“You have followed my instructions, then?”
“We have-but alas, it did no good,” Garchi said with a sigh. “Oh, the lad can wench and swill with the best of them-but he doesn’t. Not all that often, at least. He’ll only bed one wench a night, and not even every night, at that. I’ve never heard one of them complain of his treatment, though.”
Rebozo thought that he might be more reassured if the women had complained-but he had enough tact not to say so. “I regret to hear it; a boy his age ought to enjoy the leisure to play while he can. Should have, I should say-I fear that time is at an end.”
“Oh?” Garchi looked up, alert, but neither sad nor glad. “You’re taking him from us, then?”
“I fear so-he must begin his work in this world. Send him to me, Lord Garchi.”
“When he’s done with… the matter at hand, of course.”
“Of course.”
Garchi didn’t mention that the task at hand was a book in Latin, about the lives of the old emperors. He wasn’t sure Rebozo would be happy about it. Consequently, Rebozo was rather surprised when the servant announced Sir Boncorro only fifteen minutes later. Rebozo did not have to rise, since he was still pacing. The prince came in right behind. “Your pardon for not dressing more elaborately, Lord Chancellor, but I did not wish to keep you waiting… What means this?”
The chancellor had sunk to one knee, bowing his head. “Long live the king!”
For a minute Boncorro stood frozen, as the meaning of the salutation sank in and he adjusted his mind to it. He seemed to stand a little taller, even straighter than he had. “So it has happened. The Devil has tired of my grandfather, has withdrawn the sorcery that kept him alive, and the king is dead.”
“Long live the king,” Rebozo returned. Boncorro stood still a moment longer, to let the shock and numbness pass-and then came the first fierce elation of triumph. Grandfather was dead, and Boncorro was still alive! Then he stepped forward to clasp Rebozo by the shoulders and lift him to his feet. “You must not kneel to me, old friend. You have ever been my companion in adversity, my shield in danger. You shall always stand in my presence, and may sit when I sit.”
“I-I thank your Majesty for this high privilege,” Rebozo stammered. “You have earned it,” Boncorro said simply. The chancellor stood a moment, looking at him. Prince Boncorro had grown into a fine figure of a man-six feet tall, with broad, muscular shoulders and arms, legs that showed as pillars in his tights, but shapely pillars indeed, and a very handsome face, with straight nose, generous mouth, and large blue eyes, beneath a cap of golden hair. It was a face that seemed deceptively frank and open, but Rebozo knew that appearance was mostly illusion. He also knew that of the women who came to Boncorro’s bed, few came reluctantly. “You do not mourn, your Majesty?”
Boncorro permitted himself a smile of amusement. “I shall appear properly grief-stricken in public, Lord Chancellor-but you know better than any man that I rejoice at my grandfather’s death. I feared him and hated him as much as I admired and loved my father-and I have no doubt it was he who gave the order to kill saintly son. Indeed, I charge you with the task of finding the man who struck the blow.”
Rebozo stared. “But-But-it was the groom! The man who found the body!”
Boncorro waved the idea away impatiently. “He discovered the hat is all. There is no reason to believe he thrust the knife himself.”
“He confessed!”
“Under torture. All his confession means is that he wanted the pain to stop.”
Rebozo felt a cold chill enwrap him; the prince-no, king, was showing wisdom far beyond his years. “Then who could have done it?”
“Who gained by it?” King Boncorro fixed the chancellor with a piercing gaze. “Only me-and Hell. I know that I did not slay him.Now how did my grandfather die?”
“Why-beside two knights, his only guards; they were dead, too. And a peasant…”
“How was he slain? With what weapon?”
“His… his head was… he was beheaded, Majesty.”
“Beheaded?”Boncorro frowned.“Were there any other wounds?”
Definitely, he saw too much for a youth of twenty. “There was a dagger-in his back, between the shoulder blades.”
Boncorro’s face lit with keen delight. “Describe the dagger!”
