The Baker's Boy (66 page)

"So how did
you turn to pocketin'?"

"Well there's
not much money to be made as a lookout. Oh, there's prestige all right, but no
money. A good friend of mine suggested that I try my hand at pocketin' and I've
never looked back." Nabber spread out on the grass, indicating the end of
his tale by closing his eyes and settling down for a nap.

Tawl wondered how
much the boy had left out-he did not doubt Nabber's words, but he felt that the
boy was holding some things back. Tawl was a man who understood the need for
privacy, so he asked no more questions and let the boy sleep.

Maybor spent the
night in his daughter's bedroom. He was a man used to the gore of the
battlefield; he had seen men's limbs pulled from their bodies, soldiers hacked
into pieces, but the sight of the girl in his bed had been too much for him to
bear. He had called for his servant, Crandle, who had dressed him and guided
him away from his chambers while the body was dealt with.

Maybor found he
could not stomach the thought of sleeping in the same bed in which the girl had
lain, skinned. He had retired to Melliandra's chamber to await the questioning
of the Royal Guard. The captain had arrived in due course and was thoughtful
enough to bring a jug of fortified wine with him. Maybor was, of course, under
no suspicion. He was a lord and the girl but a servant.

Maybor knew who
had done the deed and why it had been done, but he mentioned neither to the
guard: conflicts between lords were kept between lords. It was an unspoken code
and Maybor had no desire to break it. This was between him and Baralis.

The king's
chancellor was a proud man, and proud men do not like to show weakness. When he
had drawn the sword upon Baralis, the man had flinched. The chambermaid Lilly
had paid for that flinch with her life. Maybor cursed himself. He should have
carved him up while he had the chance. Maybor was tired. He had been unable to
sleep, but it was more than that. He was tired of being beaten by Baralis,
tired of looking for his daughter. He ran his fingers through his graying hair,
contemplating how he should counter this latest move by the king's chancellor.
It was appalling what the man had done. Of course he would not have performed
the deed himself, Baralis was far too discerning to get blood on his hands. He
would have sent his idiot Crope to do the job.

It seemed to
Maybor that of late Baralis was always in the background scheming and
contriving, sabotaging his plans with one hand and trying to poison him with
the other. Maybor sat on the bed thinking deeply. He needed to become more
calculating. He would have to match Baralis' cunning and wit if he were ever to
get the better of the man. The king's chancellor favored intrigue and duplicity
and it was time that he, Maybor, tried his hand at such methods. He smiled-a
grim, bloodless smile. He would beat the master at his own game.

"My
lord."

Maybor was
surprised by the presence of his servant. "Yes, Crandle, what is it?"
He sighed heavily.

"The queen
commands you to her audience chamber."

"She wishes
to see me now?" The servant nodded. "Go quickly to my chambers and
bring my new red-and-gold robe. Hurry!" Maybor watched his servant dash
away and then went over to the mirror and busied himself smoothing his hair and
cleaning his teeth with a dry rag.

The servant
returned minutes later with the robe and proceeded to dress his master. He
brought fragrant oils to groom his hair and a sprig of rosemary to sweeten his
breath.

Once he was
satisfied with his appearance, Maybor left his daughter's bedroom and made his
way through the castle. He walked the length of the ladies' chambers, and then
down into the courtyard which divided the men's quarters from the women's. In
the distance he spotted a familiar figure: it was his son Kedrac. Maybor was
sure he had come to offer his help to revenge what had happened the night
before. However, as Kedrac approached he saw the boy had a dark expression on
his face. Maybor decided he had no time to deal with his son and hurried off in
the direction of the queen's chamber.

"Father!"
The cry was harsh and stopped Maybor in his tracks. Kedrac came level with him.
"What is this, Father, running from your son?" His voice was cold,
taunting.

"Kedrac, I
have an audience with the queen. I will talk with you later."

"You will
talk to me now, Father," hissed Kedrac. "The girl who was found
skinned in your bed, she was the chambermaid, Lilly." Maybor made no
reply. "Is that right, Father!"

