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His visitor nodded neutrally, but even as he did, he made a mental note to reevaluate all of the plans he and the baron had hatched together. Cu
“At the same time,” the baron continued, “I recognize that his imprimatur grants this Bahzell and this Kaeritha a certain legitimacy. Fortunately, Wencit himself has already left the Wind Plain. Apparently, he believes he’s accomplished whatever goal brought him here in the first place, which may well be true. But what matters for our purposes is that he’s no longer here to continue to support their ridiculous claims … or to protect them.”
“Assuming they require his protection,” the other man observed.
“Oh,” the baron said unpleasantly, “I think you can rely upon it that they’ll require all the protection they can get before too very much longer. I have quite a few little diversions pla
“I see.” The other man nodded again, then stretched and walked slowly across to a chair which faced the baron’s desk. He settled into it and crossed his legs, and his mind was busy behind his bland eyes.
Obviously, the baron had plans even he hadn’t yet discovered. Well, that had been a given from the outset. Whatever his other flaws, the baron was an experienced and skillful conspirator, and the nondescript man had taken it for granted from the begi
But all of this secrecy and skulking about, however entertaining and profitable it might be, did lead to the occasional moment of uncertainty. For example, what sort of deviltry did the baron have in mind for Bahzell and Kaeritha? And did he began to suspect the deviltry the nondescript man and his other … associates had in mind for the two of them? More to the point, would the baron’s plans get in the way of the nondescript man’s?
He considered the delightfully different possibility of simply asking the baron straightforwardly what he intended, but he was afraid the shock might do his host’s health a mischief. Besides, if he asked the baron that, the baron might ask him the same question, and that could lead to all sorts of complications. The nondescript man was confident that the baron was every bit as ambitious and ruthless as he could have hoped, but there were probably limits to the actions and allies he was prepared to contemplate, even so. Given how hard he was working at maintaining his technical ignorance about the nondescript man’s own abilities, it seemed safe enough to assume he would definitely balk at direct, knowing association with black wizardry and Dark Gods. For that matter, it was even possible (however unlikely) that if the baron discovered the nondescript man’s full intentions and plans he might actually choose to place the well-being of the Kingdom above his own power and position.
“I suppose, since you’ve obviously already made arrangements to keep both of them occupied, that you’re aware Prince Yurokhas seems close to convincing the King to grant official ambassadorial status to Prince Bahzell?”
“I know the Prince would like to convince the King to do so,” the baron replied a bit cautiously. “According to my own sources, however, the King remains resistant. And, I should add, that’s also been my own observation as a member of his Council.”
“The King does remain resistant … so far,” the other man agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to grant it, Milord. As you must know even better than I, Markhos is skilled at keeping his own council and avoiding any open appearance of commitment until after he’s made up his mind to act.”
“That’s certainly true enough,” the baron agreed sourly. “He learned that from his father. Fortunately, however, and with all due respect for the Crown, he’s not as intelligent, in some ways, as his younger brother.” The baron snorted. “Yurokhas may have a big enough maggot in his brain where religion is concerned to accept that this Bahzell might really be a champion of Tomanak, but aside from that, he’s a dangerous man. We’re fortunate so much of his time is taken up with the Order of Tomanak in Sothofalas. If it wasn’t, he’d have even more opportunity to lead the King into dangerously foolish policy decisions.”
“I thought you just said the Prince was intelligent,” the other man said, more to poke the baron with a sharp stick than because he disagreed. A slight gleam in the baron’s eye suggested that he understood exactly why the question had been asked, but he chose to answer it anyway.
“He is intelligent. Unfortunately, even intelligent people can be wrong, especially when something like religious belief begins to interfere with the pragmatic requirements of governing a kingdom. And when that happens, the more intelligent the believer is, the more damage he can do before someone else stops him. That’s why Yurokhas is dangerous. He’s not only smarter than the King, unfortunately, but the King knows he is, which is even more dangerous. Markhos doesn’t always agree with Yurokhas, and he’s quite capable of rejecting his brother’s advice. But he doesn’t do it out of hand, and it doesn’t keep him from trusting Yurokhas and regarding the Prince as his closest, most reliable adviser.”
“I see,” the little man said again, and nodded. “Actually, Milord, that agrees very closely with my own analysis. Which leads to another perhaps delicate question.” He paused until the baron raised his eyebrows politely, then shrugged. “I’m curious, Milord. Have you, by any chance, considered … removing Yurokhas from the equation?”
“I am prepared to do many things in the service of the Kingdom and its best interests,” the baron said in a cold, flat voice. “Yet the King is the heart and soul of the Kingdom. It is his person which unites us, and without that unity, we would disintegrate once more into the patchwork of squabbling, warring factions we had become in his grandfather’s day. Because of that, his person must be sacrosanct, whatever I may think of his policies of the moment, under any but the most desperate of imaginable circumstances. At present, Prince Yurokhas stands only fifth in the succession, after the King’s sons, yet the blood in his veins is the same as that in the veins of King Markhos himself. Mistaken and dangerous though I believe him to be, I will not see it spilled unless there is no other possible way to save the Kingdom.”
“I see,” the nondescript man said yet again. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers across his chest, and gazed steadily at the baron. How much of that, he wondered, was actually sincere? And how much of it is no more than so much rationalization? Protection not of the all-unifying King or his precious person but of the system and hierarchy which grants the good Baron his own power base?
Not that it really mattered. He’d been told what he needed to know. Always assuming the baron had told him the truth.
“Very well, Milord,” he said finally. “I think we’ve each given the other enough to chew on for the moment. I’ll keep you informed of anything my sources turn up about Festian, Tellian, and the rest. For now, Lord Saratic and his people will keep the pressure on all of them, I feel certain.”