The Cutting Edge (29 page)

Shandie had been touching his toes and flexing his arms. He hated sitting still and he was having to do a lot of that now. Suddenly he asked, "Marshal? Do you ever hear from Warlock Olybino?"

The old soldier started and instinctively glanced toward the bed and the unmoving figure within it. He found no guidance there. "No, Highness. Not for months."

"Since Nefer Moor?"

"Nothing!" Ithy shook his head somberly. "Has his Majesty? "

"Not a word from any of them. " Shandie's dark eyes flashed to Umpily, who shrugged, helpless. '

Usually Hub ran a rumor or two about the wardens' doingsa miracle cure here, or a seduction there. Once in a while one of the Four would turn up at a ball or meddle in a political affair. They were secretive, but they were present, like shadows on a wall. Now they just seemed to have vanished, and even Umpily could offer Shandie nothing.

Acopulo thought it was a bad sign. He said it meant they were badly divided and didn't trust one another.

Shandie seemed to have become lost in thought, until Umpily realized he was gazing at some sort of plaque hanging on the far wall. Then, with a sense of shock, he recognized what the prince was studying: a shield and sword. He had not known that this was where they were kept! They were battered and ugly. In better times, before this sleeping chamber had become a secretariat, those two bronze antiquities must have seemed a strangely discordant element amid the luxury and elegance. Yet they were the most sacred relics of the Impire, for they had belonged to the great Emine II.

Their purpose was to summon the wardens. Was Shandie tempted to try? Had he not yet scraped up the courage, or had he already tried and been refused? Would the Four condescend to appear for him, when he wasn't imperor yet? Reluctantly Umpily decided his memoirs would not contain the answers to those questions.

He poured himself another cup of coffee, thinking morosely of trilling elves and the dwarf he had seen in the pool ... "Where's that signifer scallywag of yours?" the marshal inquired, breaking the quiet. "Thought he ran all this for you? " Now that was an impudent question, although the rough old soldier would not mean it to be. Apart from the matter of a regency, the imperor was reasonably lucid-unless Ylo was mentioned. Then he raved. To bring Ylo into the room drove the old man into screaming hysterics. Obviously that flagging, clouded mind was still capable of admitting guilt. In a way, that was comforting. It would be one of the major revelations in Umpily's posthumous memoirs and would likely lead to a reevaluation of the Yllipo Conspiracy and Emshandar's handling of it.

"Ylo's taking a day off," Shandie said. "He hasn't had a break since we got back, so the Powers know he's earned it. He's gone riding. "

Umpily choked. The prince glared at him and that only made him worse.

What the signifer had said was that he wanted to try out a young filly he had his eye on.

Shandie didn't find the matter amusing. His eyes seemed to turn darker, his voice sharpened. "He's a keen horseman, my Lord. He already has two mares in the stable at Oak House. He's got a good eye for horseflesh."

"Oh, quite, sir! I don't deny it. " Umpily could feel his face going red now, or perhaps purple. Sourpuss Sir Acopulo was pouting blackly.

Old white-eyebrowed Ithy frowned, knowing he had lost the drift of the conversation.

"Seems a very personable fellow. Remarkable career. The legion voted him a day's pay. That doesn't happen often! " He paused, scowling at Umpily. "Didn't know he was a horseman, too. Good-looking chap. Popular with the ladies, is he?"

Umpily found just enough breath to say, "He's the most eligible stal ... I mean bachelor in the-" and then Acopulo's pompous disapproval made him explode in a fit of giggles, like a silly kid.

The prince smiled thinly. "Ylo has a reputation as a ladies' man, Marshal. The old roue's jealous."

"Don't blame him!" Ithy said. "So am I."

Shandie swung around to Umpily. "Seriously, my Lord, is Ylo getting that sort of a reputation around town? "

Umpily pulled himself together, avoiding Acopulo's eye. "He already has ... already has gotten ... that sort of reputation, sir. I know of several mothers who have forbidden their daughters to go near him. Of course that gives him a wonderful air of mystery. "

Acopulo sniffed meanly. "You've been keeping count?" The chief of protocol threw up his plump hands in horror. "That would be a full-time job all by itself !"

The little man laughed and Ithy chortled.

