âOh, he is, is he? Well, letâs strip him, then, and see what else heâs carrying.â
They didnât just peel Ulric Skakkiâs clothes off him. They examined him much more intimately than Hamnet Thyssen would have cared to be searched. And they found a couple of sharp-edged throwing disks that could double as armlets, as well as a long, sturdy pinâall objects that escaped the notice of the usual search spell.
By the scars that seamed Ulric Skakkiâs arms and legs and torso, heâd done more fighting than Count Hamnet would have guessed. By the nasty smile on his face, the guards hadnât found everything. To him, that seemed more important than standing there naked and shivering in the hallway.
That nasty smile goaded Sigvat IIâs attendants, as no doubt it was meant to do. At last, in a seam of Ulric Skakkiâs jacket, they found a nasty little saw-edged blade. âAll right, now youâve got all of it,â Ulric Skakki said. âCan I have my clothes back? Itâs bloody cold.â
âGet dressed,â the chief guardsman said. âIf it was up to me â¦â He
didnât say exactly what would happen then. Whatever it was, Count Hamnet didnât think he would want it to happen to him.
Ulric Skakki dressed without another word. If heâd told the attendants and the wizard they should have done a better job of protecting the Emperor, they would have found ways to make himâand, incidentally, Count Hamnet Thyssenâsorry for it. As things were, he projected an air of silent reproach that also had to set their teeth on edge.
âCome with me,â one of the attendants said when Ulric had his clothes on again.
On they went. The maze of corridors and passageways inside the palace was nearly as confusing as the maze of streets and lanes and alleys outside. Though Count Hamnet had not come here for years, he found his bump of direction still worked. âThis isnât the way to the throne room,â he said sharply.
âNo, itâs not, your Grace,â the attendant agreed. âBut it is the way to his Majestyâs private chambers.â
âOh,â Count Hamnet said, startled. In all the years heâd come to the palace, heâd been to the Emperorâs private chambers only once or twice. âCan you tell me what this is about?â he asked. Whatever it was, it bore even more weight than heâd thought when the order calling him away from his castle arrived.
The attendant shook his head. âWhatever it is, his Majesty will tell you what you need to know.â
Hamnet muttered as he tramped along. He had always been a man for whom the Emperorâs word was the be-all and end-all in life. Now he found himself dissatisfied with having to wait for it. A slight smile pulled up the corners of Ulric Skakkiâs mouth, almost, it seemed, in spite of themselves. Hamnet scowled at him, thinking, So you know that about me, do you?
Ulric Skakki looked back blandly, the little smile still on his face, as if to say, Well, what if I do? Hamnet trudged ahead. He didnât like other people understanding him so well, being able to think along with him. Gudrid had taught him the hard way how dangerous that could be.
Not that he was in any great danger of falling in love with Ulric Skakki. The first thing you had to do around Ulric was keep your hands in your pockets, or else theyâd get picked. And how could you love anyone you couldnât trust? Gudrid had taught him the folly of that, too. By comparison, Ulricâs being of the wrong gender seemed a thing of little weight.
A palace servitor fed more charcoal into a brazier. Braziers and fireplaces
scattered through the enormous building heated it ⦠somewhat. Hamnet hadnât walked five paces past this brazier before a frigid breeze slithered down the back of his neck. Maybe that was just as well. In places sealed too tightly against the
They didnât just peel Ulric Skakkiâs clothes off him. They examined him much more intimately than Hamnet Thyssen would have cared to be searched. And they found a couple of sharp-edged throwing disks that could double as armlets, as well as a long, sturdy pinâall objects that escaped the notice of the usual search spell.
By the scars that seamed Ulric Skakkiâs arms and legs and torso, heâd done more fighting than Count Hamnet would have guessed. By the nasty smile on his face, the guards hadnât found everything. To him, that seemed more important than standing there naked and shivering in the hallway.
That nasty smile goaded Sigvat IIâs attendants, as no doubt it was meant to do. At last, in a seam of Ulric Skakkiâs jacket, they found a nasty little saw-edged blade. âAll right, now youâve got all of it,â Ulric Skakki said. âCan I have my clothes back? Itâs bloody cold.â
âGet dressed,â the chief guardsman said. âIf it was up to me â¦â He
didnât say exactly what would happen then. Whatever it was, Count Hamnet didnât think he would want it to happen to him.
Ulric Skakki dressed without another word. If heâd told the attendants and the wizard they should have done a better job of protecting the Emperor, they would have found ways to make himâand, incidentally, Count Hamnet Thyssenâsorry for it. As things were, he projected an air of silent reproach that also had to set their teeth on edge.
âCome with me,â one of the attendants said when Ulric had his clothes on again.
On they went. The maze of corridors and passageways inside the palace was nearly as confusing as the maze of streets and lanes and alleys outside. Though Count Hamnet had not come here for years, he found his bump of direction still worked. âThis isnât the way to the throne room,â he said sharply.
âNo, itâs not, your Grace,â the attendant agreed. âBut it is the way to his Majestyâs private chambers.â
âOh,â Count Hamnet said, startled. In all the years heâd come to the palace, heâd been to the Emperorâs private chambers only once or twice. âCan you tell me what this is about?â he asked. Whatever it was, it bore even more weight than heâd thought when the order calling him away from his castle arrived.
The attendant shook his head. âWhatever it is, his Majesty will tell you what you need to know.â
Hamnet muttered as he tramped along. He had always been a man for whom the Emperorâs word was the be-all and end-all in life. Now he found himself dissatisfied with having to wait for it. A slight smile pulled up the corners of Ulric Skakkiâs mouth, almost, it seemed, in spite of themselves. Hamnet scowled at him, thinking, So you know that about me, do you?
Ulric Skakki looked back blandly, the little smile still on his face, as if to say, Well, what if I do? Hamnet trudged ahead. He didnât like other people understanding him so well, being able to think along with him. Gudrid had taught him the hard way how dangerous that could be.
Not that he was in any great danger of falling in love with Ulric Skakki. The first thing you had to do around Ulric was keep your hands in your pockets, or else theyâd get picked. And how could you love anyone you couldnât trust? Gudrid had taught him the folly of that, too. By comparison, Ulricâs being of the wrong gender seemed a thing of little weight.
A palace servitor fed more charcoal into a brazier. Braziers and fireplaces
scattered through the enormous building heated it ⦠somewhat. Hamnet hadnât walked five paces past this brazier before a frigid breeze slithered down the back of his neck. Maybe that was just as well. In places sealed too tightly against the
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