Yeomen did, or at least never in the way the Yeomen did it.

“The nightingale sings a sad song!” Sergeant Bates pro-claimed at Trudy’s back. That was not true,

because nightin-gales had finished singing back in Fifthmoon, and he said it loud enough for any skulking

trespasser to overhear.

The man-at-arms resumed his former position, slamming the butt of his halberd on the stone. “Pass,

friend.”

One of the footmen opened the right-hand flap of the dou-ble door. As Trudy followed Mother

Celandine through it, she caught a startling whiff of... of she was not sure what. She did not stop to

investigate.

She found herself in a pillared hall that must take up most of the ground floor of the building. A very

inadequate light was shed by a pair of enormous bronze candelabra standing at the foot of a showy

marble staircase set in the center of the hall, which seemed an inefficient use of space. Much vague

sculpture loitered in the shadows along the walls. The marble floor supported some random rugs and a

few ugly sofas and chairs, poorly arranged.

A voice at her elbow said, “Good chance, Trudy.”

She jumped and turned to meet his grin. “Bernard!” He had not told her he would be here!

He smirked. “A last-minute roster change.”

Obviously he had arranged this so he could surprise her— and embarrass her! Mother Celandine was

frowning, and three other Blades had emerged from the darkness to leer. All Blades looked much

alike—lean, athletic men of middle size, mostly in their twenties. The conjuration that bound them to

absolute loyalty to the King showed to her senses as an ethereal metallic glow, which she found very

becoming.

4Dave Duncan

“He’s a fast worker, our Bernie,” one said.

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“Gotta watch those rapier men.”

Horrors! Her face was on fire.

“That will do!” The fourth Blade was a little older and wore a red sash to show that he was in charge.

He tapped the cat’s-eye pommel of his sword. “Good chance to you, Mother Celandine.”

“And to you, Sir Valiant.”

“Do you know Sir Richey? SirAragon ? And our expert breaker of hearts, Sir Bernard?” The men

saluted in turn.

Mother Celandine nodded crisply to each salute. “This blushing maiden is Sister Gertrude.”

Jealous old hag!

“Known as Trudy to her friends,”Aragon remarked in an audible aside.

“We asked for White Sisters, not red ones,” Richey coun-tered.

Mortified, Trudy caught Bernie’s eye. He winked. She re-alized that he was showing off. The others’

crude humor was a form of flattery. She winked back.

“Why don’t you have more lights?” Celandine demanded, peering disapprovingly at the gloom.

“Blades see well in the dark,” Sir Valiant said, “but the real reason is that the visitors took every candle

and lamp they could find upstairs with them. The Baron said some-thing about liking lots of light. We’ll

make sure we have more tomorrow.”

The old lady sniffed. “Well, let’s get it over with. Carry on, Sister.”

Trudy led the way back to the door to begin. The lantern-bearing footmen followed, and the Blades

retreated to the staircase in the center, so their bindings would not distract the Sisters. Trudy closed her

eyes and listened. She inhaled, licked the roof of her mouth, queried her skin for odd sen-

5Impossible Odds

sations... did all the curious things that promoted her sen-sitivity to the spirits, tricks she had been taught

at Oak-endown. She missed Oakendown and all her friends there, although it had been seriously

deficient in boypeople, who were turning out to be just as much fun as she had dreamed.

“Nothing here, Mother.” She began walking around the edge of the hall, stopped at the first corner.

“There is some-thing above here, though! Mostly air, some fire and water. And love.” Except for trivia

like good luck charms, conjura-tions were forbidden within the palace.

Celandine stifled a yawn. “Then we’re under the Grand Duke’s bedroom. He wears some sort of a

translation device.”

“It’s a seeming, surely? I mean,” Trudy added before the old harridan could take offense, “it’s more like

a seeming than anything else I’ve met.”

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Mother Celandine pursued thin lips, wrinkling them more than ever. “I do believe you’re right! Yes.

That’s good. We missed that possibility. But it’s harmless, you agree?”

