Speak to the Devil

CHAPTER 26

Riding through Mauvnik, Wulf was anxious to consult his Voices, but reluctant to let any of the vendors, pedestrians, or barrow-pullers see him talking to empty space. He had to wait until he was almost at the Bacchus before he found a gap in the traffic.

“Holy Saints, if I ask you, can you take me to Castle Orel, in Bavaria?”

The Light brightened the alley and St. Helena spoke.

— No.

“What! Why not?”

No answer, of course. That sort of question they never answered.

But the Light remained, so he tried again. “You took me to Koupel, and you took me to Cardice. And Dobkov, and now Mauvnik. What’s different about Bavaria?”

Still no answer, meaning he had to work out the answer for himself. He knew Dobkov intimately and he had seen pictures of Castle Gallant. And the Voices had offered to take him to Marek, not to Koupel.

“Could you take me to my brother Vladislav?”

— Yes.

Success! “Thank you, but not right now. Can you tell me where he is and what he is doing?”

— He is in bed, Victorinus said.

— Fornicating, Helena added.

That did sound like Vlad, although the timing was odd. Nor was it a likely occupation while chained to a cellar wall.

“At this time of day? Has he nothing better to do?”

— No, he is a captive. But his captor treats him well. He is allowed to abuse servant women.

Did the girls regard it as abuse, or a welcome break in their working day?

Wulf thanked the Voices and rode into the innyard. He was starting to define limits to their powers. He felt that this must be significant, if he could just see how.

Copper would not be welcome in Vlad’s bedroom. Wulf returned him to care of the stable hands, and remembered to take the bag of gold away with him, trying not to tilt sideways too conspicuously as he walked. Upstairs he found the hired boy sitting outside the room, cleaning a basketful of boots.

“You carry on with that,” he said as he unlocked the door. “I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone except Baron Magnus himself, understand?”

He locked himself in. The room was probably the best in the house, and even two good-sized beds did not clutter it much. Large windows let in plenty of sun, but they were securely barred and not overlooked by any others. Miracle-working should be safe enough here.

“Holy saints,” he said very softly. “What is Vlad doing now?”

— Vladislav has dismissed his companion and is asleep already.

“Will you take me to him, please?”

A rectangular slice of reality disappeared into darkness. Stepping closer, he smelled different air. There was a door-sized hole there into somewhere else, a dimmer place, and a wind blowing in his face. Gingerly, he stretched out a hand. It did not fall off, but it was in deep shadow.

— Step through, quickly!

Wulf obeyed and was plunged into gloom as the doorway behind him closed. A roar of thunder shattered the silence. He ignored it, hoping that the boy in the Bacchus had not heard. Already his eyes had adapted enough to see chinks of light around a shutter. He made his way to it without tripping over anything and opened it, to find himself looking out a window high up in one tower of a many-towered castle, upon a crag surrounded by green forest. In the distance lay a small silver lake flanked by a road that might be the main approach. White mountains lined the skyline. So this was Bavaria, was it?

Another explosion of thunder…

He turned to survey a circular and drafty chamber. The four-poster bed in the center almost filled it, leaving only space for a chair, a chest, a commode, and of course the ladder connecting traps in floor and ceiling. A pleasant enough jail, if the supply of servant girls held up.

“Saints, can anyone hear us speak?” Or, Speak.

— Not at present.

“Thank you.”

Another monstrous snore… Why didn’t the curtains billow and the tower sway? Wulf took a firm grip on the bed curtain nearest the window and hauled it aside, thereby exposing a mound of quilt like a haystack under snow.

“Vlad! Vlad! Wake up! It’s Wulf.”

The next snore didn’t happen. “Uh?” Vlad mumbled.

“Wake up! It’s Wulfgang, your brother.”

“Wha-?” The quilt surged up and dropped to expose the top half of Sir Vladislav Magnus, sitting up and blinking.

Wulf had forgotten just how huge the largest Magnus was, and how hairy. His shoulders were thatched. His jaw and brow were massive, and although his hairline was starting to recede, there was little bare skin visible anywhere on his face. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Very few young men wore beards, but his was as huge as everything else about him.

