Mary Gentle Read Online Free

slackened his face. And this is the man who is in charge of security inside the Duc’s household, as I am outside.
    The man who held Maignan’s left arm pulled out his dagger, yanked it across Maignan’s throat, and dropped him.
    I was moving before his blade left the scabbard, but plainly it was expected that I should do so. With no necessity for an order, the other men present hauled out swords, cocked pistols. I was at the centre of a ring of edged steel, every point within a yard of my face.
    I am not a fool; not against ten men armed with rapiers and firearms. Furious, I slammed to a halt, knocking against the long table. Tapers overturned and began to stink, burning the rushes. The scent of slow-match drifted on the filthy air, catching in the back of my throat with the odour of blood. When I could see again—one of the men lit a candle too expensive to be purchased in this inn—the stone floor and rubbish in front of me was flooded black, and Maignan dead or dying, his artery cut through.
    “Sweet Jesu!” Shock stripped me momentarily of control: I sounded ragged with outrage. “I’ll have even you arrested; the Duc will back me!”
    “The Duc will not matter by sunset tomorrow.”
    One of the other men reached down and grabbed Maignan by his ankle, dragging him across the stone flags towards the door. The body left a sodden trail. I saw, in the dim light, that Maignan wore soft silk slippers on his feet, such as a man does not wear in the street.
    The woman’s voice came fussy, and foolish, and entirely certain. “This is to demonstrate. We have successfully planted a spy in the Duc’s household. It can as easily be Sully who lies bleeding and dead. You must do what we say, Rochefort. Who else have you but him, between you and your enemies?”
    I stared, blank-faced as shock makes me; determined to give nothing away. Once I am out of this room I will turn Sully’s household up top and bottom and execute the Medici spy .
    “If you go back to the Arsenal tonight,” the middle-aged woman went on huskily, “Sully will be killed. If you go anywhere near the Duc, he will be killed. If you send messages to him, he dies. You will not go back to his household now; you will make no contact with him until after Henri is dead.”
    The feeling of sick catastrophe in my stomach became submerged by anger. I am to be manipulated by threats to the Duc; I am to be compelled and blackmailed?
    “You will be watched, Rochefort. Every moment. If it seems that you speak to any man you should not, then Sully will be killed, inside his house where he thinks he is most safe. You will not find another master,” she added. “I will see to it that your enemies have you.”
    I almost laughed out loud. Am I supposed also too stupid to see she must kill me, afterwards, as a witness to this? Who do they think they have , here?
    I lost control, swearing, momentarily—but that might be all to the good; she would take it as a craven reaction. Thinking quickly, I gave her a silent look into which a man might read hesitation and apprehension. “He is the King.”
    I deliberately did not say my King .
    A dead man is a great convincer in arguments; she might believe me intimidated by Maignan’s murder, or subject to some mixture of self-interest and cowardice. It was not important what she thought, only that she be sure enough of me to send me about her business.
    Once I am out, I can warn the Duke. Or kill the traitor in his house myself.
    She spoke again. I strained to hear her under the noise of distant drinking and quarreling in other rooms.
    “If it is Sully who dies, you will get the blame for it. Speak to no man.”
    Her men were too close. I doubted I could kill her before they brought me down, even if I could allow myself that self-indulgence.
    Hoping that I imitated a man who was both cowed and desperate, I said, “I must speak to some man, madame, or how else am I to arrange a killing!”
    “Yes. We will be watching,”