Maybe, but the rules said... Trudy had been reprimanded twice already that day for talking back. The

Prioress was threatening to post her to uttermost Wylderland if she did not learn proper respect for her

seniors. “Yes, Mother.” She hoped the King did not sign anything when he was near that enchantment.

With the footmen in attendance, Sister and Mother pa-raded around the ground floor, through deserted

kitchens, a dining room, an office. Trudy detected nothing untoward until she was almost back where she

had begun.

“There’s something here! Upstairs, I mean.” This one was much harder, and she struggled for several

minutes, but the jangle of elementals defied analysis. “There’s more than one conjuration. I can’t make

them out. A lot of them, all mixed up.” Her skin crawled. “I think we should go up and have a close look

at that!”

6Dave Duncan

“It is Baron von Fader’s medicine chest,” Mother Celandine said. “Or, at least, that was what they were

in when they arrived. He is His Grace’s physician, as well as his Foreign Secretary and Treasurer and

spirits know what else. We scanned it carefully. The Prioress decided not to ask for the chest to be

opened.”

“Why not? There’s death in there!”

“Sister! There’s death in almost anything, as you well know. Were you never taken to an apothecary’s

when you were at Oakendown? Many drugs and simples are dangerous in large amounts. And Grand

Dukes are entitled to the ben-efit of small doubts. Now, have you done?”

“I am uneasy about this one, Mother,” Trudy said stubbornly.

“It was approved only this morning. But remember it care-fully. If you sense any change in it tomorrow,

or any other night, then tell the Guard right away. Don’t be afraid to ask for my help if you’re in doubt.

Come!”

She led the way back to the waiting Blades.

“You wish to go upstairs now?” Valiant asked.

“No, we are satisfied. Anything really dangerous we could detect from down here. Of course we

located the Baron’s medicine chest and the seeming His Grace wears, but we were already aware of

those.”

“Are they dangerous?” Valiant demanded.

“Not unless you swallow an overdose of purge or sleep-ing draft.”

“His Nibs wears a seeming? What does that do?”

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“Makes him attractive to blushing maidens,” Trudy said. That was probably all it was for, but the

medicine chest still bothered her. Any job half-done bothered her.

Mother Celandine was not amused. Mother Celandine wanted her beauty sleep. “You know where we

are if you need us, Sir Valiant.”

As they headed for the door, Bernard pulled another of his

7Impossible Odds

tricks. Right behind Trudy’s ear, but loud enough for every-

one to hear, he said, “Breakfast as usual, Trudy?”

“Of course,” she shot back. “My place this time.”

SirAragon said, “Oooooh, Trudy!”

“We will come and chaperone you, Trudy,” Sir Richey added.

She had never had breakfast with Bernie. She had never been to bed with him, either, although tonight

after dinner had been a very close call. If she had not had to go on duty, who knew what might have

happened?

She did, of course.

But only by hearsay.

So far.

Before her face could even think about blushing, she fol-lowed Mother Celandine into the dark

vestibule, then out-side. She went down one step and stopped so suddenly that Sergeant Bates almost

slammed into her. She looked inquir-ingly at the guard who had challenged them on their arrival. He was

playing statue again, but... but...

“Something wrong, Sister?” Bates asked.

“I’m not sure.” She was sensing something. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Answer her, Elson!” the sergeant said.

The sentry was very tall and had an untidy blond beard. He blinked down at her stupidly. “Right? Yes,

mistress, I mean, Sister.”

Trudy shivered. She recalled noticing this same oddness on the way in, and now it was stronger. Very

strange. Noth-ing familiar. Air? No fire. No love or chance. Time, no water. Death. Yes, definitely quite

a lot of death.

“What is it?” Mother Celandine had returned. “Mm? Oh, that. Are you wearing an amulet, soldier?”

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Elson shook his head vigorously, as if trying to dislodge his helmet. “No, Mother.”

8Dave Duncan

“How about a ring, mm?”

