Kate Heasleroad smiled back at him, almost involuntarily; at least Tommie would have her.
Behind her Matti mouthed: You?re being charming again, dammit!
Rudi?s eldest half sister Eilir was deaf; he?d learned lipreading from her, and it was a useful skill whether you could hear or no.
The Coordinator?s quarters were elegant, in a cool style of pastel fabrics and muted colors and blond wood that was not at all the Bossman?s usual taste, judging by what he remembered of the throne room in the State Capitol; the modifications that had turned this whole second floor into one were skillful, arched ways linking large rooms. ?And for his sake as well as your own, you should have more guards about you,? Rudi said. ?There are plenty of guards,? the Bossman said.
He waved a hand and knocked over a glass on the side table beside him. A servant stepped forward noiselessly and swept it away, mopping up the spilled wine and vanishing again.
Rudi had lived several months a year in Portland and Castle Todenangst and other holds of the Protectorate for much of his boyhood and youth; he was used to personal service, if not overfond of it. But while lowly household folk in Portland?s territories were sometimes treated roughly by their lords, they weren?t expected to be invisible. Their presence was part of an Associate?s consequence.
This self-effacement put his teeth on edge for some reason. It was as if they were trying to mimic the vanished machinery of the ancient world, that produced the fruits of work without human hands and will.
Aloud he went on:?To be sure, but the guards are not here within arm?s reach. A dozen yards away can be far too far, if you take my meaning, my lord. I don?t think those men from Corwin are to be trusted.? ?I don?t trust anyone,? the Bossman said, his voice careless and a little slurred.
The which is probably true, and makes you as helpless as a babe. The whole secret of the thing being to know who you can trust, as well as who you cannot. ?And I don?t like having men in iron shirts clanking about in the same room. Besides, this place is secure,? the Iowan went on.
There was something to that. The windows facing out a story over the street were broad, intact pre-Change plate glass panels that ran on grooves set in little wheels, but the wrought-iron scrollwork over them was more recent. It was ornamental, flowing designs of vines and flowers, but it also gave no space wider than a man?s arm, without blocking too much of the light in daytime, and it was set very solidly indeed into steel plates bolted around the openings.
All the windows in this building were like that, except the ones on the ground floor; they?d been bricked in until they were narrow slits, and there was nothing on that level but storage and guardrooms, workshops and kitchens and armories. It wasn?t quite a fortress, but it would do fine against a rioting mob, particularly with people shooting crossbows through the openings at anyone on the ground outside.
The Bossman?s voice was slurred and his plump face was flushed and sweaty, despite the coolness of the damp air that came through the open panels. ?Always guards,? he said, and there was suddenly a wistful note in his voice.?Gotta have?em. Must be nice not to have to, like you guys. Just going where you want, doing what you please.? ?Oh, sometimes I?d have been glad of a few guards,? Rudi said cheerfully.?And there are drawbacks to being footloose and fancy-free, your Majesty. Why, I remember-?
Thock.
The sound was faint, but Rudi recognized it instantly; an arrowhead or crossbow-bolt striking in bone. The breath hissed out between his teeth; that was not part of the plan. The Cutters should have been stopped outside, with Rudi?s friends-and the Heuisinks, Ingolf?s allies-doing the stopping and the State Police swooping down to halt the brawl. Then the Bossman would wash his hands of them and expel both…
Something went wrong, Rudi thought, as his hand went to the hilt of a sword that wasn?t there. But as Sir Nigel says, something always does. Or as Sam Aylward puts it, sodding pear-shaped is the shape to expect. ?Your Majesty, I think you?d better call those guards of yours,? he said quietly, but his voice was pitched to the level of command. ?Call them now.?
Anthony Heasleroad was no fool; Rudi had reluctantly come to that conclusion some time ago.
But if those who had the raising of him had set out to ruin him, they could have done no better. If I was a Christian, I?d attribute it to the sins of the fathers. Or if I were a Buddhist like the good Rimpoche Dorje, I?d conclude he must have been a monster in some previous life.
He watched the warning sink through layers of drink-fuddled incomprehension, and then through a gauze of arrogance deeper still. ?Butler!? the Bossman called.
Then as Rudi began to move:?What the hell are you doing, you red-haired beanpole??
A long scream came from below, where the stairs gave on the main hall. Then a shattering clash of steel on steel, and the sharp hard banging of blades on the leather of shields, and a war cry that made his lips peel back from his teeth: ?Cut! Cut! Cut!?
And another scream: not of pain this time, but of horror, an animal cry of disgust rising into the squeal a rabbit gave when the talons closed on it. Rudi leapt to the door and struck it with his shoulder. There was no time for subtlety now. It crashed open, and revealed a man falling backward with his arms flailing; he met another at the head of the stairs and both tumbled down them.
Rudi?s hand moved with blurring speed, sweeping their swords out of the rack the guardsmen had been standing sentinel over and leaping back in a ten-foot bound from a standing start. By then Odard and Mathilda were by the door themselves, slamming it shut again and shooting home the bar; the baron of Gervais whirled a heavy chair over and jammed the top home beneath the brackets. Anthony Heasleroad was looking at them blank-faced, then with a dawning suspicion.
The bundle of weapons in Rudi?s hands included the Bossman?s shete. It had a good deal of silver and niello filigree on the sheath, and jewels set in the guard, but the blade was steel as good as any Rudi had ever seen. He tossed the weapon at the Iowan ruler, still in the scabbard. The heavyset young man gripped it clumsily, staggered back into his chair and rose again, drawing the weapon with a flick of the wrist that showed some skill.
Though I?d swear he lacks the endurance to use it for more than one or two strokes. But at least it?ll convince him faster than words that we?re not out to kill him. ?What?s the meaning of this?? he said as Rudi followed the throw by handing the two Portlanders their blades, then raised his voice: ?Guards! Guards!?
The sound of fighting had died away, far faster than it should have; the sudden coppery smell of blood was shockingly strong. The prickling along Rudi?s spine intensified, and his scalp crept, as if his hair was trying to bristle as did a lion?s mane before battle. Everything looked normal, but he could feel gaps about him, as if bits and pieces of the world were vanishing from the edge of sight, only to reappear when his eyes moved in that direction.
I?ve felt something a little like this, he thought. On Samhain, and in some of the rites.
Not often, and never so strongly. He was no great loremaster, for all that the Otherworld had touched his life often. He knew little more than any Initiate.
But this feels wrong, so it does. Someone is using Art, but without any thought for the order of the world, or the Law of Threefold Return. That will fall upon him in the end, but before then what evil may it do! ?The guards-? he began.
A crash came from the door. That barrier wasn?t the massive fortress-style portals that closed the exterior of the building. Carved panels splintered under the blows of heavy blades-at this moment you remembered that the shete had started out as a chopping tool a mere generation before. The steel flicked through in glimpses of brightness against dark oiled ornamental walnut. When the upper panel was a sagging mass of splinters a man?s helmeted head completed the ruin, butting through the remains.