Mathilda met his eyes. If he says kill her, the guardsmen will cut me down, she thought. You can see it in their eyes; most of them would do anything he said.
There was a slight hush around them; even Kate stiffened, until the Bossman chuckled and nodded. People relaxed, and the bubble of silence collapsed inward again.
She felt a slight trickle of sweat down her spine, more than the heavy clothing and sticky-warm night warranted, and sipped at the sweet strong liquor again. That wouldn?t have happened at the Palace at home, or Castle Todenangst. Sandra Arminger killed when she had to, with the cool dispassion of a housewife selecting a chicken. But not from spite or for the pleasure of it.
Darling, people should be afraid of the ruler?s power, she?d said to her daughter. They shouldn?t live in terror of the Throne?s whims-that can make men willing to kill even if it means dying, just to end the uncertainty. The surest way to drive a dog dangerously crazy is to punish and reward unpredictably, and people aren?t that much different.
An intense longing for that cool quiet voice filled her, and their evenings together in the Silver Tower, talking or listening to the minstrel or playing chess or just sitting together reading…
I even miss Mom?s damned Persian cats shedding all over me! I?m even looking forward to how mad she?s going to be at me for running away with Rudi on the quest!
A little to her right Odard slid his right hand away from his left sleeve. She wasn?t surprised that he?d managed to get a knife and conceal it. But she was suddenly, shockingly aware that he?d been ready to attack Heasleroad if he ordered her cut down. One thing desperate times did was show you who your friends really were. She?d had her doubts about Odard before they left home.
And I really doubted it when he said he loved me. Now I?m not so sure. Which is… messy. I don?t love him that way… do I? More like a brother. ?Your family were Society people, then?? Iowa?s Bossman said to the baron of Gervais. ?Ah… not exactly, my lord Bossman,? Odard said cautiously. ?My father Edward Liu was a freelance man-at-arms before the Change, and gained the golden spurs afterward. He rose high in the Lord Protector?s service and was ennobled and granted Barony Gervais to hold as tenant-in-chief, for his loyalty and valor.?
Mathilda winced slightly behind a polite smile and nod. Her father Norman Arminger had been in the Society for Creative Anachronism, but not all his first followers had been of its Households. A lot of them had been like Odard?s father Eddie Liu-freelancers, bandits, mercenaries-what they called gangsters back before the Change, or Mafiya like old Alexi Stavarov with his reptile eyes.
Dad had to use what was to hand, she told herself. The others didn?t understand what had to be done, that so many had to die if anyone at all was to live. Yes, Dad wanted power. What conqueror or founder of a dynasty hasn?t? But if he hadn?t gotten it, Portland would have been like Seattle or LA, nothing but bones and ruins and wilderness.
Instead there were hundreds of thousands of people in the Association?s territories in the Columbia Valley, villages and towns, the living fields that fed humankind, the churches and proud castles. ..
Even Eddie Liu wasn?t that bad. He was always nice to me, at least. ?But my mother was of a Society household,? Odard said.?And of course both the Princess? parents were, and they gave a lead to things. The Lord Protector was a very great man, and his lady has ruled us with justice and wisdom since his death.?
And your mother has lethally pissed my mother off, Odard, Mathilda thought. She?s been intriguing with the CUT. You know and I know Mother… the Lady Regent… will have her head for it.
That wasn?t a metaphor; it meant an appointment with a wooden block and a man in a black hood with a very large ax, the latter a privilege reserved for the execution of those of noble blood. Ordinary people just hung by the neck.
Where does that put you, Odard? I know you?re loyal to me here and now, but a mother is a mother. When we get back… ?And that… Rudi fellow?? Heasleroad said. ?His mother was… is… a bard,? she said.
Mathilda fought down a smile as she remembered how indignant Lady Juniper had gotten when a teenaged Mathilda Arminger thoughtlessly suggested that being The Mackenzie was more dignified for one of noble blood than busking.
Chiefing it is as dignified as pumping out a cesspit, the which is needful work too, she?d said indignantly. And I?m of the blood of plain dirt farmers and workingmen. A bard I was and a bard I shall be until the Hunter comes for me, and I will make music in the Lands of Summer for the simple joy of it!
Then she?d sung-a beautiful a cappella piece that ended: ?I ha? harpit you up to the Gods? own thrones,
I ha? harpit your midmost soul in three;
I ha? harpit you down to Anwyn?s dell,
And ye would make a Chief of me??
The smile was in Mathilda?s voice for a moment as she went on: ?Lady Juniper Mackenzie, the Mackenzie of the Clan Mackenzie. There was a war… her forces captured me during a raid. Then my father?s took me back and captured Rudi, and then the Bear Lord and the Lord Protector fought between their armies and killed each other-it?s a very long complicated story.?
Not least because the various sides tell different versions and I?m not altogether sure which one is true, if any, even though I was there myself for part of it. I was too young to know a lot of what went on.
Aloud:?After the Protector?s War Rudi and I spent time with each other?s peoples every year as part of the peace settlement, so we were raised together a lot of the time. We?re, umm, very good friends.? ?Extraordinary,? the Bossman said.?My mother used to read me stories like that-Richard the Lionheart, Robin Hood…? ?I always sympathized with the Sheriff of Nottingham, myself, my lord,? Odard said. He raised his hands with a charming grin.?After all, he was on the side of law and order.? ?Rudi?s a… very able man, too,? Mathilda said.?I?m sure he?ll get your wagons back, your Majesty.?
The glitter came back.?He?d better.?
The bossman moved away, and Kate began chattering about something inconsequential. Mathilda smiled and nodded, keeping mental track in case she should say something, without really listening-another skill she?d learned at court.
The problem is that I sort of recognize the way he looked at me-besides the mad whimsy that might order me killed on an impulse. Lord Piotr de Chehalis did too, once-and his interest in a woman starts at the eyebrows and stops above the knees, she thought, remembering a polite discussion of the latest ballad of courtly love that had turned into a brief wrestling match in an alcove.
I didn?t enjoy convincing him he wasn?t as irresistibly attractive as the fifth brandy told him he was Which she?d done via a ringing slap across the chops that left him bleeding from lips cut against his own teeth, no maidenly restraint there. She wasn?t as strong as the burly blond noble, but she?d trained to the sword all her life and there had been plenty of power behind the blow. He?d taken it in silence, bowed, turned and left, not being suicidal enough to draw on her or strike back even when drunk-that had been in Castle Todenangst, the heart of House Arminger?s power.
And besides the Protector?s Guard ready to come at the first call, Tiphaine d?Ath had been in the next room. The Grand Constable would have cut him to pleading, sobbing ribbons on the dueling field and then stood watching him bleed to death by inches, her head cocked slightly to one side and that chilly little smile on her lips. The thought made Mathilda shiver a little even now. Even with nothing said those iceberg-colored eyes had narrowed a little and followed Piotr as he stalked out. Pursing her lips while her left hand?s fingers moved like graceful cables of living steel on the long hilt of her sword, and her right turned a hothouse rose beneath her nose.
Tiphaine liked killing people who annoyed her, men particularly; and she?d been as protective of Mathilda as a mother cat with a kitten as far back as the heir to the throne of Portland could remember. It was rather like having a friendly tiger running tame in the house; you could forget the nature of the beast except that every now and then the claws slid free for a moment.