The Tiger in Winter Read online

  The softly spoken query gave the duke pause.

  “That’s a good question.”

  “Was it about the time Sirene started being disappointed in you?”

  The duke let a wry grin creep to his lips.

  “I should expect no less from a Noble Hunter of such repute. Would you make a stake of your words and drive them through my heart?” With a low chuckle, he continued, “She may well have thought so. She seriously believed herself to serve a role as an intermediary between us and the people of my domain. And I let her. There’s no point in getting angry with a woman over her little dreams. D, she was disappointed in the humans, too!”

  Moonbeams streaming through the skylight gave a white glow to the chamber’s two occupants. One cast no shadow on the floor, while the other had one but faintly.

  “What I can offer at her passing is a multitude of acts of charity for the people of my domain. Those were most certainly in response to her requests. Ah, yes, you might say this upcoming survey was another of her accomplishments.”

  “I thought you were an odd Noble, but I think I’ll take that back,” D said, his voice hoarse again. “You’re a Noble right down to the marrow of your bones. I can see why Sirene would go and hire us. Seems the bandits will be on top of you soon, too. Get rid of ’em in short order so we can finish our job.”

  “It’ll be over soon. Don’t be impatient.”

  “Good enough, then.”

  And leaving him with those hoarse words, D exited the room.

  Shyna was standing against the wall in a long corridor. Moonbeams falling from the high windows gave her a stark glow as if she were picked out by a spotlight.

  Saying nothing, D walked right past her. He had no interest in her except as his guide.

  “What did his grace have to say?” Shyna called out to him.

  The moonlight trembled. A clearly defined shadow fell at her feet. The shadow of an android.

  D halted.

  “Does it interest you?”

  Shyna didn’t know what to say.

  “Seems like you’ve been infected with a heap of human emotion, too,” the hoarse voice continued. “Just like the duke. Compassion doesn’t suit the Nobility.”

  “If his grace should perish, we shall be destroyed as well.”

  “The rest of you will live. Even without the Nobility, you could use the infinite energy of the castle. After the humans and Nobles are gone, it might be your kind that rules the world.”

  “We would never wish for such a thing,” Shyna replied with a faint shake of her head. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me? I wish to take a walk in the garden.”

  Something astonishing happened. D gave his consent.

  The stands of trees sent a verdant perfume to the very edge of the stone-paved path, and the nocturnal flowers had all opened their buds. The flower of choice in the Nobility’s gardens was the rose, of course, and the duke’s garden was no exception. Modified to be nocturnally blooming, they were commonly known as “night roses.” Glowing in white, red, blue, and even the black of night, they lay waiting for the man and woman who came.

  “The place’s been well cared for. He doesn’t really seem like the type,” the hoarse voice remarked.

  “A century ago, the castle had no plant life other than the odd stand of trees. It was the Lady Sirene who put greenery and flowers everywhere.”

  “Who takes care of it all?”

  “We ladies-in-waiting and the gardeners see to it.”

  “The gardeners alone aren’t enough?”

  “I’m not entirely certain about that.”

  When they came to an illuminated fountain where the water spread in silken fans, Shyna halted.

  They were right below a cherry tree that towered at the southern end of the castle. From the first floor all the way to the top of the castle there was row upon row of windows, and on the highest level—the seventh—a light burned in one.

  “That is his grace’s room.” Bowing to D, Shyna then looked up and said, “Listen, if you will.”

  It had already reached D’s ears. A melody strummed on strings. The jewel-like sounds the player’s fingers produced slipped out the window and scattered in the wind, with no more than mere scraps reaching those on the ground, yet his audience of two stood listening as if turned to stone.

  “Such a sad sound,” Shyna said, seeming to gnaw at the words.

  “Is it the duke?”

  “Yes. He plays quite well.”

  “Has he always?”

  “No, just since a century ago.”

  “That again?” D said, a flame dancing in his eyes.

  How had the woman who’d come a century ago managed to change the Nobleman?

  “Lady Sirene has passed away, hasn’t she?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s why.”

  Shyna didn’t actually say who the melody was intended for, and D preserved the silence. For they and the moonlight were attending the smallest of funerals.

  D’s right hand flashed out. Suddenly, an iron arrow appeared in his fist.

  “Stay here,” he said.

  D started walking in the direction the arrow had come. It was a stand of trees off the path. As soon as he reached it, a second shot whistled through the air. With a mellifluous sound, D used the arrow in his grip to deflect the other.

  Black raiment sailed through the moonlight. Dodging a third shot in midair, D swung around his right hand at the same time. A hundred feet to the northeast, there was a cry of surprise and the sound of air escaping someone’s lungs. As soon as the Hunter came back to earth, he raced forward, the wind swirling in his wake.

  Two figures stood on the grass surrounded by trees and roses. As D came through the trees, the one on the left collapsed into a tangle of shadows. A black arrow had pierced the figure’s throat.

  “You must forgive us for the rude manner in which we’ve summoned you,” said the remaining shadowy figure.

