Brokedown Palace (14 page)
Authors: Steven Brust
Eventually gown and footfalls were revealed as belonging to the Countess of Mordfal. At the bottom, she turned and looked around, until she spotted Vilmos. He bowed to her. She curtsied.
“I would like to see your norska,” she said.
“Oh,” he said after a brief pause. He felt strangely reluctant, but motioned her over. He held a lantern under the nook. She came over and knelt down. He stepped in next to her.
“This,” he said, “is Atya. This is Anya. These are their children; Bátya is the oldest, then Húga and Csecsem
.” He stopped, feeling as if he should say more but not knowing what else to say. How could he speak of them to someone who didn’t understand norska, and didn’t know him?
.” He stopped, feeling as if he should say more but not knowing what else to say. How could he speak of them to someone who didn’t understand norska, and didn’t know him?“May I hold one?” she said.
“All right.” He opened the cage, hesitated, then took hold of Húga by the base of the ears, quickly putting his other hand under her hindquarters, shifting the first hand to support her head.
“This is how you hold her,” he said. “Go on. She’s the gentlest of them. She won’t try to nip you.” This wasn’t quite true. Csecsem
was gentler, but more delicate.
was gentler, but more delicate.He waited until she, apparently with some hesitation, set her fan on the floor next to her. Then he transferred the norska to her arms, carefully positioning her. He felt Húga tense to jump, but the Countess evidently didn’t. He kept one hand on top of Húga’s hindquarters and stroked her with the other. His fingers brushed the top of the Countess’s breast over her low-cut gown and she looked up sharply, but he noticed neither the contact nor the look. After a moment, Húga relaxed into her arms and Vilmos removed his hands.
“She’s so soft,” said the Countess, almost whispering.
Vilmos nodded, not knowing what to say. Soft? Well, certainly she was. All norska were soft. What could this Countess from the East Grimwall Mountains know of the special way Húga would
lick Csecsem
’s fur, or bound toward her protectively when a stranger (that is, anyone but Vilmos) came near? She couldn’t. All she could know was that she was soft.
lick Csecsem
’s fur, or bound toward her protectively when a stranger (that is, anyone but Vilmos) came near? She couldn’t. All she could know was that she was soft.Suddenly desperate to change the conversation, Vilmos said, “Countess, are you going to marry my brother?”
She looked at him with an expression of curiosity. “Call me Mariska,” she said.
He grunted. “You don’t want to answer?”
“I just did.”
He grunted again and thought about it. “That means you are, then?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“We haven’t decided yet. A year perhaps.”
“Well. Good. Rezs
will be pleased.”
will be pleased.”“The old advisor? Yes, I imagine so.” Then, “Your brother is a strange man, Vilmos.”
“How, strange?”
“I don’t know. Strange.”
Lászlo? Strange? Well, maybe. He had never thought of it before. Marriage was strange. He somehow couldn’t conceive of it, despite all of the time he had spent with Anya and Atya. “Do you love him?” he asked.
She inhaled sharply and glanced quickly, almost involuntarily, at the fan at her feet. Then she said, “No. But I can happily be his Queen.”
“Why is that?”
“I’m not sure. We have similar interests. He’s very dedicated.”
“Yes. He is.”
“There is something … we should be together, somehow. I can’t explain it. Perhaps Brigitta would understand.”
Once again Vilmos was startled. “You know about Brigitta?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve met. The King explained why she is here.”
“Oh.”
She sighed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you of this.” She went back to stroking the black and white fur of the norska. “The norska is very proud,” she said after a moment.
Vilmos felt his eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. But … what was her name? Húga? Húga has a great deal of pride. She’s haughty. That’s why she’s so gentle; she isn’t afraid of anyone.” Mariska handed her back.
Vilmos nodded, too surprised to speak. How could she have known that?
As he did, Mariska said, “Thank you, Vilmos. I’ve wanted to see them for some time.”
“You are welcome, Mariska,” he replied, surprised to find that he meant it.
She nodded. She picked up her fan again, looked at it and clutched it tightly. Then she put her other hand into the pail of feed, sniffed it, and nodded.
“That is all they will eat, when they are kept this way,” said Vilmos, who somehow felt the need to justify the feed, as if she would think it too poor for such fine beasts.
