Lord of Janissaries (88 page)

Art Mason raised his sword and swept it forward in command. “Drantos!” He gave a touch with his spurs and the horse moved into a swift trot. The Praetorians were taking their own sweet time, as if they wanted to tell all the barbarians that nobody made them move faster than they wanted to. For a minute Art was afraid he’d have to order the Guards down to a walk. But then the Praetorians were clear. The bright tapestries of the reviewing stand were coming up on the right.

His sword went up, trumpets blared, and the platoon sergeants shouted, “First Guards, eyes—right!”

Mason’s sword dipped in the royal salute, until the point was aimed at the ground. As the Guards trotted past the reviewing stand, he wished he’d seen more movies with cavalry parades.
Guess those Hollywood budgets didn’t run to enough trained horses. Or riders . . .

There was the little king, in armor now with that gold helmet he favored. They’d never let him give it up even if he wanted to; after the Hooey River everyone thought it was lucky. Same thing with that battle-axe of old Camithon’s.

Octavia—she looked like she was walking on air, with a smile too big for her face. Publius was grim, Titus Frugi was smiling, and they weren’t looking at each other even though they stood side by side. The captain looked worried, but on a big day like this he always did. Lady Tylara—she looked like she’d been crying. . . .

And no guesses.
Mason had gone as far as he could with guessing.
Maybe too far. Damn all.

A coded message. In a code none of Mason’s clerks could read. None of Apelles’ people either. And none of the captain’s. What in hell was Lady Tylara doing, sending a message the captain couldn’t read?

Lady Tylara at the University to Castle Dravan—and just in time for somebody to reach that town where Caradoc was killed. In a damn funny riot.

I don’t much believe in that riot.

And now what? Tell the captain he’s maybe married to Lady Macbeth? Shut up and soldier!

They were coming up to the corner of the reviewing field. Kitchen lads and girls were running from the roasting pits to the Guardsmen’s tables. They all stopped to cheer, and Mason acknowledged.

“Left wheel!”

The Guards pivoted expertly, from column of fours to company order, each quartet of horses turning as if they were tied together.

A damned good outfit, and the Second Guards were shaping up almost as well. Their cadre had missed the Hooey River and nobody was letting them forget it, so they were training the Second Guards as if they were going to have to win the next big fight singlehanded.

A good outfit.
I’m married to the outfit.

Maybe it’s time for more than that. We’re not going home. No way. Tran or no place, and damn I’m getting lonesome.

And suppose you find one like the Lady Tylara?

There’s something to be said for being single.

* * *

Tylara stood at the edge of the bed. Her fur-lined chamber robe covered her from her throat to the floor. Rick remembered better times, when she’d worn a sheer
garta
cloth nightgown. Of course the weather was warmer then, and she’d had three goblets of good wine, but—

She smiled lightly. “My husband. You have not properly celebrated the Wanax’s wedding.” She held out a wine goblet.

He tried to smile in return as he took the goblet and touched hers with it. “Thank you.”

“You are troubled.”

“Some. Mostly trying to decide what to do with Harvey Rand.”

“Rand. The Star Lord in the attempt on the Lady Gwen.”

“Him. I think I have a solution, but as Justiciar of Drantos any case involving a nobleman could end in your court.”

“Yes, if he demands.”

At least you don’t question that he’s noble. I’d hate for that question to come up.
“We can’t just hang him.”

“To be sure. It would be work for the headsman.”

“Not that either. He’s got friends.”

“I had thought he might,” she said.

“And there’s Gengrich. I need every soldier I can get. Thing is, if you have enough problems they can solve each other.”

She looked at him quizzically.

He grinned. “I thought it might work this way. Harvey gets fined the blood price for the dead sentry, and double that for not thinking ahead. Since he hasn’t got anything but his uniform, I’ll pay the fines. Then he owes me.” Rick drank half the wine. “Good stuff.”

“What will you demand in repayment?”

“Well, I thought a Tran year in the madweed plantation garrison. Nobody wants that job, but it has to be done. Even Rand’s friends can see that.”

“He will also be a long way from the men of Eqeta Rudhrig.” Her smile had faded.

“Exactly. So when Gengrich comes in, he’ll want to bargain. Rand can be another chip I hold. If Gengrich wants his title recognized he’ll have to assume responsibility for Rand. Pay his fines.” Rick shrugged. “There’s even some justice in it. Madweed guard duty’s nothing soft.”

Tylara stepped back a pace. “A wise solution, my lord. You have learned the laws and ways of the great lords very well indeed.”

“Yeah, I thought—hey, what’s wrong?”

“What makes you think there is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, you just seem—”

“There is nothing wrong, my lord.”

Rick got up and went to her. He put his arms around her and tried to draw her to him. After a moment he went back to the bed. “Sure. Nothing wrong.”

She snuffed the last candle and lay down with her back to him.

Now what? Another nightmare about Sarakos? She was all right for a minute there. Did I put my foot in it about the laws? Or what?

“Tylara, what have I done
now
?”

“Nothing. Good night, my lord.”

Something about Gwen? I should put a medal on Rand for trying to snatch Gwen?

He lay in the dark and tried to sort memories, of Tylara and Gwen, and finally he got up and found the pitcher of wine his orderly had left for him.

* * *

“My lord husband!” Octavia put down the hair brush but did not giggle, as much as she wanted to. She knew that Ganton did not like women who giggled.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I have won my wager with the Lady Gwen.”

