A Young Man Without Magic (33 page)

“Perhaps, when you have a moment, you might stop by, and have a word with a member or two of the landgrave's staff? I'm sure it would be a great relief to everyone if we could put these rumors to rest.”

“I'm sure it would.” He glanced at the front door, then back at Anrel. “You could go yourself, you know. I could give you directions; it's not hard to find.”

“Thank you, but I'm afraid that won't be practical—Master Lir has hired me for certain duties that require me to remain close at hand at all times.”

“Chaperoning his daughters, I suppose. That youngest one, Perynis, is a little heartbreaker, isn't she? But I believe you said you had your eye on the middle one.”

“I'm afraid I couldn't say,” Anrel said with a smile and a wink.

“Of course.” Dorrin glanced at the door again. “I can't go just now,
but I'm sure I'll find a chance to stroll up Bridge Street in the next day or two, and a word or two with a coachman or footman would be a pleasant diversion.”

“That would please me very much,” Anrel said. “I'm sure it's nothing, but I'm sure you know how troublesome a rumor can be, even if it's no more than a malicious lie. Best to put it to rest immediately.”

“Indeed,” Dorrin agreed. “Lord Allutar—who would have thought it?”

“Who, indeed?” He bowed to the doorkeeper. “Thank you, good sir; now, if you'll forgive me, duty calls.”

“Of course.”

As Anrel headed back toward the Lir family gathering in the back room, he allowed himself a smile.

He had no idea whether there were really any rumors circulating about Lord Allutar—but he was certain that now there
would
be, even if Master Kabrig was far more discreet than Anrel thought he would be. That would provide a petty irritant for the landgrave, and anything that discomfited Valin's killer would please Anrel.

More important, if there
was
any actual impediment to Lord Allutar marrying Mistress li-Dargalleis and siring children on her, the landgrave's staff would almost certainly know about it, and Master Kabrig would report it back to Anrel.

If there was no such impediment—well, that would be unfortunate, and Anrel would need to create one. He had not yet devised a means to do so, but he was sure something would occur to him in time.

The following afternoon, while the Lir family was attending to the business of witchcraft, Anrel was in the Boar's Head's saloon, enjoying a fine and surprisingly inexpensive merlot. He looked up when the door opened; two men stepped in, and Anrel was startled to recognize both of them.

The presence of Dorrin Kabrig was hardly unexpected, but the man following him was someone Anrel had last seen in Alzur, a season ago—and someone who he did not want to see him. He started to turn away and look for somewhere to hide, but he did not have time.

“Master Adirane,” Dorrin called. “A moment of your time, if you would.”

Anrel sighed, and turned back to the new arrivals. He tried not to let his concern show, but he was well aware that at any moment he might need to run for his life.

“Master Kabrig,” he said, lifting his glass. “A pleasure to see you again.”

The other man's mouth twitched. “I thought it might be you, ‘Master Adirane,' ” he said.

“Hollem,” Anrel said, acknowledging the man he had instantly recognized as Lord Allutar's footman. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know your full name.”

“Hollem tel-Guriel,” he said, holding out a hand.

Astonished by this friendly gesture, Anrel set down his wine and shook
hands firmly. “Master tel-Guriel,” he said. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“And I never expected to see
you
again
anywhere
,” Hollem said. Anrel grimaced.

“How is it you two know each other?” Dorrin asked suspiciously.

“Oh, we grew up in the same village,” Anrel said, before Hollem could speak. “I left under unfortunate circumstances, though.”

“
Very
unfortunate,” Hollem said.

“Indeed,” Anrel agreed. “And what brings you to the Boar's Head, Master tel-Guriel?”

“Oh, that's simple enough,” Hollem said. “When Master Kabrig came around asking questions about certain rumors, I demanded to know where he had heard these absurd allegations, and wouldn't tell him a thing until I had a name. When he told me ‘Adirane' I thought it must be you, and I asked if he could arrange a meeting.”

“Perhaps I should have used another name,” Anrel said ruefully.