“God be with you, Brother.”

“Fires of hell! How did you get here, Wolfcub?”

Wulf put a finger to his lips and whispered, “I Spoke.”

His brother glowered ogrishly. “After they took Marek, you swore you’d never do that!”

“And I didn’t-not until I had to stop Anton breaking his neck. Once you get started, it’s hard to give it up. Like servant girls. Here, Anton sent you this.” He dropped the bag on the foothills marking Vlad’s thighs-close enough to his crotch to get his attention, but not close enough to damage.

“God’s breath! Be careful, boy! What’s this?”

“Two thousand florins.”

Vlad drew a deep breath. “From Anton?”

Despite the forebodings Wulf had jokingly expressed to Otto, he was looking forward to this discussion. “The first installment on his wife’s dowry. Baby Anton’s been growing up while you’ve been lazing around here, Sir Vlad. At the moment he is keeper of Castle Gallant, in Cardice, guarding the Silver Road north.” He watched the shaggy eyebrows fly up. An honor like that would satisfy Vlad as a worthy reward for a whole lifetime of cleaving and skewering the king’s enemies. “Unfortunately the Pomeranians are invading. Anton doesn’t have forces to withstand a long siege and the king can’t get reinforcements there before the Wends bring up their wall-smashing cannon. Anton needs your help, Brother. He needs a seasoned warrior like you. He needs you very much and very soon.”

Vlad’s always-ugly face twisted into something worse. “You are making this up. How did you get here, really?”

“Before God, every word I said is true.”

The big man scowled as he thought it through. “And how do I get to Castle Gallant?”

“My Voices will take us.”

Vlad crossed himself. “Satanism!”

“If my Voices are evil, why have they saved Anton’s life twice in the last week? Anyway, I can tell you everything when we get to Dobkov.”

Vlad laughed at him. “Just like that? Am I allowed to put on some clothes first? Emilian isn’t here. He won’t be back until tonight, probably late. All this money will have to be weighed.”

“It’s warranted by a Medici seal on the bag.”

“Won’t matter, sonny. And there’s not just me. What about my lance-two squires, a sergeant, and a varlet. You planning to talk the devil into taking all of us?”

“Just you!” Wulf snapped.

“Thought so. Well, they’ll have to follow. You brought the money they’ll need on the road?”

“You sent them home two years ago.” Wulf had forgotten how annoying this brother’s twisted humor could be. He seemed to consider it some sort of hazing, and he would probably be doing it to his youngest brother when they were both in their dotage.

“So I did. Just wondering if you remembered. You have the money to cover my quarter the last two years?”

“How much more do you want?”

“About eighty florins ought to cover it.”

“ Eighty? I don’t happen to have that much on me.”

“You’ll have to find it before I can leave here.”

“Maybe Anton can get by without you.”

“Maybe he’ll have to.”

Wulf reached out to take back the money bag and a hand the size of a steel gauntlet closed on his wrist; he was helpless in that grip. No matter how hard he tugged, the hand did not budge.

“Well, Wolfcub? You haven’t answered my question.”

For a moment the brothers just stared at each other. The big man had never been known for his courtly manners, and now that he was learning how two junior brothers had lapped him during his captivity he must be feeling especially vicious. Wulf wondered uneasily if Vlad was truly someone he should entrust with his big secret.

“Why don’t you grow a beard, Wolfcub? Or can’t you, yet?”

“Why don’t you write a note for the rest of the money, or doesn’t he trust you? Ow! That hurts!”

The big man released his wrist. “It was meant to. All right, I’ll talk to Emilian tomorrow and see how much he wants.”

“Otto added another sixty florins. What do the servant girls charge?”

Anger bristled the great beard. “You been spying on me?”

“No, but when I asked my Voices what you were doing a little while ago, they told me.”

“That’s a pretty handy trick. You going to stay the night?”

“No. What time tomorrow? Terce? Can you be up that early?”

Vlad scowled. “Could be ready then, or at least I’ll know if I can’t come.”

“Then I’ll ride up to the front door about terce. I don’t want to meet anyone or see anyone. You ride out to meet me. If anyone else appears, then I’ll be gone and you can stay here and rot.”

