Even in the Cannon's Mouth by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Author:Adrian Tchaikovsky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Abaddon Books

AFTER ORSINO HAD retired, Don John found he could no longer even feign joy in Sir Toby’s sodden company. For once, just once, he had been on the cusp of ridding the world of his brother and finding his way to the throne of Aragon, that dream which fortune had constantly dangled before him, yet never dropped in his lap.

He left the table, slipping out past the prodigious bulge of Sir Toby’s gut, and stalked off into the garrison, seeking to be alone with his dark thoughts.

To be Don Pedro’s brother was to live a blighted life. What chance had he ever had, growing up in the shadow of a man so universally admired, so crammed with good qualities? How could poor John aspire to honour or nobility or goodness of any sort, when his elder sibling held such a monopoly? John had nothing but the company of villains and the ability to tell them what they wanted to hear.

And it seemed this Orsino was proof against his mendacity. Popular repute had him as a clothes-horse, ruled by his mannish wife and given to verse and dreaming. That was not the man Don John had just seen, alas. Apparently Illyria was in better hands than he had thought. Which left that much less room for John’s plots to prosper in.

He found a room far from the revelry to skulk in, and leant back against the wall, tilting his head to touch the cold, rough stones. He had not wanted to get on that doomed vessel to go speak to the Wizard-Duke of Milan. He would far rather have gnawed away at the foundations back home while his brother risked his life to the sea and the sorcerer. Don Pedro had insisted on leading the embassy to Prospero in person, as a mark of its import. The fairies, it seemed, were to stay their hands, but the armies lined up against Aragon and its allies—Illyria included—were fielding an impressive strength of magicians, astrologers and worse, not to mention the Scot and his cursed witches. If Prospero would commit Milan to the war on Aragon’s side, even just to counter all their curses and spells, the entire course of the war would be changed. Everyone in Europe knew there was none to match him.

So they had gathered together all those who might sway the ageing wizard to their cause: the entreaties of a prince, the words of a philosopher, the remedies and spells of a woman physician. And John, because Pedro would not trust him to remain behind.

And if you had ever trusted me, brother, I might not be your enemy. But John was honest enough with himself to know that sentiment as sophistry. He was not a man to be satisfied with life in another’s shadow.

As he slouched there, discontent and brooding, he heard a faint murmur, conveyed to him more through the stone than through his ears. He had burrowed deep into the back rooms of the garrison to find his solitude, and all the servants were out slaking the thirsts of their master and his cup-fellows.

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