"Alexander, Lloyd - Westmark 02 - The Kestrel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Alexander Lloyd)

"Florian says Erzcour must be replaced If you press your chief minister to do it, he'll pay attention- He'll listen to one of his own people."

"I'm not one of his own people. Or anybody's." Luther raised his hands in mock defense- "Don't get ruffled. I didn't mean it that way."

"However you meant it, Erzcour's none of my business. I can't guess what Florian has in mind. Perhaps I don't want to. He's my friend, but I don't agree with him. He knows that. How can he ask me this kind of favor?"

"He sees it the other way round." "Florian doing the monarchy a favor? Why?" Luther shrugged. "Does it matter?" He closed the book. "Take it as a favor or whatever. Only make sure Erzcour's dismissed. Pensioned off. Anything. So long as he has no troops under him.

"The king wants to make reforms. I'll give him that much credit," Luther went on. "But some of the aristocracy and the military won't stomach them. We don't know how many are in the faction, but they're up to some kind of mischief. It's a good guess Erzcour's with them."

"You have proof?" Theo tried to stay calm. Even before he left Marianstat, there had been rumors of conspiracies, cabals, plots by disgruntled courtiers. They had, fortunately, turned out to be overblown gossip "There's evidence against him?"

"Not yet. Florian suspects-"

"Only suspects?" broke in Theo. "Luther, the king will want more than that. The law demands proof beyond question. When Cabbarus was chief minister, honest folk were ruined, even hanged, on nothing but suspicion. Augustine won't let that kind of thing happen again. Neither will any of us."

"Very admirable," returned Luther. "Do you think Erzcour and his friends will stick at fine points of law? Don't be a fool. Florian's given you a warning. Take it or not."

Theo did not answer. Something was stirring below in the public room. He heard voices raised, but not in argument or rough Joking. The tone was agitated yet subdued, an unsettling sound. Luther, too, noticed and stepped to the door, listening. He motioned Theo to stay behind and strode quickly downstairs. Theo waited a few moments, then, as the commotion went on, started after him.

Luther, returning, met Theo at the head of the stairs and drew him back into the room. "A wool dealer just up from Carisbruch. He heard it two days ago. Augustine is dead. He died last week."

Theo caught his breath. In her last letter, Mickle had mentioned only briefly that her father was ailing. That had been midwinter. If she had sent a later message, it had not reached him. He stared at Luther. Telling himself the day would come sooner or later, he had never quite believed it. "Then-Mickle's queen of Westmark."

"Long live the queen," said Luther, not unkindly, though his words had an ironic edge to them. "And the prince consort. Like it or not, you're a monarchist as much as anyone can be."

"What you said about Erzcour and the rest-do you think they had a hand in this?"

"I don't know. Kings die from time to time."

"I'm going to Marianstat." Theo started buckling his traveling case. "The landlord can let me have a fresh horse."

"Stay the night," said Luther. "No sense being on the road at this hour. Your courtiers can wait."

"The courtiers can go hang. It's Mickle I care about. I should be with her. She'll wonder why I'm not there already. I'll save a day if I leave now. Tell Florian I'll get to the bottom of this Erzcour business. If it's true, he's done Mickle a service and I thank him."

"It won't rub my conscience too raw, associating with royalty," said Luther. "I'll ride a little way with you."

"I'H go faster alone."

"Likely so. Farewell, then." He took Theo's arm. "What's the matter? You don't have the look of a gallant off to join his sweetheart, let alone a prince consort to join his queen."

"It's-nothing." He turned away, picking up his bag. "It took me by surprise."

For a young man with every prospect of happiness, he did not want to admit how alarmed he was.

Half an hour out of Mull, the horse cast a shoe. Theo reined up at the side of the road and dismounted, berating the landlord who had sworn the animal was fit, and himself for not making sure of it in spite of his haste. He pulled up his collar and muffled his face for a cold tramp back' to the inn.

The snow, at feast, had stopped. The moon had risen bright and sharp-edged. Far below, at the foot of the rocky embankment, the Caria River glinted with a film of ice. Leading his limping mount, Theo bent his head against the wind.