The King's Justice (24 page)

All was as I had interminably discerned it. An awkward loop of the intestine
there
, a curious eruption of blood
there
, an apparent necrosis of the liver and bowel
there
and
there
. Such signs may have conveyed naught to one ungifted, but to a hieronomer they were as eloquent as language.

As they had ever done, they spoke to me of barbarism and slavery.

So disappointed was I—so disgusted with my impure lineage and inadequate sight and overcome mind—that moments were lost ere I glanced at the rooster's heart and saw it still beating.

The creature was dead. I had slain it with my own hand. More, I had savaged its corpse. Yet its heart beat on.

As I stared dumb-struck, the heart ceased its labor. No further blood pulsed from its severed channels. Nonetheless I had seen it. I had
seen
it.

Thereafter some considerable time appeared to vanish. When I returned to myself, I understood that I had witnessed another in a sequence of unforeseen alterations. Though I was strangely
reluctant to consider its significance, I found myself convinced that it expressed a further alteration in me.

I
n the days that followed, I grew ravenous for tidings, though none were forthcoming. Of activity the Domicile housed a frenetic abundance. One of the guard captains shouted himself mute striving to train some ten or twelve conscripted servants and villagers while the other lashed men familiar with their duties through an arduous iteration of drills for the defense of the house. The Domicile's gate-facing courtyard and walls were crowded from dawn to dusk with exertion, oaths, and sweat. Yet those who labored within the huge edifice were no less driven, and their tasks did not commence at dawn or cease at dusk. Cooks and scrub-maids prepared tables, vessels, utensils, and ovens to produce a vast array of pastries, roasts, confections, and the like. Wains arrived almost hourly to supply the grains, meats, sugars, ales, and wines required by Her Majesty's feast. Chamber servants hastened to ready accommodations for a considerable surfeit of guests. Menials on their knees polished the stone floors of the feasting-hall and the ballroom to an improbable luster, while others took down every tapestry and rolled every rug to beat them clean of dust, and still others waxed every wooden surface. Altogether I could not venture beyond my laborium without finding myself in the path of rushing servants harried by the Majordomo's tongue.

Nevertheless rumors there were in comparable abundance, all believed, none verified, and most contradictory. None of the barons proposed to attend their sovereign's festivities. All of them would come accompanied by their entire households. Excrucia had been seen in the kitchens, or abroad among the halls. She had been gaoled in a tower where none beheld her other than those who conveyed her meals, tasted every dish, and bore away her trays. My Queen herself was everywhere and nowhere. And at all times there was talk of armies. All or few of the barons had mustered forces. All or few intended contests of strength or blood with each other. Men-at-arms were marching even now to crown their ruler's solstice ball with a display of allegiance—or to lay siege against Her Majesty—or they made haste elsewhere to oppose foes striking at distant coasts. My Queen intended her ball as a welcome for those foes, but also as a reward for the barons who drove Indemnie's enemies from us.

Yet of the actual movements of armies—or indeed of ships—I gleaned naught to appease my hunger. Nor did I learn aught of Excrucia or her mother. Where every possibility was averred, none inspired credence. Seven days remained until the ball, and then five, and still I had neither outlet nor relief for my anticipations and dreads.

On the fourth day, however, a knock sounded on the iron of my door. When I opened it, heart leaping, I found myself staring at Slew with his arms laden.

To my sight, he had the look of a headsman. The manner in
which he discarded his burdens at my feet resembled the fall of an axe.

While I gaped in open befuddlement, he essayed my chamber, the tables devoid of victims, the stains of old blood in the wood. No doubt he noted the blade driven into a plank of one table. I had not thought to remove it.

Seeing that his arrival had deprived me of language, he indicated his bundles with a slight twist of one hand—the same hand with which he had caused a dirk to appear at Opalt Intrix's throat. In a tone of veiled amusement or scorn, he pronounced, “Livery.”

I managed a croak. “Livery?”

“You will attend,” he informed me, “among the household guard.”

Peering at his burdens, I saw now that they were the attire and weapons of a guard. A halberd and dirk lay atop a rough-spun hooded cloak as black as my own garments. Boots with iron studs in their soles were there, coarse pantaloons of the same dark fabric as the cloak, a finer surcoat—black also—that may have been silk, an ornamental helm little more than a band for the brow. In addition, I recognized the style of the belt chased with silver. And I gazed agog at the hauberk of boiled leather, a hauberk such as the Domicile's defenders wore, emblazoned in silver with Inimica Phlegathon deVry's coat-of-arms, which was an emblem of a dove with its wings outstretched to both shield and be supported by five pillars representing the barons.

Still gaping, I inquired hoarsely, “Her Majesty wishes me to
stand the walls?” The notion was absurd. I knew nothing of such duties—or of such weapons.

“Her Majesty,” replied Slew, his tone still veiled, “commands your attendance at the ball.”

“The
ball
?” There I met the man's ungiving gaze with my astonishment. “Her Majesty commands me to attend the
ball
?” A notion as ludicrous as defending the house. I was merely her Hieronomer, a servant. I had no place among my Queen's festivities. “Disguised as a
guard
? For what purpose?”

My visitor granted me a small shrug. “Entertainment.”

