Anderson, Poul - A Midsummer Tempest by Anderson Poul

Author:Anderson, Poul
Language: eng
Format: epub

This was the clue which led me to her guilt. Here."

He held it forth.

Baker dropped his cup into his lap. "Eeh!" he wailed. "Cast it away, that fearful thing, away!"

"I took thee for a man of courage, Nobah," Shelgrave said.

The divine flushed. "Forgive. It was a nasty, swift surprise, like clasping of a well-known hand to find that suddenly the fingers are all snakes." He stood—the cup smashed—pointed at the ring, and intoned, "Thou forging of Beelzebub, beware! Let heaven's levin blast thee in its wrath!"

Drip, drip said the coffee from his breeches.

"Prithee, peace." Shelgrave put the ring aside, gripped his guest's shoulders, eased him back into a chair, stood above him, and spoke rapidly, reassuringly: "See here. We're men of practicalities, thou and I, as well as pieties; we know what part of both our work and our reward lies in this world. If God Himself, as I say, did use that unholy object to reveal unto me the extent of sin and guile—as the golden calf showed Moses how our ancestors had fallen—why, is't not a sign of His? Does He not mean for us to use this maggot out of the Devil's flesh to gnaw the under-devil Rupert?"

Barker squinted a long while up at him before answering, "Thou hast a plan. I know thee, Malachi."

"That I do, and thou'rt at the core. Listen. When sad, misguided Jennifer wears the ring, 'twill al-ways light and guide her whithersoever best serves the enemy's fell purpose—or would, were she trav-eling freely.

I've studied magic, as one must study a disease to find the cure. It has a blind, mechanic quality; in itself, it no more distinguishes friend from foe than does a loaded cannon.

"Well, then. Does it not stand to reason, both rings will point at the same goal? Let her follow hers, and Rupert follow his—both ought to show plain signs, after their wearers have reached the Midworld Sea—why, inevitably as moths to a can-dle flame, those two will be brought to a meeting point. Now if she's under the guard of trustworthy fighting men—bearing in mind Rupert's a fugitive, who at most has one or two desperadoes at heel—"

"But Rupert is of royal blood as well," Barker objected. "He'll first to Holland, and fetch many friends."

"I've thought on that, and doubt it," Shelgrave said. "He may indeed go there for some funds, though that's an impoverished court of exiles which his mother maintains. However, the Dutch are mostly Calvinists, who'd recoil in horror, aye, ar-rest him, did he reveal what his mission really is. And he'd not spend time trying covertly to gather a troop who would go along. Remember, not only is he himself impetuous, his King Charles cannot hold out for many more weeks unaided. Therefore, he'll sacrifice recruitment for the sake of haste— and, as I say, come to his destination with no following worthy of mention. Oh, I could be mistaken. Those who go after him should proceed with care. But I feel sure they'll find that a small, determined band can take him.

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