The King's Justice (15 page)

I stood before her trembling, deprived of voice. From the windows, the sun cast a blur across my sight. Slew was known to me, a man whose visage of gnarled oak presided over the arms and thighs of an ox. He performed an array of unsavory tasks for his sovereign. I believed him the slayer of the man who had fathered Inimica Phlegathon deVry's child.

By increments, she appeared to return as though her mind had wandered far. As she assayed my silence, she frowned once more, but slightly, a sign that her displeasure was not yet grave.

“Mayhew Gordian,” she informed me, “I do not fear your disapproval of my deeds. You are aware that I must know the unknown. My need is extreme.”

Then the small tightness of her brows eased. Now she appeared to regard me with a sympathy which she customarily reserved for men whom she meant to mislead or betray.

“I am not unfeeling, Hieronomer. It has not escaped my notice that I make hard use of you. Perhaps you suffer the pangs of a need for which your straits preclude satisfaction. Food and wine you have in plenty. Lodgings, garments, warmth. The rooms and implements necessary to your arts. Any sacrifice that you desire. And I have offered both attendance and aid—even my own—but those comforts you have declined. Nevertheless some common need remains to plague you.

“If you will but name it, it will be assuaged.”

The thought that she now offered the use of some hapless woman or man for my pleasure—or indeed of some girl or boy—exceeded endurance. I did not regard myself highly, but I had not yet sunk to such depths. Nor were the tattered remnants of my conscience so readily suborned. With an effort, I recovered my voice, though I spoke hoarsely.

“I have seen too many entrails, Your Majesty. I have no common needs.” More clearly, I conceded, “Should no other augury suffice, I will consider a child,” though I hoped that I would be man enough to cut my own throat first.

Then I turned away again. Thrusting aside the tapestry with hands that shook, I effected my departure from the boudoir.

I believed that I could have sacrificed Slew without quaver or qualm. Alas, every hieronomer knew that the entrails must be young. An excessive experience of life introduced too many conflicts, too many knots of passion, wrong, and failure. Only the viscera of the innocent spoke truly.

Still I preferred to contemplate disemboweling Slew as I descended to my laborium. His blood would not make me regret my existence.

W
hen I gained my chambers, I found the door unlocked.

This did not alarm me. I was too much distracted for ordinary fright. And I knew of one other key. For that reason,
I was not taken aback to discover a woman waiting in my laborium.

I knew her for a woman by no sign other than her possession of a key. Though she was seated upon a stool and must have expected my return, her face was entirely hidden by the hood of the dun wool cloak which also concealed every detail of her form. Under other circumstances, the young delicacy of her hands might have exposed her, but now they were covered by her sleeves.

Yet I was sure of her. When I had swallowed the taste of my exchanges with Inimica Phlegathon deVry, I said gently, “Your Highness,” bowing though she could not see me past the rim of her hood. “You are ever welcome here.” I did not add that I was especially grateful for her presence now. “How may I serve you?”

Straightening her back, she lifted her head without revealing it. In a tone too arid for her years, she replied, “You do not serve me, Hieronomer. I serve you.” Then she added less drily, “How often must I insist that I wish to be addressed by my name? If you do not, I must continue to call you Hieronomer.”

I smiled. She had that power over me despite my recent distresses. “Very well,” I answered, “Your Highness. I make no future promise. For the present, however, I will deny you the dignity of your title. Excrucia, you are very welcome.”

She was Excrucia Phlegathon deVry, my Queen's daughter—and presumed heir.

She sighed. “Ah, dignity. You and no other man considers
me worthy of any title. Still I am pleased, Mayhew. Your name suits you.”

I smiled more broadly. “Then accept my thanks. Among my few pleasures, I regard your use of my name most highly.” I did not cite the comfort of her friendship, or the value of her aid.

“Most highly,” she echoed. Now she sounded like a land in drought. “You are not often thus fulsome. You must have returned from yet another opaque audience with my mother.”

In my turn, I sighed. For a moment, I scrubbed my face with my hands, striving to efface my Queen's command from my features.
Sacrifice a child
— When that expedient failed, I slumped to a stool and seated myself near my visitor.

At once, she adjusted her posture so that still I could not gaze upon her visage.

I knew the cause of her modesty or shame—knew it, and was deeply vexed. At other times, I had respected her reluctance to be seen, doing so because I had no wish to discomfit her. Now, however, Her Majesty's instructions had provoked me out of my customary circumspection. Goaded by an unfamiliar ire, I elected to confront her daughter.

“Excrucia Phlegathon deVry, you are widely considered the plainest and dullest woman in the land. That is unfortunate.” Who would not appear both plain and dull beside Indemnie's ruler? “But it is your further misfortune that I do not find you plain, and to my certain knowledge you are far from dull. Also I am desperate. Therefore I ask of you deeds and dangers which my service to your mother will not permit me to perform.”

Indeed, I relied upon Excrucia's common repute to render her unworthy of notice, perhaps even of refusal. Such qualities might ward her where I could not.

To my relief, she laughed. “Now you mock me, Mayhew. I have incurred no perils in your name. Rather the tasks which you request provide only fascination.”

That happy condition would not endure. Nonetheless I silenced my wish to speak of future hazards. She was not the cause of my anger—or of my alarm. Also her presence assured me that she had much to relate.

“Your Highness.” I faltered. “I mean to say, Excrucia.” Then I summoned my resolve. “Your perils are perhaps greater than you suppose. I have come from eavesdropping upon an audience between Her Majesty and Baron Glare Estobate.” Reluctant to inspire condemnation of Inimica Phlegathon deVry in her daughter, I revealed only that which I deemed compulsory. “In the course of their converse, Her Majesty suggested to the Baron that the succession may not be entirely secure.”

