Glen Cook - An Ill Fate Marshalling(1).pdf - Glen Cook - Punkroc

FATAL FLAW

"You really are scared," Michael said, "aren't you?"

"Ragnorson's never quite rational about women," Prataxis replied. "And there

are so many women involved this time that I can't pretend to predict his

behavior.

"Nepanthe. Mist. Inger. Kristen. Sherilee. Each pulling Bragi in a different

direction, and each a danger. Nepanthe cost us Varthlokkur's help. Mist nearly

killed Bragi during the coup, then went away, taking that source of support.

Queen Inger has turned like a mad dog.

Kristen's scheming to have her son designated crown prince. And this-thing-

with Sherilee has him completely distracted at a time when every minute has to

be devoted to keeping the king dom on a steady course."

Michael nodded. "And now there's Yasmid, pulling him into the desert."

Prataxis dropped into a chair. "What are we going to do?"

Look for these TOR Books by Glen Cook

THE BLACK COMPANY

an ill fate marshalling

reap the east wind

shadows linger

the white rose

GLEN COOK

An Ill Fate Marshalling

TOR

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this

book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely

coincidental.

thereof in any form.

First printing: January 1988 A TOR Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc. 49 West 24th Street New York, NY

10010

ISBN: 0-812-53379-8 Can. No.: 0-812-53380-1

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

0987654321

Prologue;

Year 1013 After the Founding of the Empire of Hkazar: Castle Greyfells in

Duchy Greyfells, in Northern Itaskia

THE COLONEL STALKED through the quiet corridors, each step charged with the

nervous energy of a caged panther. Ser vants got out of his path, turned to

watch after he passed. His tension surrounded him with an aura of danger.

He reached the door of the chamber to which he had been summoned. He stared at

it, rose onto the balls of his feet, settled back. He was afraid of what might

lie on the other side. This was more than the portal to a room. It was a

doorway to tomorrow, and he didn't like the smell of it.

Something was afoot. He had come to the castle last evening, and had found it

infested with tension. The Duke was planning something. His people were

scared. All the recent Dukes had become involved in schemes that failed, and

each failure had brought violence down on the family and its retainers.

The Colonel steeled himself, knocked.

"Enter."

He stepped inside. Six men were seated along the sides of a long table. The

Duke himself sat at the table's head. He gestured, indicating the seat at the

table's foot. The Colonel sat down.

The Duke said, "Now I'll end the speculation. Our cousin Inger has received an

offer of marriage."

One of the others asked, "That's why all the whispers and night messengers?

Pardon me, Dane, but that seems a little. . . ."

"Let me expand. You'll see why it's a matter for the highest family councils.

"Our cousin nursed in a hospital during the siege of the City by Shinsan's

forces. She became romantically involved

with a patient. Rather a torrid affair, I gather, though she was

understandably reluctant to part with details. When the siege broke and the

war moved southward, she thought it was over. She heard nothing from the man.

The usual story. Used by a soldier who moved on.

"But four days ago she received a proposal of marriage from the man. She

thought it over, then came to me for advice.

"Gentlemen, the gods have smiled on the family at last. They've handed us a

golden opportunity. Our cousin's suitor is Bragi Ragnarson, Marshall of

Kavelin, who commanded the allied armies during the Great Eastern Wars." Dead

silence held the room for half a minute. The Colonel didn't even breath.

Ragnarson. Blood enemy of the Greyfells for a generation. Responsible for the

assassination of one Duke and the bloody abortion of half a dozen family

projects. Probably the man most hated by everyone in the room, saving himself.

He was just a soldier. He didn't hate anyone.

He began to sense the shape of the shadow and didn't like it. It was in the

tradition of Greyfells schemes.

The six all started talking at once. The Duke held up a hand. "Please?" He

waited. Then, "Gentlemen, if that news isn't enough to excite you, consider

this. Those fools down there are going to make him King. They couldn't find

anybody else willing to take the crown. Do you see? This is an opportunity not

only to avenge ourselves on an ancient enemy, it's a chance to steal the crown

of the richest and most strategically placed of the Lesser Kingdoms. A chance

for us to move our base out of Itaskia entirely and free ourselves of the

miserable nuisance of a perpetually inimi cal Crown. A chance to seize the

most important counter in the conflict between east and west. A chance to

recoup the greatness we've lost."

The Duke's excitement communicated itself to the men at the sides of the

table. The Colonel was less intrigued. Here was more Greyfells dirty work, and

he had a feeling he would be asked to carry part of the load. Why else was he

here?

The Duke said, "The simple, basic question is, should we let our cousin

accept?" He smiled. "Or, do we dare not let her? It would be a sin to ignore

an opportunity like this.

Eh?"

No one demurred. Someone said, "But we couldn't just let it go and hope."

"Of course not. Inger would be the lever. The foot in the door. The

distraction. Right now she just wants to see her leman again, but I imagine we

can get her to be the family's agent. For insurance, and to take charge of the

day-to-day details, I suggest we send the Colonel here."

The Colonel kept his features rigidly controlled. So there it was. And it

stunk. There were times when he wished he didn't owe this family a debt of

loyalty.

The Duke asked, "Can anyone propose a reason why we shouldn't pursue the

policy I'm suggesting?"

