• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The mockery in her voice drew a sardonic chuckle from both men, and the anonymous hand returned the ewer to the table. Duke Pursenose offered his glass to Maniol to be refilled.

"Tell me, what are we going to do about this Goldsword business?" he asked.

"Do?" Maniol poured for the duke. "The same thing we always do, of course-wait until the matter sorts itself out."

"Really, I don't know what the princess could have been thinking," said Lady Alamber. "It's bad enough to sleep with a petty noble, but to marry him?"

"And a Cormaeril at that," agreed Maniol. "Was she trying to make allies for Goldsword?"

"Still, there are those who feel she showed nerve, and who admire her candor," said Pursenose. "With the setbacks in the north, they say she has been showing leadership."

Maniol nodded and poured for himself. "The Hardcastles and Rallyhorns-and the Wyvernspurs, as well… Now that they have the old Cormaeril estates, they've become a family to be dealt with."

"Precisely the point." Lady Alamber drained her glass again. "On the one hand, she's produced an heir." She held one hand out and lowered it dramatically. "On the other hand-it's a Cormaeril." She held out the other hand and lowered it. "There's no telling who's going to win this thing."

"That is hardly important, my dear," Maniol said, refilling her glass. "What is important is that we don't lose in it."

"In normal times, yes," said Pursenose, "but with these dreadful ghazneths running about tearing the place up and orcs and goblins loose to the north… it's bad for the ledgers, and it could get worse. It might be less expensive if we simply choose a side."

Maniol shook his head vigorously. "And what if we were to choose the wrong side? You saw what Azoun did to the Bleths and Cormaerils after the Abraxus Affair. I doubt the Sembians would be any more gracious if we were to side with Tanalasta against them." He took a long pull from his glass, then made a sour face. "I say, the mold must have gotten to this cask."

Pursenose had already noticed the same thing, but had not wanted to insult his host by complaining. "There does seem to be a touch of vinegar to it," he said politely. "But it seems to me we're overlooking the ghazneths in all this. Aren't they the real enemy? If we let things go on like this, we'll all lose our crops this year."

"Which will only drive the price of our stores that much higher." Maniol's sly smile was tainted by a sudden flushing of the brow. "Nobody ever said it was easy to be a noble." He grimaced at a sudden burning down in his belly, but managed to keep a polite smile as he turned to draw Lady Alamber back into the conversation. "Wouldn't you agree, Bridgette?"

But Lady Alamber was not saying anything. She sat slumped in her chair, mouth agape and red-rimmed eyes staring into the sky. Bloody drool ran from the corner of her mouth and an acidic stench rose from the chair beneath her.

Duke Pursenose hissed in pain and the glass slipped from his hand to shatter against the stone patio. "I say, Maniol," he gasped, slumping down in his own chair. "This wine does seem a bit… foul."

Lord Crownsilver was past caring. His head hit the table with a hard thump, and a long, wet rasp gurgled from his mouth. Still gloved in white, the anonymous hand reached over and removed the ewer from the table.

* * * * *

From the King's Balcony, the Royal Gardens resembled the camp of some vast army settling in for a long siege. It was filled with smoky pillars rising from small campfires, and old sails, waxed tarps, and anything else that could serve as a tent were strung between delicate fruit trees and carefully shaped topiaries. There were people everywhere, gathered together in small, miserable groups, sleeping alone under trees, milling about listlessly looking for lost children and familiar faces. The smell of food, squalor, and aromatic flowerbeds all merged into one, creating a greasy, too-sweet aroma. The cloying smell reminded Tanalasta