"Yes, I am afraid so."
Ninomar nodded. "Then, Shadow, you are no longer Shadow. You are Ensign...Harl, wasn't it? You are therefore under my orders. When we have all had some rest, the search will be resumed--and His Grace and myself will be in charge. You may continue to fly NailBiter, as no one else seems to be able to. There will be an inquiry--"
"I am Shadow!" Shadow shouted, scrambling to his feet. "The king appointed me!"
"The king will kill you," Ukarres muttered.
"I am Shadow!"
Ninomar waved an arm, and two sleepy-looking troopers hurried over.
"Take this man to his quarters," he said.
"I am Shadow! I give the orders!"
As they dragged him from the hall he was still half weeping, half shouting: "I am Shadow."
Chapter 8
"Plain eggs can hatch strange chicks."
"I will see that bet," Aurolron XX said, "and raise you three."
The baby-faced trooper licked his lips. "I believe I shall have to fold," he muttered hoarsely.
The king's eyebrows rose. "With a pair of queens showing?" he murmured. "Where is the courage we expect in our Guard?"
Ensign Rolsok turned even paler--if that were possible--and pushed five gold royals toward the center of the table. It was a kiloday's pay for an ensign. He lived on his family's money, not on his stipend, but the tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip shone like fine jewels in the sunlight.
It was a long, long time since Shadow had enjoyed himself so much. Even sitting behind the king, he could not view the royal hand, for Aurolron played all cards close to the chest, but that did not matter--the king was playing with a marked deck, and Shadow could read all the other hands as well as Aurolron could. They had been at it since dinner, and the king was systematically, progressively, and mercilessly ruining his opponents. It was a vintage performance by the royal spider.
The balcony was crowded round by heavy trees, sheltered and private. Two bells had already rung, yet the game showed no signs of ending. It was an unusual group, the king and five youths: Prince Jarkadon and four others. The only persons close were Shadow and an elderly secretary whose job was to keep track of debts, while waiters and guards hovered at a distance. There was heaped gold, shining and clinking; there was fine wine; there was gracious conversation--a little strained at times--and there was gambling. There was no mercy. Perhaps there was even a smell of justice.
The court might gossip and censure, but it was rarely shocked. Certain things were a known peril for scullery maids and other minor menials--no one was interested in those private lives. Yet even the court's tolerance had its limits. When the daughter of a baronet was grievously abused, then full-scale scandal erupted.
A half-wit gardener was arrested, tried, convicted, and impaled.
The court was not deceived. The girl's family was displaying sudden new wealth, so silence had been purchased--and that was not done for dead gardeners. Stories were whispered of a group of young sadists who called themselves the Lions. The Lions, it was said, included representatives of some of the best families. The Lions had been indulging their peculiar taste in recreation for some time and had only just started to seek their victims among the better classes...and so on.
The royal spies brought all of the rumors and most of the facts to the king, and so to Shadow. Shadow knew very well who were the Lions and who was the leader of the pride. He knew who had bought the silence.
For a while the atrocities must have stopped or returned to the kitchens. Then a second case occurred among the gentry: this time two girls, one so damaged that she might never recover. The king defended his own--a couple of minor lackeys were hauled into court and duly found guilty. Again money and sinecures were dispensed to the families.
But this time the king had decided to act. Four young men were unexpectedly invited to a game of cards with His Majesty. Such an invitation was never refused, although each of them must have been surprised by it--they were friends of Prince Jarkadon, not of the king.
Surprise turned to terror when they saw who else had been invited. They waited grimly for mention of their sadistic diversions--and it did not come. They were there to play cards. The cards and coins were produced. The play began.
Understandably, the guests were not at their best. The king was. He could probably have beaten them handily without the marked deck. He was charming and courteous and lethal.
"Five?" muttered the next boy, the one they called Crusher. He moved his lips as he counted out the coins with massive peasant hands, although his cards were quite worthless. His family was rich also, but four young men were going to have to crawl to their respective fathers bearing news of sudden incredible debts.
Bills from merchants could be ignored. Not a debt to the king.
By Shadow's rough calculation, the king had already won enough to run his palace for thirty days. The families would be crippled, forced to sell estates to pay for this evening.
Aurolron had shown that he knew exactly who were the Lions, and brutality had never been mentioned.
"Son?"
Jarkadon was eyeing the cards thoughtfully. He had been as shocked as his playmates when he arrived, but he had recovered his poise as soon as he saw the nature of the plot. The king might keep his son on a slack rein, but he could hardly bankrupt himself, and he was obviously not about to go public with his knowledge, so Jarkadon at least was immune. The chief Lion was safe. Yet Jarkadon was also in a trap. Two cheaters working together could manage a crooked game much more easily than one. Whose side would the prince take? He had made the wiser choice.
"I'll see your raise, Father," he said, smiling, "and raise you another five."
Four pairs of eyes turned to him in agony. Treachery! The stakes were becoming even more colossal as the game proceeded, with no sign of an ending.
The next young man had some trouble speaking, but he asked the secretary for another hundred.
It was a vintage performance.
Then a herald came running out the door and was intercepted at once by a hovering equerry. Shadow saw the document passed, saw the glance toward the king. The equerry approached. As a welcome relief from long sitting, Shadow rose and stepped over to intercept in turn. He recognized the seal as he carried the letter back.
The king muttered a polite apology to his guests, but he had noticed also, and he read the letter as close to his chest as he had played his cards. His expression did not change by an eyelash, but one does not stand by a man for five kilodays without coming to know him well. This was the high one, Shadow decided. He glanced over at Jarkadon--and the young devil was watching him, not the king. Damn!
The king read the letter through a second time, then folded it up. He put his hands on the arms of his chair to rise, and the whole group was on its feet before him. Wild relief shone in four young faces.
"Our regrets, gentlemen. Perhaps we can continue this another day?" Still no trace of expression, but the mere lack of it was ominous. They were courtiers; they could vanish gracefully and yet quickly. Jarkadon stood expectant, eyes gleaming. The king beckoned the equerry. "Find Her Majesty. We believe she is attending a chamber concert somewhere. We would meet with her --in the cabinet, we think would be best. At her convenience."
He eyed Jarkadon and nodded. Jarkadon was trying very hard to conceal excitement, and not succeeding. The king walked toward the door; by the time he had reached the corridor beyond, he had collected guards before and behind and was moving within a convoy. Shadow could feel the emotional temperature rising steadily and the palace web beginning to quiver: The king has received a message from Ninar Foan and has summoned the queen--and to the cabinet, not the private quarters.