Heads shook. One man said, "Something as good as this, you needn't have

asked."

"I wanted unanimity of purpose going in. Carried, then? Pursue the

possibilities, at least till we see some insuperable stumbling block?"

Heads nodded.

"Good. Fine." The Duke's voice was silky with pleasure. "I thought you'd like

it. That's all for now. Let me look into it further. Let me see if there are

pitfalls. I'll keep you posted. You can go now." He leaned back. As everyone

neared the door, "Oh. Don't discuss this with anyone. Anyone at all. Colonel,

yes, I want you to stay."

The Colonel had risen but not left the table. He seated himself again. He

rested his forearms on the tabletop and stared at a point over the Duke's

right shoulder.

Once the door closed, the Duke said, "Actually, we're farther along than I

admitted. Babeltausque put me in touch with some old friends from the Pracchia

days. They've agreed to help." Babeltausque was a sorcerer in the family

employ. The Colonel loathed him.

"That's a strange face you've got there, Colonel. You don't approve?"

"No, My Lord. I don't trust the wizard."

"Perhaps not. They're a slimy, slippery breed. Neverthe less, we seem to have

adequate resources for the project. We have but to convert the woman and send

her on her way."

"I see."

"I really do get the feeling that you don't approve." "I'm sorry, My Lord. I

don't mean to appear negative." "Then you'll take the mission? You'll go to

Kavelin on our behalf? You'll be away for years." "I am yours to command, My

Lord." And how he wished he were not. But one had to pay one's dues. "Good.

Good. Make yourself free of the castle. I'll keep you posted on developments."

The Colonel rose, bowed slightly, left the room smartly. A soldier doesn't

ask, he told himself. A soldier obeys. And I, sadly, am a soldier in the

Duke's employ.

Year 1016 AFE; Rulers

BRAGI GROANED. Inger shook him again. "Come on, Your Kingship. Get up."

He cracked a lid. One glassless window stared back with a cold eye. "It's

still dark out."

"It just looks like it."

He grumbled as his feet hit the chilly floor. It was one of those ice-bottom

days, going to turn hellfire come after noon. He gathered the bearskin round

him and told himself there had to be a point to rising.

It was springtime in Kavelin. The days were hot and the nights were cold. The

weather was foul more often than not.

Bragi yawned, tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "It raining? My head feels

like it's packed with wool."

"I wouldn't argue with that. Yes. One of your steady Kaveliner drizzles."

He said what everybody always said. "Be good for the farmers."

She completed the ritual. "We need it." She posed. "Not bad for an old broad,

eh?"

"Pretty good. For a wife." There was no heart in his jest.

Her too-small mouth fashioned a pout. "What do you mean, for a wife?"

His grin was as grey as he felt. "You know what they say. That old grass

always looks greener."

"You grazing in somebody else's pasture?"

"What?" He heaved himself to his feet, stumbled round looking for his

clothing.

"Last night was only the second time this month."

He gave it the light treatment. "I'm getting old."

Something inside cawed sarcastically. He was fooling himself, not her. A nasty

black chasm yawned at his feet. Trouble was, he did not know if it was waiting

for him to try

jumping over or if he was on the other side looking back. "Is it another

woman, Ragnarson?" There wasn't any kitten in her now. She was all bitch cat.

The habitual brittle smile had left her lips.

"No." For once he was telling the truth. He didn't have a single little round-

heel on the string. The soft curves, the warm mounds, the humid thighs did not

set the fires roaring these days. They seemed more a distraction than a reason

able interest. They irritated more than excited. Was it symptomatic of age?

Time was an implacable thief. Ragnarson's growing indifference worried him.

The de parture of the drive to collect scalps left a vacuum like the loss of

an old friend. "You're sure?"

"Absodamnlutely, as friend Mocker might have said." "I wish I had met him,"

she mused. "Haroun, too. Maybe I'd know you better by knowing them." "You

should've known them. . . ." "You're changing the subject."

"Honey, I haven't had no strange in so long I wouldn't know what to do.

Probably just stand there with my thumb in my ear till the lady cussed me

out."

Inger whipped a comb through her hair. Blonde rat's nests grabbed it. She was

wondering. He had come tagged with a reputation, but had not lived up to it.

Maybe he was too busy. Kavelin was his extramarital lover. She was a demanding

mistress.

He eyed this woman who was both his wife and Kavelin's Queen. She was the one

gift the wars had given him. Time had done well by her. She was a tall,

elegant woman of brittle beauty and even more brittle humor. She had the most

intriguing mouth he had ever seen. No matter her mood, her lips seemed on the

verge of a sarcastic smile. Something about her green eyes magnified that

foreshadow of laughter.

First glance said she was a lady. Second might suggest an earthy soul. She was

an enigma, an intriguing creature hiding inside a shell that betrayed a new

mystery each time it opened. Bragi thought her as perfect a Queen as a King

could ask. She had been born for the role.

That secret smile came out of hiding. "You just might be telling the truth."

"Of course I am."

"And you're disappointed, eh?"

He did not answer that one. She had a knack for caging him with questions he

did not want to answer. "Maybe you'd better check the baby."

"You're ducking the issue again."

"Damned right."

"All right. I'll let up. What's on for today?" She insisted on being a full

Glen Cook - An Ill Fate Marshalling(1).pdf

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