The Trouble with Peace (The Age of Madness #2) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,142

familiar sound of their mother scolding the servants echoed from the hallway. “And for the Fates’ sakes, have a care!”

Carlot puffed out her cheeks. “You’ve brought me plenty to worry about already.”

“Couldn’t you have got pregnant or something?” murmured Orso from the corner of his mouth. “That would have been a perfect diversion.”

“My womb does not exist so you can distract our mother. A sentence I had hoped I would never have to utter.” She grinned as she nudged Orso in the ribs. “It isn’t for lack of trying, I can tell you. Sotty’s quite exhausted with his nightly efforts. For a big man, he’s surprisingly agile.”

Sotty was Carlot’s name for her husband, Chancellor Sotorius, something like the fifteenth ruler of Sipani to bear the name, only a few years younger than Orso’s mother and probably twice the weight. He could be something of a bore, but he doted on Carlot and had one of the best cellars in the world, so he was all right as far as Orso was concerned. The image of the chancellor’s nightly efforts with his sister was not one he wanted to be haunted by, however, agile or otherwise.

“That is… somewhat more detail than I required.”

“You’re the one who brought my pregnancy into this. Prudery really doesn’t suit you, Orso— Mother!”

As the Queen Dowager swept into the room, Carlot rushed over and administered a loving embrace. Her technique, which Orso had long admired, was to treat their mother as if she was being a tender and obliging parent regardless of her actual behaviour. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Your husband is not here?”

“Sadly, no.” Carlot flung herself down like a tragic heroine, shrugging off her mother’s displeasure with a flounce, like a duck flicking off rain. “Sotty’s got trouble with the assembly again. Sotty’s always got trouble. If we eat together two nights a week we’re lucky. If it isn’t the assembly it’s the merchants, and if the merchants are happy it’s the criminals, and if the criminals take a week off it’s the pimps.”

“I know just how he feels,” murmured Orso.

His mother raised a brow. “About the pimps?”

“Not that.” He thought about it. “Well, yes, that, but I was referring more to the demands of power.”

“Indeed?” said his mother with withering sarcasm. “Still, I suppose we three can dine together. Apart from Cathil it will be like having the family back together.”

There was an awkward silence. “Well, and Father,” said Carlot.

Another awkward silence. “And him,” said their mother. In all honesty, the only times Orso could remember them dining as a family had been the weddings of his two sisters, and even then his parents had only come within arm’s length of each other when etiquette strictly demanded.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend, either,” said Orso. “I have an engagement this evening. But we can dine together tomorrow. With Sotty, too, one can only hope. Then, sadly, I have to go back to Adua. Trouble with the lords of the Open Council, you know. If it’s not the Open Council it’s the Closed, and if the Closed are happy—”

“We can’t stay longer?” snapped his mother. “I wanted to spend some time with my daughter!”

The silence went beyond awkward and into ugly. Orso glanced at Carlot, hoping vainly that she might do the hard work for him. She gave a helpless little shrug, batting the responsibility back his way.

“What have the two of you arranged?” demanded his mother.

He gathered his courage, then puffed out his chest and met her raised chin with his own. “Mother. For the time being, I want you to stay in Sipani.”

“Absolutely not!” Her tone was so icy, it was a surprise her breath did not smoke. “My place is in Adua.”

“You’re always telling me how much you despise Adua.”

“I despise Sipani just as much.”

“You love Sipani.”

“Did you bring me here just to get rid of me?”

“No.” Even if he had. “Mother, listen to me—”

“I always do!”

“You never do!” He brought his voice back under control. “But this time you must. At the demonstration of Curnsbick’s engine, you were nearly killed.”

“Come now, don’t exaggerate—”

“High Justice Bruckel was sitting beside you and had his head cut in half by a piece of flying metal. He fell dead in your lap!”

“Is that true?” asked Carlot, wide-eyed.

“It will take more than flying metal to keep me from my son.”

“Things have got no better,” said Orso. “If anything, they’ve got worse. We have enemies everywhere.”

“Then you need me. You need my advice. You need—”

“What