“For a beardless brat, you give a lot of orders to your seniors.”

“Victorinus, take me to the inn.” Wulf spun around and stepped into a blaze of sunlight. The mystic doorway closed behind him. Screwing up his eyes against the brightness, he laughed. He wished he could see Vlad’s face right then, but imagining it was almost as good.

Obviously Otto had not yet returned from the palace. That left Wulf the choice of wasting his appetite by eating his dinner in the inn, or stretching out on a bed to wait for him.

Hunger won. He went down to the dining room, which was dark and packed tight with plank tables and benches, but he was happily surprised to see how crowded the place was. The food might not be good, but it must be better than the Bacchus’s competitors’. He found an empty space on a bench and paid the wench half a silver penny for water to wash his hands, a flagon of wine, and a trencher of four-day-old bread. He proceeded to heap the trencher with slices of salt pork, fresh boiled mutton, rye bread, and spoonfuls of onion sauce and beans. He had barely put his knife back in his belt before Otto squeezed in beside him.

“Much as expected,” he said, smiling. “Promises, no more.”

“Same with me. I have to go back for him at terce tomorrow.”

There were too many other people at their table and directly behind them to say more about important matters. They could speak only in generalities.

“How long,” Wulf asked, “until our other brother gets some company?”

Shrug. “My friend said maybe forty days.”

“Why so long? The boy Gintaras rode here in eight days!”

Otto grinned in an affectionate, big-brotherly way. “First he has to find the money, and no king ever has enough money. Then find men. He won’t send the regiments, because they have to stay and guard the capital. If he does, they have to be replaced here. Either he must find mercenaries or call up a feudal levy. September is the worst possible time to muster levies. Is the mutton as tough as it looks?”

“Tougher. The pork is good and lardy, though, and there’s lots of honey and raisins in the frumenty.”

Otto cut a slice of pork with his knife and spooned some of the thick wheat porridge onto his trencher. “It’s not just time from here to there that counts. It’s couriers from here to the countryside, then men from the countryside back to here, then on to where you need them. Mercenaries are moving into winter quarters, the lords are away hunting so they can have salt venison in the winter, and even when they get the summons, they don’t want to take their men from the fields and vineyards.

“Meanwhile the quartermaster has to find horses and tack, oxen and wagons, victuals, fodder, tentage, bows and arrows, guns, powder and shot, horseshoes and nails, blacksmiths, farriers, saddlers, anvils, carters, and fletchers and bowyers. Some of these are certain to be almost impossible to find, but you never know which will be lacking this time. Officers want attendants, heralds, secretaries, and cooks; the men want women and priests, in that order. If Mauvnik can even get such a force moving within forty days, it’ll be a miracle.

“And the journey itself will be a teeth-grinding business. Armies often make only three or four miles a day. Winter days are short; they can’t start before dawn, and they need daylight to pitch camp. Trails can divide or disappear altogether in the forest, and if it rains they become mud pits. Rivers in flood wash away ferries and bridges; they drown the fords and turn the water meadows into marshlands for a mile on either side of them. Don’t even think about snow-you damn nearly have to carry the horses then. Armies always have food and forage problems. The lords don’t want them anywhere near their game parks. In enemy country it’s easier, you just go where you please and take what you want, but if you try that in your own homeland, you’re going to have barons running to the king, screaming rape and pillage.”

Wulf licked his fingers. “I think my way of traveling is better.”

“Oh, it is, lad, it is!”

Would Castle Gallant still be standing when the king’s men finally arrived?

After dinner, Otto changed back into traveling clothes and settled with the landlord, who was happy to rent out the same room twice in one day. Once they had left the yard, heading for the city gate, the brothers could talk freely of war and Voices.

“Vlad is as cantankerous as ever, and even bigger, I think,” Wulf said. “I’m to meet him at the castle door tomorrow. I should take him straight to Cardice, shouldn’t I?” Cardice and Madlenka! He must see her again, even if all he could do was admire her from afar, like the poet Petrarch adoring Laura.

