A Path to Coldness of Heart

Chapter Fifteen:

Summer, Year 1017 AFE:

Sedlmayr

Dahl Haas and Aral Dantice rode ahead to make the arrangements. Kristen slipped into Sedlmayr soon afterward. Her party followed, a few people at a time. They all vanished into the home of Cham Mundwiller and his brothers.

Cham was a long time dead but his kin shared his vision. They would support the lost king’s grandson while the younger Bragi continued policies parented by Queen Fiana and the first King Bragi.

Kristen was a believer. Her father had been a Wesson soldier who had risen to become King’s Champion.

Kristen’s party assembled in a banquet room in the Mundwiller compound, which was a minor fortress. From without the public saw a square, three-story structure a hundred forty feet to the side, without windows at ground level. Light entered the second level through archers’ slits. There were regular, shuttered windows on the third floor. Stepping back, the outsider would see the stone tower that stood in the yard inside. That final refuge could be entered only by climbing a ladder.

All important Sedlmayrese families lived in some sort of urban fortress. Business and political disputes could become quite animated.

The Mundwiller compound stood out because its architecture had been adopted from cities farther west.

During the reigns of Fiana and Bragi, Sedlmayr had become a semiautonomous city-state acknowledging the Crown while disdaining the nobility and any feudal obligations.

There were other, similar charter towns. All were rich. Sedlmayr was weathering the current chaos with less hardship than any Nordmen demesne.

There was jealousy and resentment. Naturally. But prevailing economic conditions made it impossible for the Nordmen to impose themselves.

All of which Kristen learned within minutes of her arrival. She and hers were in a room so crowded with Sedlmayrese that the heat was becoming intolerable. Many of those bodies had gone too long unwashed, as well.

Body odor was not something most people noticed. Kristen did so because the Sedlmayrese diet was heavy on pork. Sedlmayrese smelled different.

Bight Mundwiller was the youngest of the surviving Mundwiller brothers. His family had assigned him to Kristen. He stuck like a jealous lover, left hand always on the hilt of a long knife. Kristen suspected that he had not been pleased with the assignment before he met her. Now she feared she would not be able to get shut of him.

Dahl and Aral Dantice were amused.

Bight was seventeen.

The grand dame of the clan, Ozora Mundwiller, called for silence.

Silence rained down immediately.

A raised eyebrow from Ozora Mundwiller could alter the destiny of the clan.

The old woman said nothing after the silence fell.

Aral stepped up to address the crowd. He told everyone that Queen Inger’s writ no longer had any force outside Vorgreberg’s wall. Kristen whispered to Dahl, “What is he doing?”

“I’m not sure. How about we listen and find out?” He slipped an arm around her waist.

Dantice went into detail about the situation in Vorgreberg. Kristen found his report depressing.

Inger had a staff sorcerer. He appeared to be competent. His main assignment was to find the missing treasury money.

Those who thought young Bragi should be king had little more influence in the countryside. The Nordmen nobility were content to operate without any strong central authority. Kristen thought they were being short-sighted. In time they would realize that life was better when there was a strong king in Vorgreberg.

She whispered her thoughts to Dahl. He said, “Tell these people.”

She understood. They wanted to know if she could think. So she spoke up.

Ozora Mundwiller nodded. “That’s true, child. But I think you see the flaw in your argument as well. Periods of prosperity and peace were few and brief because we were so often at war, if not with El Murid or Shinsan, then with one of our neighbors. And if not with any of those, then with ourselves for whatever reason seemed fashionable. Those who ponder such things believe Old Meddler caused most of the turmoil.”

Ozora Mundwiller had to be ninety, yet was neither stooped nor frail. She had no trouble making herself heard. “The remarkable truth is that, given any window of peace, even as briefly as a few months, Kavelin produces wealth and makes life better for its peoples.”

