Dragon - Dragon Companion - Dragon - Dragon Companion Part 19
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Dragon - Dragon Companion Part 19

"He's said nothing yet about the princess?"

"No, Historian. Only asked for Fredrick of Brevory."

Murdan peered again from his window.

"I'm wondering who sent him word of the captive," Graham said.

"Peter's no fool. That's the tragedy of this vicious, ambitious infighting. He'd be valuable to the crown, would he agree to work in harmony with the king."

"There've been other ambitious lordlings," recalled Graa"

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ham. "Some have succeeded, I think."

"Conflict's a way of ensuring a strong nobility and an effective royalty. But Gantrell's ambitions are not for Carolna, but for himself alone. Not even for his childrena- he has none! He has little interest in his brother's offspring, Manda says."

"Between us old friends, he may be more able than you or I would like to acknowledge. Without our opposition," observed the soldier, holding the Historian's cape out to him, "his ambitions would be poorly thwarted."

"Well, perhaps. I really just don't like Peter or his attitude or his methods. He's already made a lot of enemies for the crown, and Eduard needs all the friends he can get these days."

"You refer to the Barbarians?"

"Don't sneer! I've fought them, Graham! With halfway capable leadership they could overrun us all in less than a year."

"They've absolutely no idea of military tactics!" scoffed the other as they left the apartment and descended the stair to ground level together. "A well-disposed and well-trained army a third their strength would beat the Barbarians anytime. Lord Historian!"

"History shows, time and again, outsiders leam to play one inside faction against another and when the dust clears, the outsiders are the ones on the throne. Man, that's how the Trussloes came to power in Carolna, ten kings and a queen ago!"

"Not the same thing!" cried Graham. "Trussloes were minor northener earls before they offered to help old King Cristol. They weren't Barbarians, sire!"

"It depends on your definition of *barbarian,' " growled Murdan. "My mother's Great-Great-Grandsire used to tell how he personally had to teach Eduard Two himself which fork to use at table and not to belch after. And their practice was to expose unwanted female babies, I recall."

"Not in modern times! And from Trussloes came Alix Amanda, the Queen Alone!" objected Graham, waving his hands in agitation. "If Trussloes held women in such low regarda-as Barbarians invariably doa-why would they allow a Queen Alone on the Throne, let alone almost wor-ship her?"

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"Trussloes are, above all, political realists," Murdan told him. "Most Barbarians are. We'll have to deal eventually with this new batch of outsiders, and I don't want them assisted by internecine warfare between the king and his brother-in-law."

Graham turned to go about his business, but halted to ask one more question.

"Have we of the king's party considered dealing with Granger of Gantrell? From what I hear a"

"Manda also asked that. My answer to her was that Granger is too much under his brother's thumb. He has shown too few signs of thinking or acting on his own principlesa-if he has any. We'll watch him closely, as the princess thinks he may be on his way to independ-ent thought. She's a good judge of men. Well, she's a Trussloe!"

"She has the best of the two bloodlines, I would say," said Graham, saluting in farewell. "I go to inspect the guard. Everything must be exactly right, and there must be no compromises with security, with Gantrells close to hand."

"I don't want any Gantrells sneaking into my castle," Murdan barked after him. "That's how the Mercenary Knights managed to overcome your guard, remember?"

"Not bloody likely to forget," muttered the embarrassed captain of guards. He went his way, highly determined to leam from past mistakes.

Yet, thought Murdan to himself, pausing to pinch faded blossoms from a pot of red geraniums, it would be no sort of life to lead if we have to give up the old traditions of hospitality for fear visitors will overpower our soldiers and lower the draw after midnight. And it's men like Peter of Gantrell who, unwittingly or otherwise, turn such fine amenities into foolishness!

He sent for his barber and submitted to having his iron gray locks trimmed, combed, and perfumed while he conferred with the cook and Mistress Grumble about the lunch on the parapet and the meeting on the drawbridge afterwards.

Everything must go well. Gantrell was a formidable opponent, even in peaceful converse. He'd take full advantage of the smallest error of deed or tongue.

His thoughts turned to Princess Alix Amanda and her father and her stepmother.

Eduard, I've been keeping one thing from you, feeling that I should not add to your burden just now. Manda is in love and it seems to me, an old hand at such things, that this is quite serious. The Librarian must be reckoned with. Our Manda won't allow anyone to cross her in matters of the heart. She already knows what manner of queen she will be, if it comes to that. For her sake, I hope you and your new bride are successful in giving the crown a male claimant!