“Er, yes, Mother...”

Mother Celandine laughed harshly and took a firm hold of Trudy’s arm to lead her down the steps.

“He’s a young male, Sister.”

Trudy resisted the opportunity to say she had guessed that much because of the beard. “I don’t

understand, Mother.”

Bates barked commands; the procession formed up as be-fore and began moving along the path.

“Conjured rings are a common form of—ahem!—family planning, dear. Rings don’t get in the way when

you take everything else off. I admit that Man-at-arms Elson’s is un-usual, not a formula I recall ever

meeting before, but you’ll find such devices all over the palace.”

“I’m sorry.” She had made a fool of herself.

“I like your young Blade, Bernard.”

Trudy gasped. “Er... thank you.”

“It must tax a girl to keep up with that sense of humor.”

“I’ve managed so far.”

“I noticed.”

“Bernie’s fun. But you shouldn’t refer to him asmyBlade.”

“He thinks he is.” The Mother sighed. “I used to lust after Blades quite absurdly, but their bindings

always gave me a headache at close quarters. Still do. Even tonight, just those few minutes with them.”

If she had an aversion to Blades, why had she accepted a posting at Court? It was no excuse for

skimping on the in-spection.

“Bindings don’t bother me,” Trudy confessed, trying to imagine Mother Celandine forty years ago, a

demure maiden fresh in from Oakendown.Lusting?The mind reeled. “I quite like it, in fact.” It was sexy.

“Then you’re lucky. You do understand that other young

9Impossible Odds

men will stay well clear of you if you date a Blade? And everyone will assume you’re sleeping with him?”

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“I do notsleepwith Bernard! I mean I do not, er,liewith him!” Justsittingbeside him was quite dangerous

enough.

“Then you’re about to,” Mother Celandine said firmly. That was not a question. “Unless you drop him

completely, right away.” That was.

“I don’t want to dothat,” Trudy said.

“Then let’s talk about rings and things, dear.”

When a stupid twigger asked you if you felt all right, the first thing that happened was that you startednot

feeling all right. Think about it for a while longer and you began to feel allwrong.As the night passed,

Junior Pike Man Elson grew steadily more unhappy. He was cold. He was sweating. His eyes hurt. He

had a flea, and fleas inside a breastplate were worse torture than the rack. He was really mad at his idiot

wife for starting another baby so soon. Already he couldn’t afford to feed all the gaping mouths that

greeted him when-ever he went home.

Every quarter hour or so, Corporal Nolly gave the signal that meant, count three, then stamp feet

together, shoulder halberd, take one pace forward, turn inward, and so on. It ended with the two of them

having changed sides. That was better than being reported for fainting on duty, but it hardly classed as an

exciting evening.

It was the glare of the torchlight that made Elson’s eyes hurt.

His new girl was probably balling that redhead in Blue Company right now.

Every hour or thereabouts, Nolly gave the other signal, so Elson shouldered his halberd and marched

around to the back door to relieve Blaccalf. Then he was all alone and could shiver all he wanted. He

could keep his eyes closed so

10Dave Duncan

that torchlight didn’t pain him. He could run on the spot to try and warm up. He could scratch for the

flea. At least the mosquitoes seemed to have taken pity on him. He decided it was no great honor to

guard Grand Duke Whosit of Wher-ever, who was no doubt swiving some cute blonde in a feath-erbed

upstairs. He was screamingly mad at Sergeant Bates.

Tramping boots announced the return of Blaccalf.

Elson went round to the front and took up his position. Just when had the spirits decreed that he must

stand out here freezing in the dark to guard some rich foreign slob he had never met, a stuck-up slob who

wouldn’t ever give him as much as a nod of thanks? That same slob was upstairs right now swingeing

some slutty twigger! Why didn’t Nolly just tell him to go off home, or go off and find his girl, whatever

bed she was in?

Nolly gave the signal again.

Count three...