The woman surveyed her audience. “We have entered upon such a period of peace, if only because every faction is exhausted. Things are getting better. Those who look backward do not see that. They see wanderers on the road, looking for work. They do not see that work found everywhere, in field and forest. They see castles falling into disrepair because the nobility have squandered their fortunes on aggression. They do not see the new mills and mines. They do not notice the caravans beginning to move through the Savernake Gap. Where they are particularly constipated of outlook they have failed to see the remarkable explosion in agricultural confidence brought on by what has been the most benign and propitious climate to bless us in a generation.”

Ozora paused. Tentative applause tickled the silence. Kristen realized she knew nothing about what the woman was saying. She did, in fact, have very little idea what was going on anywhere in the kingdom. Which might be the old woman’s point.

One theme had run through the reigns of the old Krief, his childbride Fiana, and her lover King Bragi. Each had been determined to do what was best for Kavelin, not for themselves. Each had made huge mistakes and had committed dreadful sins but none of them ever forgot that they were part of something bigger than themselves. Each, in his or her way, had been married to Kavelin, forsaking all others.

Kristen looked up at the old woman. She understood where this was going.

Sedlmayr would support Bragi II-provisionally. Sedlmayr would not spend lives or treasure to put him on the throne. He would be protected till time decided between him and Fulk.

Ozora Mundwiller suffered from the disease that had afflicted Kavelin’s last three monarchs. She would not support anyone who would not keep the peace and who would not keep the state hard on the course those monarchs had plotted.

Inger wanted to shift course. Her support had collapsed. She could make no changes. She was a fever that had to run its course.

The only guarantee that Kristen and Bragi would follow the desired course was the girl’s word.

Ozora Mundwiller painted her into a corner. Her only exit was to publicly swear to pursue the ideals of her father-in-law.

She glared at Aral Dantice. Had he shaped this situation deliberately, perhaps with the connivance of Michael Trebilcock?

…

Babeltausque joined Queen Inger for breakfast, at her request. “Tell me you have something positive for me,” she said.

“You will have to judge.”

“About what happened to Colonel Gales?”

“Those who held him have scattered like startled mice. We did identify a girl known as Haida Heltkler. Miss Heltkler hasn’t been seen since she left the Twisted Wrench with a pail of beer.”

Nathan Wolf had told Inger all that already. “And the butcher was cleared?”

“Mr. Black claims he was framed. He might actually have been.”

“Who would do that? And why?”

“The girl. She’s his niece. Busybodies in the neighborhood think she might have been getting back for him having taken indecent liberties.”

The sorcerer was alert for any nuance of response. He was sure Inger’s male relatives had taken liberties with her when she was young.

He needed to know how much she would tolerate.

He was safely free of the Duke now. He was in a good place to indulge his own secret needs.

Those had begun to surface the night he looked into the eyes of that girl Haida.

The Queen shrugged. “Is that important?”

“Only in the sense that someone may have wanted the butcher to suffer.”

“It’s an odd thing to be distressed about. But I’ll take your word.”

“Most gracious of you. Majesty, we will continue to look at that, hoping the villains give themselves away. Meantime, I must deliver some unhappy news. Mr. Wolf and I have identified the spy.”

“And?”

“The spy is the doctor. He uses Toby as his runner.”

“That can’t be. That old man has never been anything but the castle doctor. He was the castle doctor even while Shinsan occupied Kavelin.”

“I share your disappointment. I didn’t want to believe it myself. I like Wachtel. But there is no doubt. Something must have changed.”

“What could that be?”

“I don’t know. I suggest we ignore it. We gain nothing by arresting him. Let’s keep treating him as a national treasure but don’t let him near anything interesting.”

“Make sure of that and I’ll go along.”

“With Toby, too. The boy may actually be the lead conspirator.”

Inger shook her head, mumbled. Babeltausque suspected that she was hurt by Wachtel’s treason. He wondered, too, why she never had the boy king close by. Fulk was little, sure, and sickly, but he should be suckling the ways of kingship along with mother’s milk. Though he never got near his true mommy’s teat.

Inger asked, “What about the money?”

