“…Sir Brisbois? Would you be willing?” The baroness’ voice broke through Brisbois’ reverie. Her brown eyes, hard as agates, bored into him. He was sure she had called upon him deliberately, and his dislike for the daughter of Arturus Penhaligon deepened. She’s got her father’s eyes, he thought waspishly. I remember the old man looking at me in just the same way.
Sir Brisbois hurried to his feet. He bowed toward Arteris. “Of course, Your Ladyship. I should be delighted to handle the matter for you,” Brisbois said smoothly. He held one hand on the silky blue tunic that covered his chain mail and used the other to hold back the ceremonial sword hanging at his side.
“Wonderful,” was Arteris’ sour reply. “Who will you appoint to the committee?” she added.
Brisbois flashed his most disarming smile. “After I’ve given the matter some consideration, Your Ladyship, I’ll report back to you. I have some ideas of my own I need to take under advisement.” He nodded gracefully.
“Good sir knight,” Arteris said with asperity, “we have spent the last several hours ‘considering’ the matter. Enough is enough. Please make your selection now.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Brisbois spotted a furtive gesture from one of the council members. Three seats away from the baroness, Lord Maldrake nodded slightly. Brisbois smiled. Maldrake was Arteris’ cousin-by-marriage and Brisbois’ cohort. “Why, Your Ladyship, I’d like to appoint Lord Maldrake, with your permission.” Brisbois held out his hand toward the blond knight, a younger man clearly entering the prime of his life. Lord Maldrake was considered something of a rake, for he charmed women easily. Most men respected and feared him, and he had the reputation of being ruthless if crossed—a reputation not undeserved.
The baroness glanced toward Maldrake and nodded with icy civility. “If Lord Maldrake accepts—”
“I do, my baroness, with alacrity.” Lord Maldrake, who didn’t rise in deference, was equally icy, his tongue caressing the term “my baroness.” His thickly hooded green eyes glinted darkly. “I’m delighted to attend Sir Brisbois in this matter. I have many excellent ideas for easing the peasants’ burdens.”
The baroness responded, “Splendid, Lord Maldrake.” She turned to Sir Brisbois but touched the arm of the graying gentleman to her left. “And I think I shall appoint our good castellan to the committee as well. Doubtless Sir Graybow’s wisdom and experience will… add to the originality of your plans.” She smiled once again at Sir Brisbois, a smile that showed she would brook no argument. He shot a glance at Sir Graybow, but the old knight’s head was lowered. The baroness stood.
Arteris closed her eyes and lifted her hands toward the vault above. “We thank the Immortals for blessing us with the outcome of this meeting and this day.” Then she lowered her arms, clasped her hands together, and gazed steadily at the council members. “And thank you for joining me today, good friends. Fare-thee-well.” The baroness took the castellan’s proffered arm and left the room. The other members of the council, a number of them grumbling quietly, followed after.
Only Sir Brisbois and Maldrake remained seated. Casually, Brisbois stood and sauntered over to Maldrake. The blond lord tilted the heavy chair back on two legs—no mean feat—and propped his spurred boots on the elegantly carved cherry table. His hard-edged boot marked the table as he tapped his foot distractedly.
Brisbois leaned against the table and peered at his longtime friend. “Thanks for stepping in. I’m afraid I was thinking of other things—”
“The wench I sent you last night?” Maldrake grinned wickedly.
Brisbois felt a momentary shudder; his friend was sometimes so clearly malevolent. Slowly, Brisbois also grinned. “Yes. Thank you for her, by the way. She was a treat—I may even ask for her again.” He shifted his weight to his other foot. “But I missed what Arteris was talking about. What’s she snagged us for this time?”
Maldrake’s chair crashed forward to the floor, and he clapped his hands together. “Hah!” he cried. “This’ll be great fun! We’re supposed to come up with ways to decrease the tax burden on the peasants!”
Brisbois frowned. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.” Maldrake’s green eyes turned malicious. He stood and leaned toward Brisbois. “See, we tell the peasants we’re instituting new tax plans that will help them, but in reality we’ll tax them harder in ways that can’t be traced. I’ll work on that. We’ll pocket the difference. Brisbois, the baroness’ practically begging us to commit larceny!” His green eyes glinted in the lantern light.
Brisbois felt again a stirring of admiration for his friend. “I see, I see!” he said excitedly. “But what about Graybow? How do we get around him?”
Maldrake waved his hand. “Leave him to me. Graybow’s old and starting to dodder. He won’t be hard to handle.” He clasped a hand on the taller man’s shoulder and said, “Yvaughan has dinner waiting in our quarters. Why don’t you join us?” He added spitefully, “She’d be glad of the company.”
Brisbois grimaced. “Is tonight a good night? Your wife waxes cold and warm toward me, Maldrake. I’ve never understood her or her moods.”
“Perhaps she secretly resents you, Brisbois,” the younger knight replied. “Perhaps she resents you for destroying her former husband.” Maldrake’s heavy-lidded eyes gleamed.
“Why should she? I did everything as she requested—everything,”—Brisbois countered hotly. “Without me, she couldn’t have divorced Flinn to marry you. I deserve praise, not blame.” The two walked across the marble floor and through the fifteen-foot-high double doors.
“And I’m glad you did it, Brisbois,” Maldrake rejoined. “Make no doubt about that.” He stopped walking and turned to the knight, his face alight with new thoughts. “Have you made arrangements for our… friend?” Lord Maldrake’s look was maliciously inquisitive.
“The, er, watcher—” Brisbois lowered his voice as a page hurried by “—is in place, if that’s what you mean. It’s unfortunate that it misunderstood my directions before.”
“That’s what has me concerned,” Maldrake put his hand on Brisbois’ arm. “I want you there next time, to make sure everything goes as planned.”
“What?” Brisbois exclaimed. “What if it fails and comes after me? What if I’m seen?”
“It won’t, and you won’t be,” Maldrake leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper as two pages and a squire walked down the wide hall. “Teryl has something that will see to that. I’ll give it to you tonight. Besides, you won’t get close enough to be seen. Just make sure it follows orders this time.”
The knight nodded, though his face had darkened perceptibly at the mention of Teryl Auroch, Maldrake’s mage. “All right, Maldrake. However you want it. I just wish you’d hurry this up and get it over with.”
The blond lord smiled toothsomely. “If you take care of our little problem next week, all will run smoothly. It’s as simple as that.” Maldrake smiled again. “Why don’t you come to my quarters in, say, half an hour or so? I’ve got a few orders to leave with the captain of the town guard.”
“Like what?”
Again he flashed the smile. “Like having fifty horses ‘taxed’ from the peasants and delivered to that abandoned logging camp in the Wulfholdes. Horses we can sell to a merchant—a very reliable merchant—arriving next week from Specularum.”
“How are you going to explain this if anyone asks?”
Brisbois said, admiring the younger man’s temerity.
“Easy!” Maldrake crowed. “Without horses, the peasants won’t have to pay taxes for traveling our roads. Therefore, their taxes will be reduced.”