“Perhaps you should,” Hollem said. “After all, you have in the past.” He waved that aside. “Though I would have wanted to meet you, in any case.”

“Of course.” Anrel glanced around. The reference to a past alias seemed to imply that the footman knew him to be Alvos. “You know, given the circumstances, I confess to some surprise that you do not appear to be accompanied by members of the city watch.”

“A pleasant surprise, I trust.”

“Very much so.”

“Why would the city watch be involved?” Dorrin asked, glancing from one man to the other.

“I told you the circumstances of my departure were unfortunate,” Anrel said. “I assure you, I have committed no crime in Beynos, but there may be some question about my actions elsewhere. If our friend here has not brought me to their attention for past offenses, though, then the watchmen have no reason to be looking for me.”

“I have my reasons for wanting to keep matters between ourselves,” Hollem said. “In fact, is there somewhere more private we could speak?”

“I have a room upstairs,” Anrel said. “I share it with certain others,
but I don't believe any of them are there at the moment.” He picked up his wine and finished it quickly.

“Wait a minute,” Dorrin protested. “What's this about? I thought you just wanted to know who was spreading rumors about your master. And I thought
you
just wanted to know whether the rumors were true.”

“I'm afraid it's more complicated than that,” Anrel said, wondering whether it might be worth attempting to pay Dorrin for his silence.

Hollem's thoughts apparently ran along similar lines, as a coin appeared in his hand. “Master Kabrig,” he said, “I thank you sincerely for bringing me here, but don't let me take up any more of your valuable time.” He tucked the coin, a half-guilder by the look of it, into Dorrin's coat pocket.

Dorrin looked down, then thrust his hand into his pocket to feel the coin's size and weight. He blinked.

“Of course,” he said. “In fact, I think Master Sharduil had a job for me that I really ought to be doing.”

“Well, we shan't keep you,” Anrel said. “Thank you.”

With a final suspicious glance, Dorrin turned away.

When the door had closed behind him, Anrel set his empty glass on the bar with a threepenny coin beside it—the wine had been twopence, but the extra penny was to keep the barkeeper from feeling ill-used. That done, he led the way through the back parlor to the inn's central passage, then upstairs and through the maze of corridors that led to the big drafty room above the stable.

As he had thought, it was uninhabited; the witches were selling their witchcraft, and Garras was either helping them or amusing himself in some fashion. Anrel showed Hollem in, then closed the door behind them.

Hollem looked around the room, and shivered. Anrel crossed to the stove and slid open the dampers, then opened the stove door and shoveled in a scoop of fresh charcoal. It would not be enough to heat the room properly, but it would, he hoped, take off the worst of the chill.

“Now,” Anrel said, as he latched the stove door and straightened up, “much as I appreciate it, suppose you tell me why I have not been
dragged off to a dungeon somewhere. Is that Lord Allutar's doing, or your own?”

“Mine, so far,” Hollem said. “I haven't spoken to Lord Allutar yet, not since your friend gave me your name. After all, I couldn't be
sure
this Dyssan Adirane was really Anrel Murau until I had seen you for myself.”

“But you could have brought a brace of guards along, if you chose,” Anrel said.

“Yes, I could,” Hollem agreed. “And if I
wanted
to see you in a dungeon, I would have.”

“I assume, from what you have said so far, that you
are
aware of my reasons for not returning to Alzur?”

Hollem nodded. “Oh, yes. Your actions in Naith are not a secret from my master or his household. We do know who the infamous Alvos was.”

“Somehow,” Anrel said, “I cannot bring myself to think you have become one of the radical populists, dedicated to the overthrow of the nobility, and therefore unwilling to aid Lord Allutar in the apprehension of a rabble-rouser like me. In fact, I find it very difficult to entertain any doubt at all about your loyalty to our overlord—I have certainly never seen the slightest sign that you are unhappy in your employment, and that half-guilder you gave Master Kabrig would seem to indicate that you are well paid in your present position. That would imply that you are acting in what you believe to be the landgrave's interest. Do you think, then, that Lord Allutar doesn't want me in a dungeon?”

