Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [160]
“You put yourself in a damned silly position to begin with. But you can put half the blame, if you like, on the universal habit of pattering off to Dandy Hunter with one’s troubles. Is that a fair comment?”
The red-haired boy flushed, and then went pale. “I suppose so, yes. All right. I suppose I should apologize again. Or would one omnibus grovel cover all past and future failings?”
“Anything,” said Lymond, “that will prevent you from leaping like a chamois to unutterable conclusions. Seen all you want to, Johnnie?”
The white teeth flashed. “I like watching acrobatics. If you want me again—”
“—I shall consult the viscera of a fish louse. Goodbye!”
Gideon found himself looking into a pair of snapping brown eyes. “He pays well,” murmured Johnnie; and nipping his pony between his knees, darted off. The Master’s gaze, unusually wide, followed him.
It had been folly to lose his temper, however briefly, and both he and Gideon knew it.
* * *
Unlike his predecessor Mr. Crouch, Gideon Somerville had within him considerable resources of scholarship and wit. Life at Shortcleugh he found full of a freakish interest; and after two days he had a thoroughgoing admiration for the assurance with which the dominus quod-libetarius did his job.
On the second day he was brought down from the top floor to Lymond’s room, and began himself, briskly, on entering. “Your plan now, I take it, is to exchange me for Samuel Harvey.”
Lymond considered this, tapping his teeth. “Do you think the Protector would give Harvey up?”
“I like to think he won’t,” said Gideon.
The Master threw the pen he was holding on the desk and got up. “I doubt if Lady Lennox can persuade him a second time. But in any case, you’re a friend of Lord Grey’s. He’ll bring Harvey north if the Protector doesn’t.”
“He may,” said Gideon. “But it won’t make any difference. I’ve no intention of buying my freedom at the price of someone else’s life. Money, yes: you have a right to ransom me if you wish. But you’ll neither find me nor make me a party to any other arrangements, alive or—or dead.”
Lymond moved restlessly. “Honest men are notoriously hard to do business with.… Harvey’s life will be quite safe with me.”
Gideon said, “I’m afraid I cannot take the risk.”
“Your wife wouldn’t see it as a risk.”
“My wife would agree with me,” said Gideon in a final tone, and waited again.
Lymond prowled across and reseated himself. “You can’t stop me, of course,” he said flatly. “I’ve only to send your signet ring and a message to Grey, and keep you stuffed full of drugs till the exchange is effected.”
“I recognize that, of course,” said Gideon. “But I’ll make it as diff-difficult as I can.”
“Then I’ll offer you another bargain,” said Lymond, and looked up suddenly. “Since honesty is your surest asset, let us gamble with that. There is your sword, your knife and the key of your room. There is a horse waiting for you downstairs. You are perfectly free to go home provided you will take it on your conscience to arrange for me to meet Harvey without any danger to my life, and with any measures you like to safeguard his.”
The word “free” startled Gideon into movement; then he put the tips of his clean fingers together and surveyed them calmly.
What was the flaw? Not a threat to his health: he had to be kept alive for the purpose of the exchange. But as soon as he left his prison, he was out of Lymond’s control. He could go home and do nothing further: this time he would set a guard, he promised himself grimly, that wouldn’t admit a one-legged mouse. Or he could go home and make the desired arrangements, and then capture Lymond in turn when he came. Either way, the Master was putting himself entirely at his, Gideon’s, mercy.
As if answering his thoughts, Lymond’s voice said, “There isn’t any trick, though you can take time to hunt for one if you like. Whatever you do, the power and the initiative are with you, and not with me.”
“Why?” asked Gideon bluntly.
“An Easter present.” And as Gideon continued to frown at him, Lymond said coolly, “I owe your