Of course Umpily was keeping count! So far he knew of four, and two probables. Not at all bad for six weeks' work! Imperially unamused, Shandie bent to fill another coffee cup, then took it over to the bed to see if he could rouse his grandfather and get a little more work out of him.

Shandie himself might even be a little jealous of Ylo. The signifer could at least take most evenings off, whereas Shandie had had almost no private time to spend with his wife and daughter since his return. Umpily's sources among the Oak House domestics reported that the child still refused to recognize her father. They whispered that Princess Eshiala hated formal affairs so much that she was likely to be physically ill before a major function. They even hinted that she had not been nearly so pleased to see her husband as she had pretended. How odd that a superb motivator of men, which Shandie undoubtedly was, should be so totally blind to women!

This would be a difficult period of adjustment for her, of course. But soon things would be settled ...

Hopefully.

Soon Shandie should sit on the Opal Throne and the Eshiala girl would be impress.

Hopefully.

Umpily had never been a superstitious man, but now he was almost convinced of the dread prophecies associated with the end of the millennium. What had changed his mind, what nobody but he knew about, was the image he had seen in the preflecting pool. That was a nightmare that had haunted him for six weeks now. They wouldn't believe him if he told them. It was incomprehensible-a dwarf sitting on the Opal Throne? He tried not to think about it.

Farther north, but still within the confines of the palace compound, Princess Eshiala was being entertained by her daughter in the gardens of Oak House. Maya was almost two now and trying to be a problem, although she rarely succeeded for long. Black-eyed and black-haired like her parents, she trotted tirelessly around, clutching a soldier.doll not much smaller than herself. When she abandoned it, her mother would pick it up. Then she would demand it back again.

The doll was named Leegie. At times Maya would call her father Leegie, when he was in uniform. Maya had not yet accepted the view that fathers were necessary or even desirable, which was hardly surprising, considering how little time Shandie was able to find for his family.

That was a deprivation Eshiala did not mind very much. They were almost never alone, so their relationship remained purely formal. Indeed, when they did find themselves alone together, they were usually at a loss for something to talk about-he disliked discussing business during leisure hours, naturally. Every second or third night he would come to her bedroom, but they did not talk then. When he had done what he needed, he would usually return to his own room to sleep. She submitted without complaint because it was her duty, but she still could not believe that any woman could actually enjoy it. She was not even certain that Shandie did. They did not discuss it.

As a child, she had dreamed of living in a cottage a little grander than her parents', on the outskirts of a small town like Thumble. She had assumed she would eventually have a husband who left at dawn and returned at dusk. In the evenings they would sit and talk of family, or entertain friends; but no one had friends at court and the entertainment was all formal, balls and dinners. Back in Thumble, she would have had children and a servant, perhaps a horse and chaise if she had been fortunate in her marriage. She would have loved her husband dearly and been loved in return.

Why, why, why had she settled for all this instead?

To make her father a marquis and her sister a duchess?

No. Because the prince imperial had wanted her, and her duty had been to serve. As she did, and would, loyally.

She hated Oak House and its hundreds of servants. She was totally unable to run such an establishment, although nobody cared about that but her. Soon she would be official mistress of the Opal Palace itself, and nobody could run that-it had its own government department and an annual budget that would support three legions. So Prince Emthoro had told her.

Playing in the gardens with Maya was the nearest to bliss she ever came. The goslings had no desire to join her. She could pretend that she was the only woman in the world, that the two of them were the only people. The guards were far away and the gardeners kept out of sight. She knew she was visible to dozens of spying faces behind the dozens of windows, but she could forget about them.

Shandie had been back for six weeks and she thought she was with child again. In a few more days she would know for certain. She prayed that she was, for pregnancy would release her from the looming torture of playing impress at the state funeral and coronation and gala balls. It would also free her from the night thing, too, for a while.

Maya vanished around the end of a hedge into the rose garden; she followed-and stopped. Surprise was quickly followed by annoyance, then panic. There was a man there. He was seated on a bench and had not seen her. He was engrossed in doing something with a large silver bowl.

She moved to snatch up Maya and leave, but Maya had almost reached the intruder before seeing him. She stopped to stare and let Leegie slip to the grass. Eshiala moved forward to recover both.