Hollem smiled, which Anrel found curiously unsettling; he had never seen the footman smile before. It would not have been appropriate while he was performing his duties in his master's house, and the meeting downstairs had been a little too awkward for cheerful expressions.

“No one has ever said you're stupid, Master Murau,” he said. “Indeed, I do believe that Lord Allutar would prefer you to stay free. However, it would be unwise of him to
say
so—as Alvos you are, after all, a notorious traitor and seditionist, responsible for a major riot. The Lords Magistrate in Naith circulated the knowledge of your true identity to their allies and confederates a day or so after your departure, but kept
that information from the general population lest you gain further sympathy from the public at large. They very much want to see you hanged, or perhaps burned at the stake, for your actions.”

Anrel grimaced. “And why do you believe that your employer does not share this desire?”

“Because I believe he would prefer to keep his future wife happy. Killing her favorite cousin would not contribute to his domestic tranquility.”

Anrel stroked his beard thoughtfully. “His future wife?”

“Were you unaware of his intentions?”

“I was . . . uncertain,” Anrel said. “As of the most recent news I had heard on the subject, which is none too recent, Lord Allutar and Lady Saria had given every sign of mutual interest, but nothing had yet been formalized. However, I had thought she had in the end refused his attentions.”

“Why would she do that?” Hollem asked.

Anrel snorted. “It occurred to me that she might look askance at the killing of members of her household. While I yet live, her father's fosterling does not, having died horribly by your master's own hand.”

“She appears to have accepted that Lord Valin brought his fate upon himself.”

Anrel very much wished he was surprised by that; alas, he was not. “He is not the only inhabitant of the Adirane home to be threatened by Lord Allutar; as you have just said, I am under sentence of death.”

“A sentence that was Lord Neriam's doing, not Lord Allutar's.”

“Lord Allutar is Lord Neriam's superior.”

“True, but it does not look well to undercut one's underlings in such matters without a very good reason indeed, and being betrothed to the traitor's cousin is not widely seen as a good reason.”

Anrel lowered his hand from his beard. “Then they are indeed betrothed?”

“They are. It is to be a respectably long engagement, to allow for all the personal and financial arrangements and in hopes that the political situation will have resolved itself—and perhaps also to give the principals time to resolve any doubts they may have, since as you have pointed out,
Lord Allutar did kill your uncle's fosterling. The wedding is to be held on the autumnal equinox, if all goes well. In the interests of all going well, Lord Allutar would prefer not to execute or imprison any of Lady Saria's relatives.”

The autumnal equinox—exactly a year after Urunar Kazien's execution. Anrel wondered whether that was deliberate, or mere coincidence. “Killing her father's fosterling was not sufficient to deter her?”

“Lord Valin was not her blood kin, and so far as Lady Saria knows, he died in a fair contest that he had provoked. I think we all know that Lord Valin was capable of reckless and foolish behavior, and that Lady Saria did not hold him in the highest regard. You, on the other hand, are considered a sensible fellow—though your actions in Naith would seem to contradict that widely held opinion—and Lady Saria is quite fond of you. The unexpressed consensus among the nobility of Alzur is that exile is an appropriate and sufficient penalty for your outburst, and death would be excessive.”

Anrel stared at Hollem for a moment, and then said, “Forgive me for asking this, Master tel-Guriel, but why should I believe you? While your actions today would seem to imply that you do indeed believe what you have reported, how can I know that your beliefs are accurate? You are a well-spoken man, most particularly for one of your station, and I know that Lord Allutar trusts you in many things, but why should I believe he has confided in you just what he thinks of me, or how much weight he gives his fiancée's opinions, or even what her opinions
are
?”

“A very reasonable concern, Master Murau.” Hollem grimaced. “You probably find it strange to be speaking to me as an equal—and I assure you, I find it strange myself. I am accustomed to seeing you as my social superior, though not, of course, a true aristocrat, yet here we are, in a situation where if anything,
I
am the superior. It does make it difficult to judge how reliable we are to each other.”