  “One’s dead already,” D replied. His hands had naturally drifted down by his sides. It was almost as if he hadn’t just slain one of his attackers. If you were to close your eyes, you could feel the darkness spreading from his location. “Let’s have your name,” he said.

  “Gilshark. I lead the rebel army.”

  “Around noon today, thirty or so villagers were injured instead of a Noble. An infant lost his head.”

  “That went against my orders,” Gilshark replied. “The man with the missile launcher got impatient. But I bear responsibility for leaving him with the missiles. And someday I’ll pay for it.”

  “And you’ve got another dead here.”

  “He was the one who fired the missile. And he was here at his own request. He knew what the price would be to see what you could do up close.”

  “Dying by my hand doesn’t repay anything. It’s the duke who footed the bill for your stupidity.”

  “You have my sincerest apologies. I intend to do all that we can for that village and the bereaved families.”

  “There’s no point in apologizing to me. Whether it’s true or not, you should resign as their leader. You’re not cut out for it.”

  “I’m grooming a replacement. I’m sure they’ll all have forgotten what I even looked like soon enough.”

  There was a stark flash over his head. D had drawn and struck in a single motion, his sword arcing the shortest possible distance to come down at the head of the shadowy figure.

  The stark streak was repelled by a pale blue light.

  III

  “Sorry, but I can’t die just yet,” Gilshark said, rubbing the back of his head. He had a force field up.

  There was a faint sound.

  “No, it can’t be—?!” the shadowy figure exclaimed as he leaped, coming back to earth a good ten feet away. Out in the moonlight.

  His head was wrapped in yellow cloth, his face was stern, with heavy eyebrows and thin lips, and his narrow eyes were invested with a fierce will. His clothe
s consisted of a wrinkled coat and trousers—and somewhere under them he must’ve concealed the force field projector.

  “Hear that? My force field’s screaming. If I don’t turn up the juice, you’ll cut right through it. And it’s already set high enough to make heavy machine gun fire bounce off it. You really are as special as we thought, aren’t you?”

  “If you have no business with me, we’ll do this another time,” D said, his blade already back in its sheath.

  “Oh, so you read me right?” Gilshark replied, eyes sparkling. “I’d planned on seeing what you could do before making you an offer, but now I really, really need you to say yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Huh?” Gilshark said, furrowing his brow as he watched D squeeze his left hand into a fist. For the man had heard a hoarse voice. “I understand you’re here for Van Doren. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re running around with him. He hire you or something?”

  “Nope,” D replied in his own voice.

  “Good. I don’t know your circumstances, but you’re going to get rid of him at some point, aren’t you?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Really? Well, that’s a big help—at least, that’s what I’d usually tell you, but could I get you to walk away from this one?”

  “Oh my,” said the hoarse voice.

  “Why?” asked D.

  “Don’t ask. Please, just do it.”

  “No,” D said, his reply as short and sweet as always. “Once I’ve slain the duke, I leave and that’s the end of this.”

  “If you win, that’s it for you. Therein lies my problem. If we don’t finish him ourselves, we’ll never get the people behind us.” His face was stern, his lips pressed together tightly.

  “In that case, go ahead of me. When I hired on, it was to take care of the duke after he was done getting rid of all of you.”

  “Is that a fact?” Gilshark said, his face going slack. “That’s a big help.” He let out a sigh. Even shielded by an invisible wall, he’d felt as if the brawny arms of tension had him in their crushing grip. “Then I’ll be going. When we attack him, stick by his side. We won’t be in touch.”

  D’s left hand rose from the wrist up. It was unclear whether that was supposed to be a wave good bye or a bow.

  Just as Gilshark turned around, giants in silvery white landed all around him. A rumble went through the ground, and the pavement buckled. Ten feet tall, they were covered in armor. On their hips they wore longswords, while their hands gripped spears. Both weapons were of extraordinary size.

  This was one of the things Nobles liked—giant soldiers. Beneath the armor were artificial life-forms or androids, generally seventy percent being the former and the remaining thirty the latter.

  In the face of four spearheads, the leader of the rebel army looked like a scared little rabbit.

  “Well, now, is he gonna show us what he can do?” the hoarse voice said with apparent relish. “What’ll the rebels do if they lose their boss here? Or could it be—”

  Gilshark raised his hands. It was a sign of surrender.

  It was as the giant directly in front of him stepped off to one side to steer the intruder toward the castle that the resistance came. Gilshark grabbed the head of the giant’s spear and shoved it off to the right. It moved easily enough.

  Undoubtedly the man had taken into account the time it took the spear to become a particle cannon. Crimson particles of light struck his target. Which happened to be the giant to Gilshark’s right.

  Before his foe’s form could be enveloped by crimson flames, Gilshark jerked free the spear he still held. The giant’s arms were still attached to it. Blue fluid gushed from the wounds on the giant’s shoulders, spattering the cobblestones. The giant was an artificial life-form.

  Beams of blistering heat took Gilshark from the left and the rear. A crimson hemisphere formed, the path melted, and the grass started to disappear. Even the giant before him vanished into it.