As he began his lunch on the breezy, hot parapet, he mused aloud on the matter.

"Manda may be queen, and a good one. Tom may be her consort. Will he insist on a crown? Will she want it for him? I'm willing to bet she'll insist on making him co-ruler. In truth, they'll both be much happier if Beatrix bears a healthy boy-child.

"How easily we condemn an unborn innocent to a life-time of frustration, anguish, and perhaps physical danger! We're not very civilized, after all, are we? The Barbarians don't allow their rulers to force their sons and daughters upon them. They elect the best available leader and live with the results, or die with them."

"Not the worst way of governing," Graham concluded.

"Pass the salt, you, there," Murdan growled. A page jumped forward from his place to move the salt within reach.

By turning his head and looking out over the parapet, the Historian could see the Gantrell encampment, just about where he'd camped himself while besieging his own castle. Before Thomas came.

Brightly costumed figures in front of Gantrell's vast tent were having a picnic, the Historian noted.

"My own game, played back to me!" He laughed aloud. "Well, Peter, I was playing this game when your grandfather was a wee lad playing with lath sword and paper buckler."

Five minutes before he planned to appear on the drawbridge, Murdan sent for Graham again. This time they met in Foretower bailey, surrounded by soldiers and Overhall retainers, each in his or her very best and brightest costume or uniform.

"Well, I'm ready to go out. Any word from your watchers?"

148 Don Callander "What looks like a holiday party from afar is in reality an armed squadron," said Graham grimly. "He's even dressed some of his men in dresses and skirts, to make it appear a pleasure outing. They're nervous, too, to judge by the reports, all a-fingering of swords and daggers and talking by jerks and starts."

"A good sign! He realizes he stands on loose turf, then, and is trying to put a bold face on it."

"As I see it, yes," replied the old soldier. "He's to be accompanied hither by a dozen of his best, their arms hidden beneath their cloaks."

"The span of the drawbridge allows no more than that. I'll go out unattended, except for you. Captain. Your shirtwaist is pulling out from your trousers, there. Oh, well, don't fret about it. I'll not put on such a show as Peter. You have your signals straight with the bowmen above?"

"If I push you to the ground, they'll know to shoot into the Gantrell crowd. We should have time to get inside and drop the portcullis, under the cover of their shooting. Did you wear half-armor under that blouse, as I recommended?"

"No! Too damned bulky and would slow me down, if we have to run for it," snorted Murdan. "Besides, Arcolas has produced a pretty good spell of warding that should protect you and me for long enough to get inside."

"If not, your people will be pledging fealty to Ffallmar of Ffallmar, tomorrow," said the blunt soldier.

"I trust Peter Gantrell no further than you do, Graham, my friend, but I don't think he's ready for open warfare, just yet. Well, let's see what he wants to talk about, and make him listen to what we have to say."

"One more thing," murmured Graham close to his ear.

"Say it quickly, then."

"A man was seen to leave the Overhall postern against orders, very early this morning."

"A swain aching for his beloved? A farmer concerned about a sick cow?" teased Murdan, laughing.

Graham remained grim, not meeting the Historian's joke with a smile.

"No, sire! The man who went out to visit Gantrell's camp before dawn and returned soon after was your comptroller."

"Plume? That slimy, skinny worm! I haven't trusted him DRAGON COMPANION 149.

since he came. He doesn't laugh or even smile when he should. Keep an eye on him! In the meantime, he's the best accountant I've ever paid to do my arithmetic."

"You don't want to arrest him and perhaps ask him some pointed questions, then?" asked Graham.

"Hardly! Better to let him think he's getting away with something than have to discover who his replacement might be. Speak softly and carry a long spear, I say!"

"As you wish, sire!" agreed Graham. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," agreed the Historian. He turned to his gathered minions and called, "On your toes, everyone!"

"Raise the portcullis! Lower the draw!" shouted the captain, and with a great rumble the counterbalanced grille and the heavy bridge moved, opening the main gate wide.

"DEAR Historian, how good to see you!" said Peter of Gantrell. "I am pleased that you regained your Achievement so easily from the wicked mercenaries."

"Yes, I don't doubt you in the least, m'lord. Fortunately," said Murdan, smoothly, rising halfway from his golden chair to greet the young nobleman, "the Mercenary Knights proved no match for Graham's soldiers once we got home."

"I hear your pet Dragon had something to do with the defeat of the invaders," said Peter, gesturing for his footman to place a red-lacquered chair facing the Historian. The needlepoint cushion showed a Standing Bear.