Otto agreed. “We don’t want to have to explain any more miracles than we must. The Spider admitted that he knew who put Anton over that jump at the hunt. He admitted he wanted you more than Anton, but had been told that you were only sixteen, too young for his purpose.”

“I think Marek started that story. Which means the cardinal gets his information from the monastery.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Otto said. “And if Marek misinformed the monks about your age, he was probably trying to protect you. But Zdenek knows who and what you are, and he agrees you should be rewarded.”

“Does he truly? If I survive, of course. Reward me for Speaking to the devil? Can I sue him if he doesn’t keep his promise?”

Otto laughed. “You can probably scare him by threatening to turn him into a real spider. As far as your ladylove is concerned, he seemed quite sympathetic and certainly didn’t rule out a change of bridegroom. That is, as long as she doesn’t go and marry Anton first. And I told him that you need help just as much as Anton does. Again he didn’t promise, but he did say he would try to send someone. The password will be ‘Greenwood.’”

Wulf thought about all that and said nothing while they waited to clear the gate, where a jam of travelers was lined up to be inspected by the guards. Then a path was opened for the nobility. They were waved through and saluted.

The road was less busy outside, but the city had outgrown its walls, and was flanked by a wide sprawl of cottages. There were still too many people in view to risk a disappearance, but not so many that they could not talk freely.

“Password?” Wulf said. “Then Cardinal Zdenek regularly employs Speakers? Like the Church does?”

Otto was looking bleak. “Possible, but I got the impression that the archbishop helps out the cardinal every once in a while and Zdenek may ask for such a favor this time. Obviously he did not admit that.”

“Lord love me! You mean he’s going to borrow a Speaker from the archbishop?”

“Why not? You tell me the Wends are employing a Speaker, Father Vilhelmas. But how many more do they have? How many Speakers does it take to move a bombard along a mountain road? The archbishop won’t want a war, and certainly not an invasion led by Orthodox priests.”

“But the abbot…” Wulf wondered if the Church might even send Marek and then discarded the thought. “How do Speakers control other Speakers?”

“That question,” Otto said sadly, “is your largest worry right now.”

No, it wasn’t. Madlenka was.

“Koupel is famous for its medicinal springs, Wulf. People go there to be cured of their ills. Rich ones give generous endowments.”

That was heresy, saying that the pilgrims were cured by Satanists.

Wulf looked away to study the road. So many people! Arriving from Dobkov in the morning had been easy-the road had been empty-but now there was no gap big enough to disappear from.

His reverie was interrupted when Otto said, “Can you move two men through limbo, as you call it? Could you take both Vlad and me to Cardice?”

“I don’t move anyone, but I can ask my Voices. That would be wonderful, if you would come. Wonderful!”

Otto smiled. “I may be needed as mediator. Anton will become insufferable pretty fast. Does he wear his coronet to bed yet? He needs Vlad, but Vlad having to take orders from Anton is likely to blow up Castle Gallant faster than the Wends’ bombard.”

Wulf laughed, but then he noticed a couple of sizable barns near the road. “See those? If we ride between them, we should be out of sight long enough to enter limbo. Holy Saints, when my brother and I are out of public view behind that barn, will you please move both of us to Dobkov, to somewhere on the road where we won’t be seen?”

— You are becoming very devious in your requests, Wulfgang, my son. Helena sounded amused, fortunately.

“I am wise to be devious, aren’t I? I am very grateful for all your help.”

His trick seemed to work. They ran the horses along the corridor at a fast pace and emerged on the Dobkov road. Again old Balaam was spooked, even making a game effort to buck. Copper merely flickered his ears in the equine equivalent of a shrug. Whether anyone back at Mauvnik was having hysterics about Satanism, Wulf could not know, but it seemed unlikely. Only someone deliberately watching the two riders would have noticed their failure to reappear, and who wouldn’t sooner believe that their eyes were playing tricks?

As they rode into the bailey, the first thing Wulf noticed was a groom rubbing down a chestnut stallion over by the stable door.

“We have company! That’s Morningstar.”

Otto frowned. “So it is. Where did you leave him-Mauvnik?”

“No,” Wulf said. “Koupel.”