Christopher Bunn - The Wicked Day (The Tormay Trilogy #3)

THE WICKED DAY

Book Three of The Tormay Trilogy

By Christopher Bunn

Copyright 2010

Copyright 2010 by Christopher Bunn.

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Smashwords Edition.

Books by Christopher Bunn

The Tormay Trilogy

The Hawk and His Boy

The Shadow at the Gate

The Wicked Day

The Model Universe and Other Stories

The Mike Murphy Files and Other Stories

For Finn and Jesse

THE WICKED DAY

CHAPTER ONE

SIBB ENCOURAGES THIEVERY

Come in, come in, said Botrell.

Owain Gawinn entered the room and eyed the regent warily. He could remember only one other time when he had seen him in such a cheerful mood. That had been when Harl Nye of Vo had died from choking on a fishbone. Nye had owned the third best stable of horses in all of Tormay. Nyes widow had sold the horses to the regent two weeks after her lords death.

Gawinn, my dear fellow. How are you?

Tolerable, said Owain.

Good, good. Glad to hear it. And hows your lovely wife and the children? Er, you do have children, dont you, Gawinn? I dont know what wed do without children. Cant stand the little rotters myself, but thats the way life is. A mans big enough to see beyond his personal likes and dislikes. Thats me.

The regent smiled and gazed into the mirror. He swiveled around and eyed himself over his shoulder.

How dyou like this cloak, Gawinn? he said. Nice, isnt it, the way it hangs. Splendid silk, just arrived from Harth. Sent courtesy of the prince as thanks for our hospitality.

I don't have an opinion on silk, my lord, said Owain coldly.

Oh, come now. We all know that boys play at soldiers only for the uniforms.

My lord?

Haha! Just a joke. You should see your face, Gawinn, you old prune. Ho there! You, boy! The regent hollered at the page standing in the anteroom. Wheres my breakfast?

Coming, my lord! And the page scuttled away.

Care for some breakfast, Gawinn?

Ive already eaten, my lord

Then eat again.

and I must return to the barracks. New recruits. Its for that reason I must speak with you. My lord, were sorely in need of

Owain was abruptly shouldered aside by a procession of pages and footmen, led by a fat man with an enormous moustache. A white silk cloth fluttered out onto the table, cutlery appeared as if by magic, a candelabra winked into flame, and three covered platters were whisked forward, each borne aloft by a different footman. The regent sat down and rubbed his hands together.

No, he said. Whatever it is, Gawinn, the answers no. There isnt a problem too great that cant be answered by a sensible, straightforward, resounding no! Living like that is refreshing. I recommend it. Are you sure you wont have a bite to eat? Ahh. What have we here, chamberlain? Smells delicious.

A quiche of quail eggs, mlord, baked with a medley of tender wild mushrooms and Vomarone ham and imbued throughout with the fragrance of freshly bruised thyme, said the chamberlain. He stroked his moustache as he spoke and beamed at everyone in the room.

You havent heard what I was going to say, said Owain.

Mmm. Quail eggs. So light and fluffy. You can almost feel the promise of their little feathers tickling the palate. Delightful.

Owain gritted his teeth. My lord, its high time we increased the ranks of the Guard. My coffers are empty, the armorys filled with old weapons, and the horses in our stable are even older.

Horses, eh? Nothing like an old horse for wisdom.

Furthermore, my lord, for the last time, I cant stress enough the urgent situation our city finds itself in.

Youre casting a blight on my breakfast, Gawinn. A pall! The regent eyed Owain sourly and then turned his attention back to the next dish as the chamberlain whisked off the cover. Whats this?

Wild boar sausage, my lord. Roasted to a delightfully juicy crisp. Flanked by fresh potatoes sliced as thin as parchment and smothered in goat cheese and mountain-grown fennel.

Hmmph. Mountain-grown fennel? A likely story. And the last dish?

The chamberlain almost swooned at this question, but he recovered enough to twitch the cover off the third dish.

Crepes, mlord, he trilled. Crepes teased into draperies as delicate as ladys lace, drenched with clover honey, stuffed with the ripest of strawberries, and fried in butter.

This news seemed to cheer the regent up. The chamberlain backed away, bowing repeatedly. Behind him, the other footmen and pages bowed as well.

As I was saying, my lord, continued Owain doggedly. Hearnes in a dire situation. Strange murders are taking place in the duchies. Whole villages slaughtered. It falls to Hearne to lead the defense of Tormay when more than one duchy is threatened by a common enemy. It falls to us, my lord.

The regent laid down his fork and glared at Owain.

What is it that you want?

Gold, my lord.

Well, you arent getting any, said the regent. And thats final. Now, get out! My crepes are getting cold!

Owain felt his face turning red. The footmen and the pages were all staring at the floor. The chamberlain smirked at Owain and twirled his moustache. The regent returned his attention to the crepes and attacked them with his knife and fork.

Outside the castle, a groom was waiting with his horse at the bottom of the steps. Owain grabbed the reins from him and swung up onto the horse.

Gawinn! Just the man I wanted to see.

It was Dreccan Gor. He hurried across the cobblestones toward Owain.

What do you want, Gor?

Ill need young Arodilac released from his duties all next week.

Why?

The duke of Vomaros paying us a visit. The regent would like his nephew to be available for the, uh, social niceties. Conversation, ladies to dance with, formal dinners, all that sort of thing.

No.

What? The fat little steward goggled up at Owain.

You heard me. Arodilac joined the Guard. A soldier he is, and hell do his duty, just like any other man. No time for prancing about in silks. Good day, Gor.

No, wait! said Dreccan, dancing to one side as Owain swung his horse around. Next week shall be important for Hearnes future. Arodilac has other duties than marching to and fro on the walls. Hes the regents nephew, for shadows sake.

The answers no. And Owain urged his horse away.

There was small comfort in the exchange, but enough to make Owain smile grimly for a moment. Botrell would hear of it soon. But that didnt matter. A Gawinn had always been the Captain of the Guard, and a Gawinn always would.

Owain idly considered why the duke of Vomaro was visiting Hearne. He had met the man oncea long time ago at one of those dreary dinners the regent was so fond of giving. An immense, fat man with a decidedly bitter wit. The dinner had not been pleasant. He had heard strange things about the court at Vomaro. Strange things that had occurred after the dukes daughter had been rescued from the ogres who had kidnapped her. Much of it was obviously nonsense. But one never knew for sure.