Surrender to the Will of the Night - By Glen Cook Page 0,63

Dumaine.”

“Yes sir.”

For the remainder of the evening Hecht mostly observed. Keeping an eye on Pella, in particular.

Anna had gotten a few social skills to stick.

* * *

Madouc remained in the quiet room while the Captain-General saw the Viscount. It was the largest quiet room in the Palace of Kings but not so big that the chief bodyguard had to strain to eavesdrop. Madouc was less inclined to avoid the Captain-General lately.

“How can I help you?” the Viscount asked. Politely, conscious of being a prisoner but unwilling to stifle his pride of class completely.

“Sit. Share coffee with me. And tell me about Vali Dumaine.”

The Viscount did the first two, not concealing his delight at being offered the rare and precious drink. But he thought some before doing the third. “Vali Dumaine is my sister. She’s Countess of Bleus. Why do you ask?”

“To find out. What you just said is a variation on what I’ve already heard. I thought she was your wife. I didn’t understand why your wife would be Countess of Bleus while you were Viscount of … what is it?”

“Klose. You can throw a rock across it. Once I’ve been ransomed it’ll belong to someone else. I’ll have to go live with my sister. Or join the Brotherhood. You haven’t told me why you’re asking.”

“I haven’t.” The Captain-General let that lie there. “Do you have any connection with Sonsa?”

“I? None. My father traveled on a Sonsan ship when he went on crusade. Him and his three brothers. He was the one who came home. The one who inherited even though he was the third son.”

“The Holy Lands are a harsh mistress. They devour all who come there. Are you involved with the Special Office? The Witchfinders in particular?”

“No. We don’t see that kind back home. There used to be a Brotherhood chapter house outside Salpeno. You’d see a few of them in the city. But they pulled out before Charlve the Dim died. Cherault, one of Anne’s clever villains, had a scheme for confiscating their assets. They found out. They left with all their wealth. Cherault contracted a wasting disease. It causes him a lot of pain. He’ll be a long time dying.”

“Are the two connected?”

Madouc was very attentive. And contemplative.

“Unfortunately, the world doesn’t work that mechanically. Bad people don’t get what they’ve got coming. And good people die young.”

“And all we can do is trust that it’s part of God’s plan. Yes. You have children? On either side of the blanket?”

The Viscount glowered. “I insist on knowing what this is about.”

“Sit. Viscount. You don’t insist on anything. I’m a lowlife hiresword with no noble blood and no honor, even if I do command the Patriarch’s armies and embarrass his enemies regularly. How can you count on a man like that not to drop you off a bridge, or have you strangled and burned to deny your hope of resurrection? Or any of the other wicked things a man like me might do?”

“You’d lose your ransom.”

“Hardly a problem. The Count of Antieux will buy all the Arnhander prisoners I’m willing to wholesale. He wants to send their pickled heads to your sweet King Anne. Or he could sell them into slavery across the Mother Sea. He talks about that when he’s feeling particularly vengeful.”

Viscount Dumaine had turned pale. But he did not disgrace himself.

“He’s a mad dog, Count Raymone. If you Arnhanders insist on plundering the Connec, Raymone will make you pay in barrels of blood. But I don’t want to talk about that. I’m interested in a girl child named Vali Dumaine. About thirteen. Possibly younger. Found as a captive in a Sonsan brothel. She claimed she was being used as leverage to force her father to do something. Everyone who can answer to the truth or falsehood of the claim is dead. I look into it when I get the chance. This was a chance. You and your sister are the only Dumaines I’ve ever identified.”

“I can’t solve your mystery. Sorry.”

Hecht wished the Ninth Unknown was making a nuisance of himself, still. He could help with this. The Viscount was being truthful, in the main, but something not quite right was happening, too.

Might be interesting to have him stripped, to see if he didn’t have some little hidden tattoo.

Hecht asked, “You haven’t gone on crusade? Never been to the Holy Lands yourself?”

Dumaine eyed him several seconds before making a decision. “I went with my father.” That would be a matter of record, hard to hide. “I was