  Suddenly, the sphere had bounced back. From within it, a black sphere appeared. The instant it came into contact with the two giant soldiers, their bodies quickly twisted and were compacted. It wasn’t all that different from the way fish might be crushed by the pressure at the bottom of the sea.

  “They’re crumpling up,” the hoarse voice murmured beyond what remained of the blazing hemisphere. “It’s a gravity-based force field. Your sword would be reduced to atoms the instant it touched it. The rebel army is just full of surprises.”

  By the time it’d finished saying that, there was no trace left of the two giants.

  “I’m off, I guess. I’ll be seeing you after we’ve gotten rid of the duke,” said the man. “Try not to get caught in the crossfire.”

  Turning once again, Gilshark ran down the path across the grass.

  “Humans got some scary characters, too. You’ve gotta be more than human to use the Nobility’s weapons that well—hey?!” the hoarse voice said, its tone becoming suspicious. “What are you thinking about?”

  There was no answer from D, of course, but instead Shyna and some guards raced over. A particularly stout giant looked at D, then twisted his lips into a wry grin.

  “It seems we now face the possibility that you’re in league with the rebel army.” These words, dripping with malevolence and delight, came from General Kiniski.

  After hearing what D had to say, the duke grunted and nodded his head. His form was more brimming with power than it’d been by midday.

  “Does that story fit, General?”

  “I think it’s been well fabricated,” the soldier said, still standing perfectly still at attention. “Even if everything we’ve heard up until now is correct, no one knows exactly what happened after he met with the rebel leader. If the rebel army’s hired him to assassinate you—”

  He broke off there. Even the guards that’d accompanied him didn’t understand what had happened, but they instinctively reached for the swords on their hips.

  A steely blade was pressed against the general’s throat.

  “I’ve already taken that job. From a woman you know,” said D.

  “It is as he says, Jelmin. Do you understand me?” the duke said, folding his hands together and looking at D. “From your track record, I know you’re not the kind of man to take two contracts on the same target. If the general has a flaw, it’s that he’s too devoted to duty. Please pardon him.”

  “You clear on that?” the hoarse voice inquired.

  The general nodded.

  “Then it’s settled. Okay, back to your roosts, everyone,” the duke said with a wave of his right hand, and all save D did as he’d commanded. “And why do you not go?” the duke said, going over to a cabinet, taking out a golden cup and decanter, and pouring a drink on the spot. “Pardon me,” he remarked, downing it in a single swig. In less than three seconds he’d drained about half a quart from it.

  “You call that drinking?”

  “Oh, no one’s ever spoken to me like that,” the duke said with a grin as he fought back a belch.

  “Everybody plays the good little kiss-ass and pretends to share your interests, right? Maybe they say it’s for your own good. Or maybe it isn’t your grace they protect—but their own necks.”

  “Exactly,” the duke snorted. “But I think I will test whether you truly speak from the heart.”

  He took the same cup and filled it well—actually, emptying the rest of the decanter’s contents into it—before offering it to D.

  D took it without a word and brought it to his lips.

  “Hey,” the hoarse voice groaned, but by that time the Hunter had already finished drinking it.

  “My,” the Nobleman said, peering at the cup the Hunter had returned to him. “Most impressive. It seems I’ve found a pleasant drinking companion. Will you join me for another?”

  “I believe I’ll pass,” D replied, and then he suddenly asked, “Have you hardened your defenses?”

  “You mean because o
f that character who got in here earlier? All the force fields in my domain are down. And have been for the last century.”

  Nothing from the Hunter.

  Taking a fresh decanter from the shelf, the duke poured another drink.

  “That was like living in a bird cage, and I never did care for it. And, to be honest, it was a relief to stop.”

  “And what about the general?”

  Kiniski must’ve been livid.

  “I think he was basically of the same mind that I was. He agreed to it, grumbling some rationalization about how being shielded by invisible walls didn’t suit a military man. Before he became a general, he was quite the drinker, but since he started answering to me, he hasn’t had a drop. At least that is what he tells me, and I take him at his word.”

  And then the Noble drained his cup.

  D asked, “Do you want to be destroyed?”

  Slowly lowering his cup, the duke said, “What?”

  D didn’t reply.

  “D, I don’t really understand this thing called life. Not even now, as I approach its end after more than ten millennia of living. We are immortal. So long as no one puts a stake through our hearts, we can live forever. But what is the point of that? D, I have never seen a Noble crying over life.”

  He tilted the cup against his lips. When it came away again, he continued, “And yet, that farmer’s wife today blamed me for the death of her child, wailing about his head or some such business. Is a finite existence really so important? Surely you must know.”

  “Did you ever ask Sirene?”

  “Of course so. However—she only said she didn’t know. She told me that now she was just like me.”

  “Did that make her happy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The duke took another drink.

  D quietly headed for the door. And the duke didn’t stop him.

  Once he’d stepped out into the corridor, the hoarse voice said, “This clown—he’s worn a father’s face, right? All three of his sons have up and disappeared, haven’t they? That sort of piques my interest now.”

  There was no reply. D walked on in silence, and didn’t stop until he was back at his own room.