"Please sit down and let us talk," said Murdan before the other could seat himself without being asked.

Gantrell sat, looking displeased for just a moment, and opened his mouth to begin speaking.

Murdan got in his words first. "I regret to inform you that I am holding a criminal, a man attached to your house. Brevory by name."

"We can talk of him at a later time," said Peter, waving in dismissal. "He is of no importance to me."

"Then I'll not mention him again," said Murdan, quickly. "Except to say that I intend to hold him for Session in the fall. He'll be charged with kidnapping a lady of high degreea my own daughter, as it happens."

"Er, I'm so very pleased that Lady Rosemary was able 150.

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Don Callander to escape her captors, then," said the magnate.

"You've heard about that? Hardly an escape, really. She was rescued by two young friends of mine before any serious harm could be done. Your man, Predrick of Brevory, will be held responsible for the crime and the insult. Perhaps he acted on his own. I'm sure he'd quickly inform on anyone putting him up to it, when the king asks," Murdan said innocently, smiling broadly at the thought.

Peter of Gantrell scowled. "I want justice done to such a wicked young man."

"Of course you do! Have no fear. Lord Peter. The king will hear the case, I am assured. His will be the judgment a and the punishment, too, if I remember my law."

"The king himself! You surprise me. Historian. A terrible waste of the royal prerogative to insist that Eduard sit in judgment of a minor felon like this Brevory fellow."

"Not minor to me!" snarled Murdan. Regaining his composure quickly, he went on, "You can understand my feelings, I'm sure. Rosemary is my daughter, my only child. Her son, Eduard of Ffallmar, is my only male heir. If I seem overly angered by this terrible act, I must be forgiven by all fathers and mothers."

"I am neither myself," snapped Peter. "But I am so sorry, old chap! I have led us off on a side issuea."

"Not at all! I knew you would be interested to know the fate I have in mind for this Brevory person. By the way, m'lord, where's the Brevory Achievement, anyway? I don't know of it."

Peter turned several shades darker crimson but answered calmly, as though it were of no importance, "He is, as you have noted, a distant relative and a former liege man of mine, holder of a poor, small Achievement not far west of Lexor. If you weren't going to try him, I'd have done it myself. Wicked! Perverted!"

"Yes, I'm sure you'd like to have a hand in his just punishment," agreed Murdan, somewhat smugly. "I'll let you know if he says anything under interrogation that might interest you."

"Kind of you, I'm sure," Gantrell ground out. "Now a"

"I am so sorry. You had something you wished to discuss with me?" said Murdan, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, my good Historian, that I was appointed the legal guardian of Princess Royal Alix Amanda? Appointed by King Eduard, of course."

"Oh, I am very well aware of it! I understand she has been in the actual care of some lesser magnate for some years."

"Hardly a lesser magnate," snapped the lordling. "My own younger brother. Granger, has been raising her with his own two children. She has had nothing but the very best care, believe me!"

"Oh? I wasn't aware of that," lied Murdan. He gestured to one of his servants to bring him a drink. The sun on the drawbridge was quite fierce. Certainly, Lord Peter was perspiring freely. The Historian didn't offer him a drink.

"I thought you might have heard it from her, when she visited you recently," Lord Peter said pointedly.

"Princess Royal Alix Amanda? Here? I've been away at court, as you were, also. When I returned, my cas-tle had been stolen from me and I had to devote a bit of time and attention to remedying that. No, I haven't seen the Princess Royal, bless her heart, since a well, for some time. Beautiful child! Quite bright and well mannered, too. Your brother Granger must be doing a good job raising her."

"I must have been badly misinformed, then," Peter said through clenched teeth. "I was told she was here until four days ago, and left with one of your servants, riding on one of your Dragons."

"You were misinformed, of course," Murdan chuckled smoothly. "For example, I have only one Dragon in my service and he hasn't been here for some weeks. Certainly I would have known it, if a Princess Royal had been in my house."

"I am not sure you're being entirely honest with me a," began Peter, his eyes narrowing in the anger he was finding increasingly hard to suppress.

"Easy, Lord Gantrell! You of all people must know what trouble it can be to accuse a peer of being a liar. Are you prepared for such a confrontation?"

There was silence on the bridge except for the gentle murmur of Gugglerun in the moat beneath them. Not a man 152 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION.

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at arms in the open gate or on the battlements above moved a hair. Everyone within earshot had heard the implied insult and the specific challenge.

The game had reached a dangerous point.

Peter of Gantrell took a deep breath and slumped a bit in his chair.