Brokedown Palace (10 page)
Authors: Steven Brust
László reached out a hand and helped the old man to his feet. Sándor made his halting way to a chair that László had knocked over. Andor hastened to set it upright.
“What happened?” asked László.
“I don’t know,” said the wizard. “He would only tell me that the spell hadn’t killed the dragon.” He was silent for a moment, then: “He must have been near water. That’s the only thing that will weaken that spell.”
“Didn’t you warn him about that?”
Sándor sighed. “To what purpose? You fight a dragon where it is, not where you want to.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, in any case. The dragon is dead, Vilmos is alive. All is well.”
“Sándor, you are a fool.”
Sándor glanced up at the King; the expression on his face was unreadable. “That has been said by many kings before you, Your Majesty.”
SÁNDOR STOOD UP AND LEFT, BOWING TO LÁSZLÓ. ANDOR started to follow him out.
“Andor,” said László.
“Yes?”
“Will you do something for me? I’m expecting visitors the day after tomorrow. Will you make sure there are suitable arrangements?”
“What visitors?”
“A certain Count of Mordfal and his daughter, Mariska.”
Andor smiled. “Daughter? Is Rezs
trying to get you married again, brother?”
trying to get you married again, brother?”László shrugged. “Will you see to the arrangements and make sure there is an honor guard for them? I expect them in the forenoon.”
“Certainly,” said Andor. “But what about Brigitta?”
To Andor’s amazement, László actually flushed.
“Shut up,” he said. He stood and walked out of the room.
Andor shook his head in puzzlement and went up to his own chambers to meditate on how best to please his Goddess, before making the arrangements his brother had requested. He found himself trembling with delighted anticipation.
IN HIS DREAMS THAT NIGHT, ANDOR STOOD ON A CLIFF, clothed in garments of white, his hands uplifted. Wind from the sea (which he had never seen, but which he envisioned as like a lake only bigger) ruffled his hair.
He stood at the very edge of the cliff and felt a sudden fear, not of falling, but of jumping. His actions seemed to be predestined, and he could only wait to find out what he would do.
He became aware that a cloud had descended, so that it was directly before him. He had no memory of its arrival, yet there it was. In the dream, this didn’t seem odd. He thought he must be high up indeed for there to be clouds, and for the first time he wondered where he was.
Then the cloud changed (again, he wasn’t aware of the process, merely that a transformation had occurred) and it assumed the features
of a face—a face he knew to be that of the Demon Goddess. In his dream, it didn’t seem strange to him that she looked exactly as he’d pictured her (the artists of the land never really agreed on her features, and to Andor none of them were close). In his dream or out of it, he never noticed how much her face resembled that of his mother—thin, with high arching brows and deep, round eyes beneath a tall forehead.
of a face—a face he knew to be that of the Demon Goddess. In his dream, it didn’t seem strange to him that she looked exactly as he’d pictured her (the artists of the land never really agreed on her features, and to Andor none of them were close). In his dream or out of it, he never noticed how much her face resembled that of his mother—thin, with high arching brows and deep, round eyes beneath a tall forehead.
She spoke to him (though her mouth never moved), saying in a voice that pierced his heart, “Andor, will you serve me?”
He watched himself tremble, seeing himself seeing her, yet seeing through his image’s eyes at the same time. He felt his own awe almost vicariously. “I will serve you,” he heard himself say as he said it.
“Then I will guide and protect you,” she said, “and make your life full and meaningful.”
He bowed his head. “What must I do, Goddess?”
“You must aid and protect László.”
He felt himself feeling puzzled. “Protect him from what, Goddess?”
“From those who would thwart his aims, which are my aims, and from those who would tear down your home, which I have sanctified. And, above all, from himself, when he doesn’t understand that it is sometimes best to throw a lamb to the wolves.”
“I don’t understand, Goddess.”
“Trust your heart, Andor, my child,” she said, and there was only a cloud before him. Then that, too, was gone.
Andor awoke, then, and rolled out of bed. He cast himself full-length onto the rough wooden floor and prayed.
The next morning he became aware that he had picked up another splinter, this one on top of his right foot. Before doing anything else he set off in search of Sándor, limping slightly.
IT WAS STILL EARLY IN THE MORNING WHEN ANDOR DECIDED what he must do to fulfill his promise. Firm with new resolve, he set off in search of Vilmos.
Calling at his brother’s door brought no answer, so he tried the next obvious place and found him at once. Vilmos knelt on the floor in the alcove beneath the stairway to the wine cellars, looking incongruously huge in the tiny space. He was feeding scraps of vegetables to several norska in a small enclosure built there.
Andor watched for a moment, trying to keep the disgust off his face. Even Vilmos’s clothing—dirty wool leggings, boots that bunched around his ankles, a tunic of some indefinable color that was ripped along the side—bespoke one who had no understanding of his role, who took no pride in his station. Finally Andor said, “Don’t you get tired of the smell?”
Vilmos looked up, seeing him for the first time. He grunted “No,” and went back to the feeding.
Andor braced himself and said, “We need to talk.”
Vilmos grunted again, this time not even looking up.
“We need to talk
now
, Vilmos.”
now
, Vilmos.”
The giant administered another scrap of something green and leafy, then sat back on his heels.
“Well? What is it then?”
“It’s about your attitude toward our brother and our Goddess.”
