Out of the Darkness

“You’re impossible,” Skarnu said, at which Valnu bowed in delight. Even Merkela snorted at that. With a sigh, Skarnu went on, “I hope you are. All things considered, I’d not have the family dragged through too much dirt.”

“You’re no fun at all,” Valnu said. “I know what your problem is, though-- I know just the disease you’ve caught.”

“Tell me,” Skarnu said, raising an eyebrow. “What sort of slander will you come up with? If it’s vile enough, I’ll haul you before the king.”

“It’s pretty vile, all right,” Valnu said. “You poor fellow, you’ve caught. . . responsibility. It’s very dangerous unless you treat it promptly. I came down with it myself for a while, but I seem to have thrown it off.”

“I believe that,” Skarnu said. But he couldn’t stay too annoyed with Valnu. No matter how much fun the viscount had had here in Priekule during the occupation, he’d played a hard and dangerous game. Had the Algarvians realized he was anything more than a vacuous good-time boy, he would have suffered the same nasty fate as had so many men--and women--from the underground.

No sooner had that thought crossed Skarnu’s mind than Valnu said, “You know, it’s possible you’re being too hard on your poor sister.”

“And it’s possible we’re not, too,” Merkela snapped before Skarnu could answer. “That cursed redhead was hard whenever he was alone with her, wasn’t he?”

“Lurcanio? No doubt he was,” Valnu replied. The bow he gave Merkela was distinctly mocking. “And you’re learning cattiness fast. You’ll make a splendid noblewoman, no doubt about it.” He grinned. She spluttered. He went on, “But I still mean what I said. Krasta held my life in the hollow of her hand. She knew what I was, knew without the tiniest fragment of doubt after the late, unlamented Count Amatu met his untimely demise after dining at her mansion. Yet even if she did know, neither Lurcanio nor any of the other redheads learned of it from her. More: she helped make them believe I was harmless. So I beg both of you, do have such patience with her as you can.”

He sounded unwontedly serious. Merkela’s eyes blazed. Getting her to change her mind once she’d made it up was always hard. Skarnu said, “We have a while to think about it. Her baby’s not due for another couple of months. If it looks like you--”

“It will be the handsomest--or loveliest, depending--child ever born,” Valnu broke in.

“If it’s a little sandy-haired bastard, though ...” Merkela’s voice was as cold as the winter winds that blew up from the land of the Ice People.

“Even then,” Valnu said. “There’s a difference between going to bed with someone for love and doing it from . . . expediency, shall we say?” By his tone, he was intimately acquainted with every inch of that debatable ground.

But he didn’t persuade Merkela. “I know how far I will go,” she said. “I know how far everybody else will go, too.” She didn’t quite turn her back on Valnu, but she might as well have.

And Skarnu thought she was likely to be right. In a newly freed Valmiera where everyone was doing his best to pretend no one had ever collaborated with Mezentio’s men, bearing a half-Algarvian child would not be tolerated. The only reason Bauska had had as little trouble over Brindza as she’d had was that her bastard daughter seldom left the mansion. A servant and her child could hope to remain obscure. A marchioness? Skarnu doubted it.

“A pity,” Valnu murmured.

“How much pity did the Algarvians ever show us?” Merkela said. “How much did they show anyone of Kaunian blood? Did you ever meet any of the Kaunians from Forthweg who got away from them? You wouldn’t talk of pity if you had.”

Valnu sighed. “There is some truth in what you say, milady. Some, I have never denied it. Whether there is quite so much as you think.. .”

Merkela took a deep, angry breath. Skarnu didn’t want to see a quarrel--no, more likely a brawl--erupt. Maybe that was the disease of responsibility, as Valnu had said. Whatever it was, he had to move quickly--and delicately. Calming Merkela when her temper was high had the same potential for disaster as trying to keep an egg from bursting after its first spell somehow failed. Mistakes could have spectacularly disastrous consequences.

Here, though, he thought he had the answer. He said, “Shall we set our wedding day for about the time when Krasta’s baby is due? Whatever happens then, we’ll upstage her.”

That distracted Merkela, as he’d hoped. She nodded and said, “Aye, why not?” But she wasn’t completely distracted, for she added, “It will also help quiet the scandal if she does have a little redheaded bastard.”

“Maybe some,” said Skarnu, who’d hoped she wouldn’t think of that.

Merkela’s frown was thoughtful now, not angry--or not so angry. “As far as Krasta’s concerned, we shouldn’t muffle the scandal. We should shout it. As far as you’re concerned, though--”

“As far as the whole family is concerned,” Skarnu broke in. “Whoever that baby’s father is, it’s first cousin to little Gedominu, you know.”