"Ylo!" Maya said, trotting forward.

So it was, and Maya had done very well to recognize him before her mother did. Eshiala had never seen the signifer out of uniform before. He was wearing a well-tailored riding outfit that might have just come out of the box. If anything, he was even more dashing than usual.

He smiled at Maya with no indication of surprise. "Hello, there, Princess!" Then he turned his smile on Eshiala. "Your servant, ma'am."

He did not rise. That annoyed her. She did hate the eternal formalities of court life, but he was not to know that. It was mere good manners for a man to stand when greeting a lady. She might be a sham princess, but she had been brought up to appreciate genteel behavior.

"Good morning, Signifer."

"Ylo," Maya confirmed. She clutched the edge of the bowl on his lap and stood on tiptoe to see into it. "What doing, Ylo?"

"Making a surprise. You want to help? Here!" And without even asking permission, the soldier lifted the child up to stand on the bench beside him.

Eshiala was nonplussed. She knew the signifer, for he ate at the prince's table and had his own suite of rooms in Oak House. They saw each other almost every day. He was cool and formal and never addressed her unless she spoke to him first, which was just about never. He was much too good-looking. Shandie had warned her that he was a libertine and asked her to drop a warning to her maids of honor. She had done so with a very embarrassing blush.

"Join us, Gorgeous," he said, smiling.

Not only much too good-looking, he was also extremely impertinent! Before she could frame an adequately crushing reply, he lifted a rose from a pile of roses on the bench beside him and began stripping the petals into the bowl. The bowl was already half full of petals, red, white, yellow, pink.

"What you doing?" Maya demanded again.

"You want to help? Here . . ." Ylo inspected one of the flowers. "No prickles! " He gave the flower to Maya, showing how to pull off a petal and drop it in the bowl. Maya grabbed a fistful of petals and tugged. The signifer gleamed eyes and teeth in another brief smile at Eshiala, then returned to his own rose.

Apparently forgotten, Eshiala stood and ... and dithered. She could certainly snatch up her daughter and leave, but Maya would yell the sky down.

She would not go and sit on the bench. She stayed where she was. "Signifer, what exactly are you doing?"

This time the smile went on longer and was more calculated. "That's a secret just at the moment. You mean you've never seen a man doing this?"

"You're making perfume?" A great pile of stripped stalks lay at his feet. He must have been at work for an hour or more. "No." He shook his head. The sun seemed to dim for his smile. He returned his attention to the bowl and Maya's mangled efforts. "You remind me of Centurion Hardgraa, you know."

Eshiala could imagine no one she less resembled. "In what way? "

"He hates the palace, too."

Her defenses sprang back to their posts at once. "That's absurd!"

"I've watched you," he told the bowl. "Do you know what the domestics call you behind your back? The Ice Impress!"

"What the servants choose to call me is no concern of mine!"

"But servants usually know more of the truth than anyone. They're all spies, of course. The wine steward and the chief coachman report to Umpily. Emthoro's people own a footman and the pastry cook and so on. "

This conversation was insane! Shandie had warned her before they were married that her maids of honor would gossip mercilessly, but she had not worried about the servants. "Why in the world should Lord Umpily spy on the prince?"

"This is the court. Everyone spies on everyone."

She did not believe it. "And how do you know about them? " He shrugged. "Security is Hardgraa's job, of course. I charmed one of the chambermaids for him and then we traded information. Interesting fellow, Hardgraa. Have you ever had a good heart-to-heart with him?"

She shook her head.

"You should! Son of a quarry worker. He joined the army at sixteen, but his tribune decided he had promise, and his tribune ran an illicit gladiator troop. Hardgraa was killing men to amuse rich folk before he was shaving."

She shuddered. She had heard rumors of such affairs and the vast sums gambled on them. She clasped her elbows tightly. "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration," Ylo said, reaching for another flower. "But not much of one. At twenty he blackmailed a legate into ... well, never mind. Hardgraa fought his way up from the swamp. It's easier for him than you." Still the signifer continued to strip petals from the roses. Maya was beating the remains of her own flower to death on the bench. "What's easier?" Eshiala felt she was being entangled in a web of words. Every time she tried to move, he stuck her more firmly with some new puzzle. No one else ever talked to her like this.