23."DULL COMPANY THIS MORNING," PRINCE JOSQUIN murmured to Otto, pa.s.sing him the mulled wine. The Marshal allowed no servants in the briefings.

"Send for a clown, Your Highness," suggested Otto.

"Alas, the Marshal's agenda has no item for tumblers and jesters." The Prince Heir smiled and sipped. "But where's Prince Go lias?"

Otto's wine was too hot. He set it down. "He said he'd be a few minutes behind, said he had something-"

Prince Herne came in, followed by Prince Gaston. Outside the sounds of the camp's disa.s.sembly were coming in through the wind-shuddering canvas. It was still snowing.

Actually, thought Ottaviano, maybe it was just the aftermath of the battle. Maybe the wounded and dead were dragging the spirit of the camp down. The dead had been buried in the day Otto was gone, in a long ditch which Dewar had blasted in the earth to halt Prospero's advance; there was insufficient fuel for so many pyres, so only one token purifying, transubstantiating fire had been lit. The 262.

'Elizabeth 'Wittey crowd of dead men would have to make do with that. Thrifty Gaston.

"Where's Golias?" Prince Gaston asked him.

"He said he'd be a little late. I had breakfast with him," Otto said.

Prince Herne sat down heavily, dropped his leather pouch of papers and maps before him, and folded his arms. The Prince Marshal poured himself wine and sat at the head of the table, taking out his own notes.

Golias lifted the tent flap and entered, a blur of snow-flakes accompanying him, and took his seat on Otto's side of the table. Dewar would have been between them, across from Josquin; that place was empty now.

They sat a few seconds in silence, glancing at one another, and then Prince Gaston nodded.

"Several items," he said laconically. "Hem, Baron Ot-taviano, plain to see, hath returned, and took no prisoners in his hunt of Prince Prospero and Lord Dewar.'1 "How far did you get?" Prince Herne asked him.

"I lost them at Fiargate, sir," lied Ottaviano, wondering at their easy acceptance of his newly-revealed ability. He suspected that gossip had been busy in Otto's absence.

"Ah," said Prince Josquin. "I know it. Complicated junction."

"Yes, sir. I don't know where they went then, but they did go through there. But from there, there are a lot of places they could go."

"We'll not pursue it, or them, further," the Marshal said.

Herne glowered at Gaston. "You should have let me kill him."

"Herne."

A taut silence. Josquin studied his immaculate finger-ends. Golias watched Herne and Gaston eyeing one another until Herne looked down.

"Item, the dead were fired and interred 'fore sundown yesterday. Let the crews be praised and rewarded," Prince Gaston said. "Hem. Have you met delays in breaking camp?"

"None. My men are nearly finished," Herne said.

Sorcerer and a gentleman 263.

"The Madanese cannot wait to leave." Prince Josquin grinned. "I believe we're setting a record for camp-striking speed."

"My company's ready," Golias said.

"We haven't got much to break down, sir, and it's going smoothly," Otto said. Much of his and Herne's encampment had been destroyed by Prospero's forces in the last battle; they'd doubled-up since with Golias's and Josquin's men.

"Good," the Marshal said. "All must be ready to go at noon." He glanced around the table; they all nodded. "Item, the prisoners. His Majesty hath desired they be conveyed under strong guard to Perendlac, overland. Prince Herne, take thou the Sixth, and under thee shall go Baron Ottaviano with his men, to escort them and guard them once there. That shall be but a holding-place; we've no means to repatriate 'em, and 'twere unwise to allow them to remain long together."

Execution, thought Otto. Would Emperor Avril order the death of, what was it, six thousand? Sure. They were Prospero's. As long as they were alive, they'd be dangerous. The sorcerously-bound allies had disappeared when Prospero acknowledged his defeat in Prince Gaston's tent, taking the vanquished's oath. The Pheyarcet men Prospero had recruited would be returned to their native lands, their rulers penalized.

"Prince Herne, do thou further question his second and discover what thou mayst about their origin," Gaston said, "and how they came hither."

Herne nodded, smiling slightly.

The door-flap stirred. Gaston frowned and turned, standing as he did; it was one of the squires.

"Captain Gallitan is here, sir, and he begs audience at once, sir, 'tis most urgent."

"Let him come."

The flap went up and down; out went the squire, in came Captain Gallitan, agitated, his eyes black sparks under his s.h.a.ggy brows.

264.

'Etiza&etfi "Sir, your pardon, sir," he said, and saluted the Prince Marshal.

"What is it?" Prince Gaston asked.

Gallitan's gaze slipped to one side to meet Otto's for a fraction of a second and then back to Prince Gaston's. "An incident, sir."

The Marshal frowned.

"A prisoner, sir, attempted to escape and has been killed," Gallitan said slowly.

Prince Gaston nodded, waiting.

"Prisoner is a woman, sir," Gallitan went on, stiffening up and glancing at-no, Otto realized, at Golias, not at Otto. "The woman was being held by Prince Golias's men, sir," Gallitan went on. "She is not of Prince Prospero's force." He inhaled again.

Prince Gaston nodded, a single down-up, and Ottaviano swallowed a little wine.

"I recognize her, sir," Captain Gallitan went on. "Lady Miranda of Valgalant."

"Indeed?" said Prince Gaston, his brows drawing together.

"The treasonous c.o.c.katrice!" Prince Herne shouted, leaping to his feet.

"Thy prisoner?" Prince Gaston rounded on Golias.

Captain Gallitan stood rigid, staring straight ahead.

"My men picked her up," Golias said calmly, "in a sweep for prisoners, deserters, and so on. They brought her in and I questioned her-"

"Thou didst not report this to me," the Marshal said. "Hast questioned her?"