Enter
tain
ment? I endeavored to bleat the word aloud, but my voice had forsaken me. Did she require me to perform like a harlequin for her guests?

There Slew took pity on me. “
Your
entertainment,” he explained. “And perhaps enlightenment. Your only task will be to mingle and hear. Attired as a guard, you will encounter no interference. Nor will you be accosted with queries or conversation. You need only move about and give heed and bear your weapons”—briefly he bared his teeth in a humorless smile—“as a man who understands their uses.”

His teeth, I observed with some disgust, were as yellow and clotted as a dog's.

Nonetheless I felt an urgent impulse to plead with him. I craved a more forthcoming explanation. However, the sight of his teeth and the memory of his dirk encouraged the recall that he was Inimica Phlegathon deVry's instrument of murder, not her privy counselor. And I had learned that her dealings
commonly resembled whims—fanciful words and deeds calculated to conceal her true purposes. I would gain no further insight from Slew, for in all likelihood he had been accorded none.

With an effort that caused tremors in my knees, I straightened my posture and lifted my chin to gaze more directly at my sovereign's bodyguard. Though my voice lacked true self-mastery, I managed a measure of firmness.

“Accept my thanks, Slew. Inform Her Majesty that I will obey her commands with considerable interest.”

Returning no better answer than a grunt of disdain, the man withdrew, shutting the door at his back.

Well, I thought while I attempted to calm myself. Well. Had I desired further alterations within the conundrum of Indemnie's dooms? Had I been so reckless? Well, then. Here was one that searched me to the core of my private desires. And while I felt confident that I would make a poor showing as a guard, I began to guess at my Queen's motive for this apparent whim. Somehow—though I could not imagine how—my plain defiance had persuaded her of my loyalty. And I had heard her speak of her underlying purposes. Granted, therefore, the freedom of the ball, I might well come upon some oblique remark or chance reference which would prove more reliable than the host of rumors festering within the Domicile. And if I acquired some noteworthy hint or insight, my Queen could trust that I would disclose it.

If I could but avoid dropping the halberd, or cutting myself
with the dirk loose in its sheath, or wandering in my wits, I might discover some better form of service than hieromancy.

T
h
e gift is the gift
, Opalt Intrix had declared when I had inquired whether an alchemist might attempt hieronomy.
Only purity, talent, and character vary
. From such assertions, I deduced—though my reasoning stood in a quag of uncertainties—that a hieronomer might likewise attempt alchemy.
Alchemists
prefer tangible tasks
— Did they indeed? Then I required only a tangible task when the crisis or opportunity with which my Queen had threatened me presented itself. A tangible task—and the strength of will to hazard its completion.

Hardly knowing what was in my mind, I felt certain only that failure would cost hundreds or thousands of lives. In truth, it might bring about the dooms which I yearned to avert. Still I did what I could to ready myself for a bold and nameless deed that would doubtless exceed my abilities, flawed as they were by imperfect lineage, ignorance, and various defects of character.

However, my ability to fret over possibilities without form or substance was not limitless. For perhaps a day and a half, I gnawed to no good effect on thoughts too vague to be named intentions. Thereafter I endeavored to emulate the practicality of alchemists. Donning my unfamiliar livery—a poor fit, but I did not trouble to amend it—I secreted both my commandeered pouch of
chrism
and my best blade under my hauberk, then
practiced withdrawing both as swiftly as I could manage. The trick, as I discovered at once, was to do so without either spilling the powder or cutting myself. At first, I was clumsy beyond sufferance or use, having no gift of grace or fluid movement. With repetition, however, I became marginally more adept. And when I could endure no more, I rested for a time, ate a meal provided by one of the Domicile's serving-maids, drank a substantial quantity of wine, replaced the emptied tray outside my door, and resumed my efforts to acquire dexterity.

The day before the ball dawned to gusting winds and mountainous thunderheads. In the distant east, a storm gathered, baleful and rife with omens. Yet it did not strike the isle. While the winds persisted, the clouds themselves drifted apart as though they had lost interest. Toward evening, they renewed their resolve, again seething toward us with condensed malevolence. Then, however, they frayed away once more, seemingly dispersed by the relentless—if somewhat unsteady—winds.

Heartened by such imprecise auguries, I left my chambers clad as myself and accosted the first serving-maid whose path intersected mine. Assuming an imperious air that little resembled my customary demeanor, I instructed her to inform Vail that I wished speech with him. To ease her over-stretched nerves, I added that my desires could be relayed by any of Her Highness' guards, should Vail himself be unavailable. Then I sent her on her way.

Thereafter I spent a portion of the evening sampling the Domicile's disquietude, hoping to find it as changeable as the
weather. In that, however, I was disappointed. A dread more explicit than the forecasts implied by winds and weather crowded my Queen's habitation. When I judged that I had allowed time enough for my wishes to reach Vail's ear, I returned to my laborium.

Some hours later, my useless impatience was rewarded with a knock at my door. Hastening to admit Vail, I found the same serving-maid there, trembling as though she feared for her life. “Your pardon, Hieronomer,” she blurted in a scramble of alarm. “Vail replies that it is impossible. Her Majesty requires him.”

While I scowled my dismay—which no doubt resembled wrath in the girl's sight—she fled. Thus I was left with naught but my own thoughts to ready me for the morrow.