There I halted, awaiting some response.

My ally granted me a glimpse of one eye past her hood. “I suppose Mother is wise to caution the barons. Certainly they will be wise to fear her wrath.” Her voice resembled bleached bone as she added, “There has been an attempt on my life.”

In an instant, my world reeled. In a day of unpleasant blows, this jolt snatched me to my feet. Indemnie was not a realm in which attempts were made upon the lives of daughters—or indeed of sons. We were too prosperous, and had been too long
at peace. Trembling again, and unable to speak, I stood over Excrucia. Another man would surely have demanded,
Who dares?
I was able only to knot my fists and stare.

She did not flinch. Doubtless for her own preservation—I mean her emotional preservation—she had learned a measure of her mother's self-possession. Also she did not fear me. In a tone devoid of emotion, she explained, “Five nights past, I awoke well before dawn. Some sound, or perhaps some current in the air, must have disturbed me, though I do not recall it. Opening my eyes, I found a dark form near my bed. It approached with its hands raised. I saw the polished sheen of long knives.”

Within her cloak, she shrugged. “Fortuitously Vail's saber swept the assassin's head aside ere the knives plunged.”

Gaping, I croaked like a toad, “You suffered no hurt?”

Her hood shook a negative. “Mother was irate that Vail did not preserve the assassin's life. She wished my intended slayer questioned. She wished him tortured. However, Vail outfaced her displeasure. After a time, she conceded that his quickness was apt.

“Doubtless she is wise to hint that the succession is endangered.” Here Excrucia's voice suggested the breaking of brittle twigs. “And doubtless also she is wise to do no more than hint. Through Glare Estobate, she informs the barons that she is aware of betrayal while leaving them uncertain as to the extent of her knowledge, or even of her suspicions. They will do well to hear her hints as threats.”

I found that I had not the strength to remain upright. Seating myself once more, I slumped like a broken thing. I had acted inconsiderately when I first sought her aid, but I was not yet so devoid of scruple that I could contemplate harm to her person without faintness.

Vail, I thought, shaken as aspen leaves high on the Fount Peaks. Damned, blessed Vail. He was Slew's comrade—almost Slew's brother in appearance—but his tasks were not Slew's. He served as Excrucia's bodyguard. In Indemnie! An isle where even household guards were no more than a formality. I had long distrusted him, but now I was weak with gratitude for his diligence in his duty—and also for his skill.

“Well,” I breathed, endeavoring to calm myself. “Well. It is plain that events have proceeded further than I knew.” Hieronomy suggested future movements and outcomes, but was notoriously imprecise concerning
when
those developments might occur. “Hazards I foresaw, but I had supposed them distant,” certainly no nearer than Inimica Phlegathon deVry's coming ball. “Now I confess my folly.”

Sinking inwardly, I said as well as I could, “Your Highness, I must cast you aside. I no longer require your service. That you are already endangered is insufferable. I will not allow your peril to be increased in my name.”

“Nonsense,” she retorted. Beneath the dryness of her tone ran an unexpected trickle of mirth. “You do not endanger me. My heart is not made to flutter by my efforts at your behest.” She sounded remarkably untroubled for a girl who had come near to
death. “And my name is Excrucia. Should you neglect it again, you will earn my regal displeasure.”

When I looked up at her, she laughed openly, allowing me to see her face.

Well.

In the ordinary course of events within the Domicile, I had seen Excrucia's features often enough. My Queen did not permit her daughter to attend public occasions hooded or veiled. Still the sight of the girl's face did not fail to strike me.

She might justly be styled plain when she regarded her world and those who inhabited it without expression. Her skin did not glow. Her features were blunt and irregular, with somber eyes too near-set and mouth too wide—and all dominated by a prominent nose. Moreover, her appearance was not improved when she frowned, which she did often, in concentration or social discomfort. At such times, she might have been no more than a young fishwife.

Ah, but when she laughed—when humor or sarcasm or indeed kindness ruled her—when interest, curiosity, or eagerness struck their sparks—she was ignited to beauty. Then her mien was transformed. She concealed herself when she could because she knew too well that she was plain—and perhaps because her mother's example, or her mother's disappointment in her, caused her shame. But our colloquies in my laborium were often blessed by such reminders as she now presented—reminders that she was not as she customarily appeared.

Her face was one that a better man than I could have loved.
Her laughter and her smile enabled me to forget for a moment that I was angered by my Queen, dismayed by her deeds—and altogether baffled by Indemnie's plight.

Sadly the moment passed. Recalled to my straits, I spoke with a measure of asperity.

“Excrucia, then. Your service itself does not endanger you. That I grant. Rather my fear is of your mother's disapproval.

“Oh, she does not wish you ignorant. Mere study will not incur her ire. But that you pursue your studies at
my
bidding—” I swallowed anxiety. “Excrucia, your aid will infuriate her. That you will be barred from further contact is certain.” With difficulty, I refrained from adding, That she will have my head is probable. More quietly, I explained, “She relies upon
my
ignorance. She requires it absolutely.”

My words banished Excrucia's smile. Instead she frowned—a frown that I was unable to interpret. And she did not relieve my uncertainty. Her tone revealed only restraint as she offered, “Yet you seek to defy her.”

Beyond question, I should have sent her from me. I should have refused all further converse. She was my Queen's daughter and heir. I had no claim upon her, no right to cause her the slightest discomfort. Nevertheless I deemed myself desperate. Moreover I was too much alone with my dreads and doubts. I could not hold back.

“I seek to
understand
her.”

Excrucia started in surprise. “She does not wish to be understood? She does not wish her
Hieronomer
to understand her?”