For variety this time, as they were about to pass in the middle of the step, Elson pushed his dagger into

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Nolly’s left eye. Nolly dropped his halberd. He didn’t fall down. He just leaned forward and made little

whimpering sounds as he watched the thin stream of blood trickling off the hilt of the dagger and

splashing on his boots.

The overhead light was too bright for the next bit. Elson walked unsteadily down the steps. Then he

swung his own halberd horizontal and held it with both hands so he could cut his throat. The process was

not as painless as he had hoped. He should have kept the edge sharper.

Nolly stopped trickling and stopped complaining. He stumped down the steps and headed around to the

back of the house, looking for Blaccalf.

Elson finished dying and walked back up, then in through the front door. ***

11Impossible Odds

The Blades approved of Quamast House because they knew that any questionable guests billeted there

would not go sneaking out any secret passages. No assassins were going to sneak in, either. When it had

been built by King Ambrose, the Guard Commander had been the great Durendal, now Grand Master,

and he had made sure that it was built right. With the outer doors and windows securely barred, as they

were, Valiant and his little squad had nothing to do except stay awake at the bottom of the staircase.

From there they had a clear view of the upstairs balcony and the doors to all the bedrooms.

It was an easy chore and tonight they even had a rookie with them, who must be introduced to some of

the fiendish dice games the Blades employed to while away their stints. No charge for instruction. IOUs

accepted without limit. Some recruits needed years to pay off their initiations.

Of course Cub Bernard first had to be baited about that slinky White Sister he had acquired. It was

unseemly that a freckle-faced tyro, not two weeks into the Guard and barely through his orgying lessons,

should collect something like that when better men hankered in vain. They quickly dis-covered that young

Bernard was not the average run-of-the-mill Ironhall innocent. He could see that they were all as jealous

as stags with glass antlers. He gave back as good as he got, inventing much lurid detail.

Abandoning that game as unwinnable,Valiant,Aragon , and Richey got serious. They found a massive

oaken dining table and, with some difficulty, dragged it to the bottom of the stair. They tried to move the

two colossal bronze cande-labra closer to it—however exceptional a Blade’s night vi-sion, in monetary

matters he liked his brothers’ hands well lit. Finding the monsters immovable, they settled for the ex-isting

illumination and got down to concentrated instruction.

“You know Saving Seven, of course?” Valiant asked.

12Dave Duncan

The kid said he didn’t, so Richey demanded to see the color of his money andAragon produced a bag

of eight-sided dice. Each face represented one of the elements, he ex-plained, and you rolled them four

dice at a time. The object was to roll seven elements but not the eighth, death. Roll a death and you had

to start collecting from the beginning.

“First player has a slight edge,” he added, “so we’ll give you the honor. After that the winner starts the

next one. Put a farthing in the pot and roll four.”

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On his first try the kid rolled two airs, a water, and a chance, so he counted three. Sir Richey paid his

farthing and rolled two deaths, which put him out of that game altogether. The other two scored four

elements apiece.

“Just keep going,” Richey said. “You can fold, pay the same price as the last man, or double it.”

Nobody doubled on that round, which saw the kid roll love, time, and fire, while Valiant andAragon

added one el-ement each. Being ahead with six, lacking only earth, Bernard doubled the price, but failed

to improve his score. The others paid when their turns came, with the same lack of progress, so he

doubled the price again. He had spirit. With the pot starting to look interesting, he rolled a triple death.

Valiant andAragon exchanged angry glances. Richey guffawed.

Bernard brightened. “What does that mean?”

“It means you win,” Richey explained quickly, before the other two could invent a new rule for the

occasion. “Roll aquadrupledeath and everyone who was in the game at the beginning has to pay you the

final amount of the pot. That’s called the ‘massacre.’ Another game, Freckles?”

“Why not?” Bernard raked in the coins.

It is regrettable that skill, virtue, and experience are no match for fickle chance. The brat won four games

in a row, two of them with triple deaths. The next game turned out to

13Impossible Odds

be a never-ender, where everybody kept rolling single deaths and no one could reach the magic seven.