“It… it was-” Chancellor Rebozo paused to picture the dagger in his mind. “-double-edged, the blade sloping straight to the point on both sides… an oval for a hilt… The handle…”
“Say it, man!”
“I cannot!” Rebozo looked away. “It was sculpted, it was…obscene… evil.”
“Like the dagger that slew my father!”
“Very like it,” Rebozo said unwillingly. “A twin.”
“Then the same man did it, or two assassins who served the same lord! Find me the murderer of my grandfather, Rebozo, and I doubt not you shall find me also the murderer of my father!”
The chancellor stared. “Then-you still wish me to serve you, your Majesty?”
“Of course. You saved my life when my father died, you served my grandfather from fear rather than desire, and you have always been gentle and kind to me. I can think of no man more capable, nor one I would more readily trust and wish to have by me. Now make ready for us to go to the capital.”
“Surely, Majesty,” the chancellor said, and turned away, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. A local bandit was tortured until he confessed to the murder of the king and his knights. Unfortunately, Baron Garchi and his sons were overly zealous, killing the outlaw and his whole band on the spot. None of them owned a dagger with an obscene and horrifying hilt. None of them rode a flame-skinned monster, or carried a battle-axe of any size; they were all archers and swordsmen. But Rebozo was satisfied and reported his results to the king. The king was not convinced. At least Boncorro didn’t start making changes the instant he arrived at the royal castle. He waited until after his coronation-three weeks. That also gave him time to recruit his own bodyguards, and to lay protective spells against them. He also laid protective spells against everyone else, throughout the castle and all around it. They sent Rebozo into constant nervous agitation-wherever he went, the blasted things sent his blood tingling! It was unnerving to know that the king didn’t really trust him-though the chancellor had to admit that Boncorro seemed to trust him more than anyone else. It was even more unnerving to Rebozo to know that the king had learned so much magic-so much that he didn’t really need the protection of his chancellor’s sorcery. That made Rebozo more nervous than anything else-not being needed. He felt as if he stood on sand, and the sands were constantly shifting beneath him. They shifted even more because the young king spent an hour a day in the library, locking the door securely to make sure he would not be disturbed. There were a few old Greek and Roman manuscripts in there, but most of the shelves were filled with books of sorcery. The spells he actually used, though, were scarcely sorcerous at all, such as the ward that held the library doors constantly locked against even Rebozo’s magic when the king was not there. Where had he learned such power? Some of his spells were actually based on Goodness, and gave Rebozo a real shock when he encountered them, a shock that had after-effects of nausea and palpitations that went on for hours. At least the chancellor consoled himself, none of them invoked the power of the Saints or their Master. But that was cold comfort indeed. Where had the son of a sorcerer learned such magic? Surely not in Baron Garchi’s castle-though the country lord was far from the most sinister in the kingdom, too easygoing to be truly evil in any way, he was nonetheless fond of his pleasures, and most of them rather wicked; some were definitely corrupt. He had done his best to raise the boy in debauchery, even as he had raised his own sons-and now look what had happened! Had there been some secret priest among the baron’s servants? Some copy of some holy book that the prince had found? Rebozo resolved to give Garchi and his castle a thorough housecleaning-as soon as King Boncorro allowed him time enough. If ever. The demands were almost constant, first redecorating the castle to Boocorro’s taste, then supervising the strengthening of the defenses of the town and the castle, as well as preparing for the coronation. It was while he was wrapped up in all of this that the king had laid his network of spells in and around the castle, giving Rebozo such a rude shock when he discovered them. He thought he would have some respite after the coronation was over, then Boncorro called him in the very next morning, not long after dawn-and the chancellor was dismayed to see that the young king had obviously been awake for at least an hour already! He sat at a table in his solar, surrounded by books and papers. He looked up as the chancellor entered, and his face lit with a smile. “Ah! Rebozo, old friend!” He stood and came around the desk to clasp the chancellor by the shoulders. “And how are you this morning?”