She nodded. “What do they eat in the wild?”
“Mostly dragons,” said Vilmos.
THAT EVENING IN THE GREAT HALL, VILMOS LISTENED TO A minstrel from somewhere near the southern marshes. He was a rather chubby man, with long, stringy dark hair shot through with gray and a beard that matched. He sang songs from his home in a soft quiet voice that Vilmos had to strain to hear, while accompanying himself on a long-necked
lant
. Halfway through the third song, Andor approached Vilmos.
lant
. Halfway through the third song, Andor approached Vilmos.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Shhh,” said Vilmos. “I am listening.”
“That can wait.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been thinking about your failure yesterday.”
“Failure?”
“With Miklós.”
“Oh.”
“We should talk about it.”
Vilmos turned in his chair and looked fully at Andor. Then he turned back. “Shhh,” he said again. “I am listening.”
Andor stood next to him for a moment, then left the Hall.
Vilmos listened to the minstrel for a while longer, until the King and the Count and Countess of Mordfal bid the room good night, threw the minstrel a purse, and departed for the evening. In a little while Vilmos found himself alone in the Hall, sitting on a great chair that had been constructed for his frame and piled high with cushions. Eventually, he drifted off into a pleasant doze.
Some time later he heard soft footfalls behind him but didn’t turn to see who it was. When they stopped in front of his chair, he opened his eyes.
“Hello, Brigitta.”
“Good evening, Vilmos. May I sit with you?”
“Yes.”
She pulled a chair over next to his. He studied her, comparing her to the Countess. Brigitta was solid where Mariska was almost frail. But after speaking with Mariska he realized—in a way that he couldn’t express even to himself—that there was a core of strength inside of the Countess. Now, looking at Brigitta, he wondered if, within her, there was a corresponding weakness.
“You like this room, don’t you?” she said, suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.
“Hm? Oh. Yes, I do.”
“It’s peaceful, after everyone has left.”
Vilmos nodded.
“When I was very little, and my father was too drunk to make liquor, I used to collect mushrooms. I’d go out walking until I was in what you call the Wandering Forest. To us, it was ‘the woods’—as if it were our own, private part of the Forest. We’d go out and collect the mushrooms there, and sometimes sit until sunset. It was like this room: big, peaceful, and empty. You would have liked it.”
Vilmos nodded again.
“Most of the trees were old in that part. There were a lot of elms, especially, that were actually rotting and falling apart. Some of the biggest and best mushrooms grew around trees like that, as if somehow the rot of the tree was helping them grow.
“But from time to time, a big, old tree would just collapse. We’d see it coming, over the years, because branches would fall off first, and of course there’d be no leaves on them. I noticed that sometimes the tree would fall over on top of the mushrooms and crush them. Then, again, sometimes the tree would rot almost completely away without ever really falling, and the mushrooms would be as big as my father’s hand. That’s where I got the idea that they were feeding off the tree. Of course, I was little then.”
Vilmos studied her, not understanding but not saying anything. After a moment she sighed.
“I like this room,” she said. Then she nodded, “I wonder where Miklós is?”
Vilmos didn’t answer, and Brigitta didn’t speak again. She left a little later to be replaced in short order by László. Vilmos had the sudden feeling that he was at the center of the world; that everyone,
even the King, came for his own reason, to convince him of something or to ask for something. He knew, at the same time, that it wasn’t so. The Great Hall was the center of the Palace; if one waited long enough, everyone would arrive.
even the King, came for his own reason, to convince him of something or to ask for something. He knew, at the same time, that it wasn’t so. The Great Hall was the center of the Palace; if one waited long enough, everyone would arrive.
Yet the illusion persisted.
László made a brief greeting, seated himself next to Vilmos, and said, “You have heard that I am to be married?”
“Yes. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
The King stretched his feet out in front of him and stared at his toes. “There will be some changes in how the Palace is run, of course.”
Vilmos stirred. “What sort of changes?”
“I don’t know. But having a Queen in residence again will certainly have some effect.”
“Will we be getting things in shape for her?”
László glanced up sharply. “What do you mean?”
Vilmos indicated the room around them. “You know. The woodwork, the flooring, the plastering—”
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