"Of course. She could not give account of herself, no explanation of why she was riding away from here as fast as Lord Dewar's horse could carry her. I recognized the horse as the one he'd used during the battle, when he was swinging a sword instead of using his sorcery for us. She admitted this morning that she was here to warn Prospero of certain movements of Prince Josquin; apparently she got here too late for it to do him any good, and so she was sneaking homeward when we caught her."

Sorcerer and a Qentteman 265.

"Killed," the Marshal said, to Gallitan.

"Dead, sir," Gallitan said. "1 have the men who appear to be involved under guard, sir."

"My men-" began Golias, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Didst not inform me of this," the Marshal said, in that very quiet voice, cutting him off. "Thou knewest who she was."

"I was going to bring it up," Golias said. "You're holding my men prisoner?"

Prince Josquin was staring at him, his brows drawn together slightly. He turned his gaze on Ottaviano, coldly a.s.sessing him.

"Lady Miranda? You did not see fit to inform the Marshal that you found Lady Miranda here?" Prince Herne demanded.

"Captain Gallitan," said the Marshal, "what pa.s.sed?"

"It's still not clear, sir," Gallitan said. "I gather that the woman, with hands bound behind her, managed to escape the tent where she was held and started away, but was intercepted. The men claim there was a scuffle. She died of a stabbing."

"Hold the men apart from one another, and let the body be treated with all due honor," Prince Gaston said. "Dismissed."

Gallitan saluted and left as quickly as he'd entered.

Prince Gaston turned and fixed Golias with a brilliant stare, downward from his height to seated Golias, a burning glare. "Art aware," the Fireduke said slowly, "of what furor this shall incite?"

"She was a spy," Goiias said.

"She was Gonzalo of Valgalant's daughter," Prince Gas-ton said. "Regardless of her ident.i.ty, thou didst not inform me thou hadst privily such a prisoner."

The snow hissed on the sides of the tent.

"I meant to tell you at this meeting," Golias said sullenly.

Prince Gaston looked from him to Ottaviano, but said nothing. He sat again, and Prince Herne slowly sat down beside him.

"All prisoners henceforward shall be under Prince 266.

'Elizabeth Herne's authority," said the Marshal. "To return to our agenda," he said, "Prince Herne shall take the Sixth and Seventh to guard the convoy of prisoners to Perendlac. Prince Golias, shall accompany them with thy men." He glanced at his notes for the first time. "Item, the locals are being paid and dismissed. Any difficulties?"

"None reported, sir," Prince Josquin said. He had brought the Emperor's gold and silver and the paymasters with him.

The meeting went on. Ottaviano, Josquin, Herne, and Golias reported on their total count of casualties; they discussed, in subdued voices, supplies and transportation of the wounded in a special convoy, and at the end, Prince Gaston said, "The death of Lady Miranda hath placed a particular burthen on me. I shall carry her body to Landuc myself, through a Way, today. Ere I go I'll obtain a full account of the matter for the Emperor."

"Don't be a fool," Golias said. "She was here as a spy, committing treason. Let her vanish-"

"Dost know," Prince Gaston said, "who Lady Miranda of Valgalant is? Was?"

Golias blinked.

"Nay, thy ignorance is clear," said the Fireduke coldly. "I'll speak with thee anon."

"Uh, Your Highness, a word," Ottaviano said, catching his cousin the Prince Heir outside the tent.

Prince Josquin, still with that remote, chill look in his face, looked at him expectantly.

"Who's Miranda of Valagant?"

"Valgalant. Gonzalo of Valgalant's daughter."

"And who's he?"

"A prominent, n.o.ble, but exiled, partisan of Prospero whose daughter and sole child is widely speculated to have entered a private engagement, perhaps even a marriage, with her father's patron against the time when he would rule," said the Prince Heir. "Prince Prospero has the highest regard for her; he was her name-sponsor when she was born. Valgalant still holds much land around Landuc, di- Sorcerer and a QentCeman 267.

rectly and indirectly. Of the n.o.bles who supported Prospero, Gonzalo was the only one whom the Emperor did not execute after the last war."

"Oh."

"Oh," Prince Josquin agreed. "An ancient, ill.u.s.trious family, favored by Panurgus and still of consequence despite diminished numbers and unfashionable politics."

"Do you-did you know her?"

"Oh yes," said the Prince, and he bowed slightly, turned, and walked away.

"Prince Gaston-"

"Baron." The Marshal nodded, preoccupied, sparing but a word for the Baron of Ascolet. His tent had been taken down; he was just finished speaking with Gernan the surgeon. Captain Gallitan, and Prince Herne, all of whom cast cold glances at Ottaviano as they all three left.

"Sir, I have a request."

Gaston waited.

"I, um," Otto looked down. "I haven't been- It seems to me, sir, that my presence isn't needed to lead my troops; my second, Lieutenant Clay, is capable of doing that. I request permission for a leave."

Gaston frowned slightly. "To what purpose?"

"I'd like to see my wife, sir," Otto said.

"Thy wife, the Countess of Lys," Gaston said. "The journey would take some time, Baron. More time than I prefer to have thee absent. I must deny thy request, but I shall endeavor to grant it when 'tis possible to have leaves of absence. Prince Prospero is at large; the war is by no means over, simply in hiatus."

"Sir, we-it's been very hard on her, I can tell from her letters-"

Gaston lifted his eyebrows. "The request is denied," he repeated.

Otto gave it up, seeing that no argument would be accepted. "Yes, sir."

"Absent thee again without my leave, and the consequences will be severe, Baron."