With the pot grow-ing enormous and three sharpies’ reputations at stake, the betting grew desperate,

until eventually they had the kid cor-nered. They were all sitting on winnable arrays and he was back

down to two. All three of them in turn doubled the bet, expecting to price him out of the game. Perhaps

he was too dumb to see that he could not win from there in a single roll. Or perhaps it was just that he

was playing with their money and they were all writing IOUs. He not only stayed in, he doubled yet

again.

Then he rolled a quadruple death.

The appalled silence was broken by a yell from Valiant, who had his back to the staircase and was

facing the main door. He leaped to his feet, whipping out his sword. “In-truder! Richey, get him. You two

come with me.” He ran seven or eight steps up and turned to survey the hall.

“You’re seeing things!”Aragon said, but he went to join his leader, blocking the way to the guests above.

So, to his credit, did Bernard, who might reasonably suspect a trick to cheat him out of half a year’s pay.

Sir Richey strode forward to the main entrance carrying his saber,Pain, at high guard. The little vestibule

was dark, but when he reached the line of pillars, he shouted, without turning his head, “The door’s still

barred!” He stopped. “I can smell blood! There’s blood on the—” Something stand-ing behind the

nearest pillar lurched out at him. Possibly the stains on the floor had distracted him, but he parried the

hal-berd thrust admirably, caught hold of its shaft in his left hand, and swungPainat his assailant’s neck.

A Blade had little to fear in such a match, and Valiant wisely did not send him reinforcements. The

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staircase was still the key. He said, “Aragon, waken the Duke and the Baron and get back here.”Aragon

went racing up the stairs.

14Dave Duncan

Richey, having almost decapitated his assailant, let go of the halberd. That was a mistake, for the intruder

did not drop. Instead he swung the halberd at Richey’s midriff. Richey leaped back, parrying. His

opponent shuffled after, repeatedly stabbing at him. As they came closer to the stairs and the light,

Bernard cried out in horror. Now it was clear that the intruder was a walking corpse, for its head hung at

an odd angle and it was soaked in dried blood from cuirass to boots. The gaping wound Richey had

made in its neck was almost bloodless, but there was another, a crusted black gash. Its throat had been

cut twice, and it was still fighting.

Nearer still, and Richey, incredibly, started to laugh, albeit shrilly. The apparition continued to thrust at

him with the point of its halberd, which he parried effortlessly, as if it were made of stiff paper. He tried a

few cuts of his own, knocking the apparition aside like straw. It kept coming back, but was obviously

harmless.

“It’s only a mirage!” he shouted.

Upstairs,Aragon was yelling and beating on doors.

Another Yeoman wraith came into view around the stair-case, from the kitchen quarters. It moved with

the same awkward walk and it had a dagger hilt protruding from its left eye. When it reached the table it

dropped on all fours and crept underneath.

“Leave it alone,” Valiant said. “Ghosts can’t hurt us.”

Richey had almost reached the stairs and his opponent was transparent, barely visible at all. He was

letting its clumsy strokes go, for they passed clean through him as if he were not there. Likewise,Pain

whistled through the shadow without effect.

The table tilted, spilling dice and money. Valiant and Bernard watched in amazement, for all four Blades

together had barely managed to shift that monstrosity. For a moment it stood on edge, then tipped over,

impacting one of the can-

15Impossible Odds

delabra. They went down together with a crash that shook the hall. Most of the candles winked out.

Darkness leaped inward.

Richey screamed as his opponent’s halberd impaled him.Painwent skittering off across the marble floor.

Richey fell; the corpse withdrew the halberd and stabbed him again. Then again. The second intruder

clambered off the fallen table and went lurching toward the other candelabrum with both arms held

across his eyes.

“Save the other candles!” Valiant yelled. He and Bernard went plunging back down the stairs.

Bernard got there first with a couple of giant, reckless, ankle-risking strides and made a spectacular

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Dave Duncan - King's Blades 04 - Impossible Odds

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