Ganton frowned. “A wager?”

“Yes. I fear you might think it unseemly, but—”

“We both owe the Lady Gwen much. Even if it is unseemly, I will hold my tongue.”

“Your word of honor?”

“By Yatar, Christ, the honor of the throne of Drantos, my love for you, and my feet which are beginning to freeze, I swear to do no harm to the Lady Gwen by word or deed.”

“Very well. She wagered that you would wear your Browning when first you came to my bed.”

Even in the candlelight she could see Ganton’s face turning red. Then he threw back his head and howled with laughter. When he could speak again, he shrugged.

“The Lady Gwen has a most unwomanly mind. I think I am well enough armed.”

“So it would seem. But any weapon must be well wielded.”

“It shall be, and at close quarters.”

“Then let the contest begin!”

5

The narrow streets of the Outer Castle were better lit than usual tonight, although not like last night. Then there’d been bonfires on every corner, candles in every window, and torches in the hands of half the revelers staggering from drink to drink.
Big send off for the royal wedding. Not so big for me, on my last night here.

One house was brighter-lit than most. Les stopped below an open window. Voices were singing in English.

What shall we do with the Wanax Ganton?

What shall we do with the Wanax Ganton?

What shall we do with the Wanax Ganton,

Early in the morning?

Give him a ladder as a wedding present.

Give him a ladder as a wedding present.

Give him a ladder as a wedding present,

Early in the morning.

The Earth mercenaries, of course. With Jack Beazeley’s song about Ganton’s wedding. Beazeley had been more than a little nervous when he got a royal command to sing it for Ganton. By the time he got to the verse that went, “Wrap their kid in a purple diaper,” Ganton had been laughing so hard he had to call for wine when he got his breath back.

Four Guardsmen saluted at the door to Gwen’s house and passed him inside; two more escorted him up the stairs. As he knocked on the door to the private chambers, Les was beginning to wonder if they were going to tuck him into bed. Then he heard Gwen’s voice.

“Come on in. I’ve given Lady Marva the night off.”

Les swept Gwen into his arms. It was quite awhile before he could say anything that wasn’t muffled in her hair. Eventually he broke away and poured wine. “Have you heard about the Great Council meeting?”

She nodded. “Larry Warner was by earlier and told me all about it. They’re up to letting a woman be Rector of the University, but not up to letting her represent it on the Great Council.”

Les’ wine cup paused on its way to his lips.

Gwen frowned. “Les, are you jealous of Larry Warner?”

Les emptied the cup and he set it down with a steady hand. “You wouldn’t be flattered if I said I was. I wouldn’t be telling the truth, either. I may let myself be jealous someday, when I can be a full-time husband, but now, when I’m on Tran once a year if I’m lucky . . .

“Sorry. You must have been thinking about that even more than I. Here.” He put an arm around her and let her cry on his shoulder. When she stopped, he kissed her. “You’ve just made my point for me. When I’m fifty light-years away and you need a shoulder to cry on, why not Larry Warner’s? It’s a damned sight safer than Captain Galloway’s.”

“Ugh.”

“My sentiments exactly. I don’t know if Tylara’s a good friend, but she’s a bad enemy. You know she’s been trying to pump me about the Galactic Confederation, outside of the Inner Council?”

“No, but I’m not surprised. She is one shrewd lady.”

“My opinion is you could put her down in a howling wilderness, and inside of five years she’d be running the place. She might have to convince the local headman that he needed a raven-haired concubine, but that wouldn’t stop her.”

“She’d probably create a vacancy among the concubines. What did you tell her?”

“Not much. I’m not convinced she’s given up trying to hijack my ship. Rick has already told her more than I would.” He shrugged. “Not that I know much to tell. That’s Agzaral’s department.”

“If you’re not careful she’ll learn more than you know.”

“Yeah. Look, maybe I don’t think enough about local politics. Somebody tried to kidnap you last night.”

“No, that was thieves—”

“No. Not thieves. One of them was from Earth. One of Gengrich’s people. Galloway has him in a cell. Gwen, Gengrich, or somebody close to him, wanted you.”

Her eyes seemed twice as large as usual. “Why?”

“Because you’re such a damned good university administrator? Hey, it’s all right. I don’t know why. The Earth guy says it was so they’d have a better bargaining position with Rick. Me, I think they wanted your transceiver as much as anything. So they could bargain directly with the
Shalnuksis
.”

“Oh. But—Gengrich couldn’t have hoped to get away with that.”

“They aren’t sure he had anything to do with it. Right now Galloway suspects the captain of the ambassador’s guards, Aidhos do Viz. They don’t have any evidence that would justify arresting a diplomat, but they’re pretty sure he was in on it. He’d be high in Lord Gengrich’s favor if he got you, and if he failed Lord Gengrich could disavow him.”

“Gengrich is going to be dangerous, if he commands loyalty like that.”

“Captain Galloway thinks so too.”

“All right. And they asked you not to tell me. Right?”

“Right.”

“Thanks for not listening to them.”

“I did listen to them, for a while. Then—well, everybody talks about Lady Tylara’s pride, but they don’t know you the way I do.” He kissed her.

She held him until he broke away. “Look, we have to talk,” he said.

She held him. “So talk.”

He broke away and went to the door to look outside. The four Guardsmen were at the end of the hall. “My lord?”