"Yes, yes,
she was the chambermaid Lilly. Surely it's of no consequence to you, son. She
was nothing, a common slut, no reason to get angry over."

"Oh, I am not
angry over the girl. You are right she was a slut. No, I'm not angry over the
girl ... I am angry at you, Father." Kedrac's voice was charged with
contempt. "That you would steal a wench from my very bed. Are you that
desperate, or is it just that you have something to prove?" Maybor slapped
his son's face. "How dare you speak to me that way?" Kedrac smiled
unnervingly and touched his cheek, which now bore the mark of Maybor's hand
upon it. He lingered a moment, meeting his father's gaze, and then turned and
stormed off.

Maybor, let out a
sigh of relief. Kedrac was too headstrong, too proud. It was a grave mistake to
let a woman, especially a common servant, come between men. He had to admit
that he'd quite enjoyed slapping his son's face, though. The boy would recover;
his pride had been wounded, nothing more. Maybor hurried ahead. He could keep
the queen waiting no longer.

"Enter."
The queen's voice rang out. Maybor walked into the sumptuous chamber and bowed
low.

"I wish Your
Highness joy of the day."

"Ah, Lord
Maybor." The queen came over to greet him, smiling warmly and offering her
hand. Maybor took it and brought it to his lips. "I was most distressed to
hear about the girl found in your room." She gave him a querying look.
"Tell me, Lord Maybor, have you any idea who was responsible for this ...
inhuman act?"

"I cannot
begin to imagine who would do such a thing, Your Highness." Maybor
suspected the queen knew there was more to the incident.

"It is
certainly a tragedy. I have been informed that you did not sleep in your
chambers last night." The queen poured them both a cup of wine and invited
Maybor to sit.

"I slept ...
elsewhere." He didn't think it was a good time to mention his daughter's
name.

"Yes, I can
understand why you would not want to sleep in your own bed." The queen
handed him the wine. "With that thought in mind I have a gift for
you."

"A gift, Your
Highness." Maybor had never seen the queen so gracious, pouring wine with
her own hand and now a gift. He was beginning to feel wary. It was not usual
for the queen to make such a show of hospitality: did she have bad news to
break to him?

"I have
arranged to have your bed taken from your chambers and burnt. In its place I
will provide a new bed. A beautiful bed, carved by master craftsmen over two
centuries ago. It was a gift from the city of Isro to my husband and me on our
wedding day."

"Your
Highness, I am overwhelmed with your generosity." Maybor knew of the bed
of which she spoke. It was worth a fortune; inlaid with gold and precious
jewels, carved from the finest darkwoods. His suspicions grew-why was the queen
giving him such an extravagant gift?

"You will be
sleeping in it this very night, Lord Maybor." She raised her arm in a
silent toast. After she had drunk from her cup her face changed a little, and
she got up and walked across the room. She came to rest by the window.

The queen stood
and looked out on the courtyard for some minutes before speaking again.
"Lord Maybor, I am afraid I have ill tidings for you." She did not
turn to look at him. "I can no longer continue the search for your daughter.
I have need of the Royal Guard for other matters."

"I
understand, Your Highness." Maybor realized that the bed and the gracious
reception were acts of contrition. "You must also understand that we can
no longer hope to find your daughter. The Guard have looked for her almost a
month now. Tomorrow I will recall them from their search." The queen
finally turned and faced him. "Maybor, even if Melliandra were found now,
I could not sanction the betrothal. My son must be married to a girl beyond
reproach. We have no way of knowing what your daughter has been through, who
she has fallen in with. The woman who will be queen in my place must be
impeccable. The betrothal between my son and your daughter will not take
place." The queen bowed her head. "I am sorry, Lord Maybor, but I
have made my decision."

"As Your
Highness wishes," he said, struggling to keep his voice level. "May I
be permitted to know who you are considering in my daughter's place?"