Vilmos cocked his head to the side. “You say them as if they were the same.”
Andor paused, startled, then began again. “No, but it’s all part of the same problem. I am older than you, Vilmos. My memory stretches back further than yours. I remember when László first took the throne from our father.”
Vilmos nodded solemnly and waited for the other to continue. Andor blinked. “I think you should consider your duties. Yesterday
you were near to killing—” he choked, then continued, “—actually
killing
Sándor, who is vital to the kingdom.”
you were near to killing—” he choked, then continued, “—actually
killing
Sándor, who is vital to the kingdom.”
Vilmos snorted. Andor raised his voice and said, “Yes, vital. How could you do that? As I think about it, Vilmos, I see that your attitude toward the Goddess is perfunctory. Yes, you perform the rituals every seven days, but is your heart in them? If you could but see what I see, you would understand that the Goddess is the one who protects the kingdom, and our prayers and sacrifices to her are part of how we all contribute to the well-being of each other. Yet you seem interested only in … those animals of yours, as if they were more important to you than your duty to the kingdom. Do you understand what I’m saying, Vilmos?”
Vilmos looked at him and blinked twice. Then he went back to feeding the norska. Andor felt himself suddenly filled with anger.
“Must you learn it only to your sorrow?” he cried. “To all our sorrow? You have benefited by living here, by your position as Prince of Fenario. Can you only take without giving?”
Vilmos stood up and faced his smaller brother. For a moment, Andor had the sudden fear that he’d pushed his brother to violence, but Vilmos didn’t approach him. Instead, he ripped open his shirt, showing Andor three pink (already nearly healed) scars that went from high on the right side of his chest across his belly almost to his left hip. He gave Andor a look of contempt and returned to feeding the norska, making small clucking sounds.
Andor gritted his teeth, trembling with rage. He said, “Bah!” and half walked, half ran back up to the main floor of the Palace.
DINNER THAT EVENING WAS MUCH AS USUAL, EXCEPT FOR the underlying tension between Andor and Vilmos. It occurred to Andor that László probably wouldn’t notice it, absorbed as he was with the problems of the kingdom, especially since, he suddenly realized,
there was a great deal less conversation among the three of them than there had been a year or two ago. During the silence of much of the meal Andor pondered this, and decided that it was probably due to their falling away from the Goddess. If so, he realized, it was up to him to remedy the situation.
there was a great deal less conversation among the three of them than there had been a year or two ago. During the silence of much of the meal Andor pondered this, and decided that it was probably due to their falling away from the Goddess. If so, he realized, it was up to him to remedy the situation.
He cleared his throat and said, “I understand, László, that there have been problems with the Northmen.”
László appeared startled at the sudden break in the silence, but collected himself and said, “There have been, yes, but we seem to be dealing with them adequately.” He turned his attention back to—what was it? Some kind of bird covered with a reddish sauce. Cherry.
“How is that, László?”
“Hm?” The King appeared faintly annoyed, as if he had been thinking about something. But after swallowing he said, “Marshal Henrik is attending to it.” He took another sip of wine and attacked his food again.
“What is he doing, then?”
László put his knife down, wiped his lips with the white linen napkin, and replaced it on his lap. He leaned forward and said, “He is defeating the enemy.”
Andor realized that this was not accomplishing what he wished to accomplish, so he smiled and nodded, somewhat embarrassed, and turned his attention back to his own food. Vilmos, across from him, had never stopped eating.
The rest of the meal proceeded in strained silence, broken only by eating sounds and the unobtrusive coming and going of servants. Andor occasionally followed one of them with his eyes. What was her name? Juliska. There was something pleasing about her: quiet, small, slim, and with a perpetually frightened and vulnerable look about her. But, he reminded himself, she was below his station, and it would be unfair. László, whatever his own faults,
never used his position to force his attentions on an unwilling wench. Andor resolved to be guided by this.
never used his position to force his attentions on an unwilling wench. Andor resolved to be guided by this.
That he had made similar resolves in the past and failed to keep them troubled him not at all. He was renewed now, he had found his life’s path, and everything was going to be different. It made life easier to remain firm in his resolve that Juliska seemed, without giving any overt sign, to be aware of his attention, and that it made her nervous. Her hand almost trembled as she set down the glasses for the after-dinner wine. Andor found this embarrassing rather than stimulating.
As we have said, nothing of significance happened for the remainder of the meal.
Before we leave it, however, let us take a moment to shift our perspective. It was mentioned earlier that László, as King, sat in a position between his two brothers. But after his encounter earlier that day, Andor had unconsciously edged his place closer to László’s right hand, so he was no longer directly across from Vilmos.
Looked at from above, this would actually make it seem that Andor, not László, took the middle position of the three. It may be true that this had been the case all along, but only the now-apparent tension made it obvious.
It was not really obvious, however, for the simple reason that there was no one hanging from the ceiling to view things from the one perspective that would make it so.
Perhaps, if Miklós had been there, that is where he would have been.
IT WAS ALMOST NOON OF THE NEXT DAY THAT THE CARRIAGE, drawn by the obligatory four white horses, pulled into the courtyard. They were accompanied by six retainers, all riding
repül
horses, though the ones drawing the carriage were of the sturdier
munkás
breed.
repül
horses, though the ones drawing the carriage were of the sturdiermunkás
breed.
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