“Still missing. Mr. Wolf and I have exhausted every idea we could generate. We’re reduced to doing what everyone else has. Trying to recreate the itinerary of the thieves and search everywhere along the way.”

“Others are looking?”

“It’s supposed to be a lot of money.” Careful to sound neutral, he added, “We may have to accept the possibility that the money has been taken already. Perhaps by General Liakopulos. Or maybe Michael Trebilcock has had it all along.”

Inger snapped, “Keep looking! Never stop looking. That money is our only hope of hanging on here.”

A servant brought word that Nathan Wolf wanted to see his Queen right away.

Inger looked at the sorcerer. He shrugged. “Send him in.”

Babeltausque was irked. Wolf ’s timing was awful. He had been about to nibble around the edges of his need.

Wolf wasted no time. “Kristen has moved into Sedlmayr. The Mundwillers have been taken her in. Sedlmayr’s elders have declared for Bragi. Again.”

“When can we expect trouble?” Inger glanced at Babeltausque. Her look said find that treasure fast.

Wolf said, “We won’t have to, apparently.”

“Nathan?”

“Their strategy, that they mean to preach everywhere, will be to ignore us.”

Babeltausque observed, “That’s an odd way of doing business.”

“I report what was reported to me. They intend to take a business approach. They will consolidate the kingdom from Sedlmayr, avoiding any fighting. Looks to me like they’ll end up in control of the economy. The Estates will accommodate themselves to the reality.”

Inger said, “There is something you don’t want to tell me, Nathan. What would that be?”

“I don’t want to upset you more than you already are.”

The sorcerer forced a bland face.

“Spit it out.”

“Majesty, the people backing Kristen are making no military preparations. They don’t consider them necessary. They expect us to collapse under the weight of our own incompetence.”

Nathan tried to soften the sting. Likely the people he mentioned themselves named no name but Inger’s.

The Queen said, “We shall disappoint them.” Her look told Babeltausque he was the man to make or break the future.

He left with Wolf, disappointed. He had not managed to lay any groundwork.

Wolf stayed with Babeltausque all the way to the latter’s apartment. “Do not despair, Mr. Wolf. We aren’t yet out of options.”

“Did you get anything from that corpse?”

“No. That was a head game with our enemies. Cunning will have to make up for what we lack in money and numbers.”

Wolf was not reassured.

Babeltausque wondered how long Nathan would endure. The rest of the Itaskians would follow if he deserted.

…

Babeltausque slipped a silver groat to the warder. The man wandered off, probably to the Twisted Wrench. He forgot his keys.

For a month, now, there had been only one prisoner. The man whimpered when he heard keys jingle.

Babeltausque peered in at Dane of Greyfells. The Duke’s situation was no longer so grim. He had been moved to a better cell. He had lamps. He ate the same as the garrison. He had his own chamber pot, cycled daily. He had a small table, a chair, pen, ink, and inexpensive paper, though he was permitted no communication with anyone outside. There was fresh straw for the floor each five days.

He had a cot, a pillow, and a soldier’s rough blanket.

“Doing good for an unpopular prisoner,” the sorcerer observed.

Greyfells cowered in a corner. He made a mewling sound when Babeltausque rattled the keys.

The sorcerer stared for half a minute, then grumbled, “Evidently the balance has been rectified. This doesn’t interest me anymore. Be at peace, My Lord.” He returned the way he had come, leaving the keys where he had found them. Soon afterward he left the castle. He did not care who noticed his departure.

…

Chames Marks, known also as Chames Felt, Ghaiman Felt, Marcus Michaels, and a half-dozen others, had returned to his apothecary shop after a brief hiatus. The castle folk were not interested in him by any name despite his known connection to Haida Heltkler.

He did not trust that indifference despite assurances that Nathan Wolf and the sorcerer had given him only the briefest look. They seemed confident that he had no interests outside his apothecary business.

Chames thought those people might be smart enough to see that his business made a good cover for traffic generated by espionage. Maybe they based their thinking on the fact that he had a broad, solid business, not just a storefront. Maybe his best character witness, Dr. Wachtel, had been found out and was being played. He decided to go about his business as though every breath was scrutinized.