"You will be
the first to know when a suitable girl is found." There was an edge to her
voice that Maybor could not understand. "There is, I hope, Lord Maybor, no
need to tell you how much I value your continuing allegiance and support."
It was as near to a plea as the queen could manage. She was asking him to
accept her decision and remain loyal to her. She needed his support to maintain
her position. He was not about to give her any such undertaking; they both knew
his loyalty was worth more than a jeweled bed.

"I know well
how much Your Highness depends upon my allegiance." He paused a moment so
there was no mistaking the meaning of his words. "I can assure you that I
will take no hasty actions." He bowed low, the silk of his robe rustling
softly. "And now, if Your Highness will permit, I will take my
leave."

As he made his way
to the door he stole a glance back toward the queen. She looked like a woman
greatly troubled.

Baralis was on his
way to speak with the new mercenaries. Crope had arranged for him to meet with
them close to the haven. There were only three of the first lot of mercenaries
that were fit for duty. The leader, Traff, was the only one to have escaped
completely unscathed. Baralis knew how much Traff hated him and wanted to be
free of him, but Baralis had no intention of letting the man off the hook.
Death would be the only discharge Traff could count on.

Baralis was
feeling decidedly cheerful. The incident with Maybor and the chambermaid had
gone off successfully; the whole castle was talking about it. The fact that the
girl had also been bedding Maybor's son was an added bonus to be relished; it
would surely cause some father-son tension. Perhaps he might even approach
Kedrac at some point, nothing brash, just a subtle overture-a wronged son could
prove to be a valuable asset against a father. He would wait and see. Having no
family himself, it was difficult for him to gauge the pull of family loyalty.

Baralis almost
felt .sorry for Maybor. Finding the girl must have been quite a nasty shock,
and if he was not mistaken, he had been dealt another blow today. He knew the
queen had summoned Maybor to an audience and strongly suspected that she had
told him the betrothal would not go ahead. After all, the time was up. Two
days. That was all that was left. Even if the wretched girl was found now she
could probably not be brought back to the castle in time.

Poor Maybor,
things were just not going his way! Baralis shook his head in mock
commiseration. He had lost his daughter, his lover, his chance at kingmaking,
and maybe even the loyalty of his oldest son. He would have to be monitored
carefully. Maybor was a man who prized revenge as highly as Baralis himself
did; he would undoubtedly retaliate in some way.

It was only a
matter of days now before Baralis' plans were realized; the queen would
reluctantly call him to her presence. They had business to settle. She had lost
the wager and must pay the reckoning. He knew he had placed her in a difficult
position-she had been forced to break her word to Maybor, and he was a man
whose loyalty she relied upon to keep the lesser lords in their place. Maybor
also contributed great sums of gold to the war against the Halcus, not to
mention the use of his men and his lands.

The queen was
probably feeling rather apprehensive at this moment, wondering how she could
pay her debt yet keep Maybor's allegiance. Baralis did not doubt for one second
her ability to do both;. she was no novice in the art of statecraft. The truth
was that she was far better at political maneuvering than her poor, sick
husband had ever been.

Baralis had taken
the precaution of walking to the haven through the woods. He did not want the
men he was to meet to know anything about his hideaway unless they were firmly
in his pay. He saw men waiting in the distance. He knew they would be watching
his approach; they, like most people who passed through Harvell, would have
heard tales about him. They would be a little afraid, a little wary, already
intimidated by the sight of him drawing close in his black robes.

"Good day,
gentlemen." He kept his voice low-let them strain to hear him!

"You are Lord
Baralis?" spoke one of the number.

"I am
he." Baralis made a point of meeting all the men's eyes.

"You are
looking to hire some men?" The man spoke with a certain assurance.

"I am willing
to pay well." The look of greed upon the men was unmistakable.

"I heard that
the last men you hired were killed in the woods." The man was trying to
raise the price.

"They were
careless. It would not have happened if they had been better led." Baralis
looked coolly at the leader. "What have you in mind?"

"To start
with I need two people tracked and found. After that I will require your
services for other matters."

"How
much?"

"Five golds
apiece."

"Done!"
cried the leader. He was a fool, thought Baralis. Traff had held out for eight.