He replaced Haida Heltkler with Seline Shalot, a younger, more flamboyant girl the castle folks ought to be able to suborn. She could deliver regular reports on how boring he was.

He grinned. The game was getting dangerous. He savored the heady risk.

…

Summer was on the wane. Early crops were being harvested. Across Kavelin anyone not committed otherwise became involved in the harvest; reaping, winnowing, slaughtering, preserving, storing. A thousand tasks had to be managed. Crops were good everywhere. Piglets grown into hogs and lambs grown into sheep were spared the killing knife because their sacrifice would not be needed. There was forage enough to bring them through the winter so they could be bred to expand the herds and flocks.

Prosperity threatened not just Kavelin but all of the Lesser Kingdoms. There was but one evil omen.

That monster harbinger, that angel of evil, the Unborn, had become a fixture of the nighttime sky, haunting Kavelin, its presence blatant.

Wicked old Varthlokkur wanted it known that he was watching. That hideous lich caused a hundred schemes to miscarry. Even those who thought Varthlokkur ought to see them favorably tried to avoid being noticed by the Unborn.

…

Dahl Haas said, “I don’t understand why you feel so negative, love. It’s all going good. Even the Estates are coming around.”

“But they don’t mean it in their hearts. Bragi looks like the coming thing so they’re covering their asses.”

“Yeah. But you’re thinking too much. Most people don’t look past the end of next week. Have faith in the stupidity of your friends and of your enemies.”

“Dahl, I’d rather not think at all.”

They were alone. The soldier leaned in and planted an ardent kiss on the king’s mother. The king’s mother responded enthusiastically.

Haas pulled back. “Ozora is brilliant. It’s going exactly how she predicted. Time is our champion now. Inger won’t last much longer.”

“Aral says she’s trying hard to find the missing treasury money. If she does…”

“She’ll be disappointed. Assuming Aral told the truth.”

“Uhm?”

“He claimed Michael said there wasn’t much treasury left.”

“It grows in the telling?”

“Because of wishful thinking.”

“Does Varthlokkur know? There have been so many Unborn sightings. That makes me nervous.”

“Which would be the point. Varthlokkur and Bragi had a falling out but that didn’t end the wizard’s interest in Kavelin.”

Kristen was sure Kavelin would hear directly from the wizard soon.

…

Babeltausque slipped into the abandoned house, quivering with anticipation. He paused in the darkness, looked back into the moonlight. Eager though he was, he did not move for minutes. He dared not be tracked by Inger’s enemies.

He sensed watchers every time he left the castle. He did nothing to confound them by day but for these nocturnal ventures he used every trick available.

Satisfied that he had arrived unnoticed, he drifted into the interior. Ghost fire revealed the damage done by treasure hunters.

For a long time every hunter started with the house, but no longer. A hundred visitations had produced only a few random copper coins from beneath furniture or, in one case, wedged between floorboards.

There was an intimidation factor, too. The owner had left numerous booby traps. Men had died. No trap had yet been found actually guarding anything. They were not based on western magic so they antedated the night the treasury disappeared.

Once he became the Queen’s own sorcerer Babeltausque spawned rumors that bigger and more deadly traps had yet to be sprung. He then installed a few of those himself.

At first he wanted the house shunned because he suspected the treasury might actually be there, despite repeated failures to find it. Then he had come to appreciate the place for its more arcane possibilities.

He had yet to explore it all. There were areas where the residual sorcery was so brawny it frightened him, left him feeling like he was sliding through a canebrake of spells. He never stopped turning up new facets of the most magically active site in Kavelin. Still, he had yet to make an effort to chart its defenses or uncover what it was hiding.

Because it was shunned it was now the place he went when he wanted to be alone, to relax, to enjoy.

He had been conquered by his need. He had begun to indulge it. Here.

He could wait no longer. He must run to his beloved.