Free At the Queen's Command by Michael A. Stackpole Page B

happen here.”
    “Am I to interpret that as a threat, Colonel?”
    “I won’t insult your intelligence, Captain. Your success or failure is at my whim. You do not want to displease me.”
    Owen drew himself to attention, then saluted. “As you say, sir.”
    “Very well.” Langford crossed the foyer. A liveried servant in a wig bowed and then opened the door to the assembly room at the heart of Government House. That central room ran to the back of the building and was as wide as it was deep. Wooden pillars split it into thirds. Desks and chairs had been moved to the walls, but marks on the floor showed where they normally were arrayed as if for a parliament. Owen guessed that a regional legislature likely used the chamber when the Prince was not in residence.
    A throne had been centered toward the back and as they approached, Owen barely recognized the man seated in it. The Prince had donned a full wig, with the curled locks falling past his shoulder both front and back. His blue jacket and gold breeches shimmered brightly—the hallmark of their having been woven from wurmsilk. The jacket facings glowed with burnished red wurmleather, and the black buckles on his matching shoes had been carved from wurmscales.
    Colonel Langford stopped four paces shy of the throne and bowed. Owen, a step behind him, followed suit. He then retreated to the right, leaving Langford alone before the Prince.
    The three of them were by no means the only people in the room. Not only had some people preceded them, but more entered in their wake. They lined up as if the center of the room had an invisible carpet on which they were afraid to tread. Most reminded him of Dr. Frost—well-dressed in clothes stylishly fashioned from homespun wool and linen. The colors perforce ran to blacks and browns since indigo and other brighter hues had to be imported, but here and there a kerchief or vest lent a splash of color.
    Down toward the end, barely inside the doors, stood men who looked quite ill at ease. They wore buckskins, with fringes on the sleeves and down the side seams of the trousers. Beadwork decorated some of the clothes, but most showed only stains on thighs, shins, and at the sleeve-cuffs. These men had a rough, unkempt nature and their shifting postures betrayed an uneasiness with their surroundings.
    Prince Vlad raised a hand and the porter closed the doors. “Colonel Langford, so good of you to respond to our request so quickly. We trust we drew you away from nothing vital?”
    Langford smiled unctuously. “The Queen’s work is never done, Highness, but any service I can render you is always paramount.”
    “And you, Captain Strake, you were not inconvenienced by this request?”
    “No, Highness.” Owen shivered at the remote and imperious tone in the Prince’s voice—so unlike how he had sounded the day before.
    “Colonel, I am given to understand that you have retained Rufus Branch to guide Captain Strake.”
    “I have, sir. His knowledge of the area is unparalleled.”
    “Is it?” Prince Vlad frowned. “We should have thought Nathaniel Woods had traveled more extensively, especially in the area where Captain Strake’s orders require him to explore.”
    Langford bowed his head. “Of course, Highness. I should have said Mr. Branch’s knowledge is unparalleled among available guides.”
    The Prince clapped his hands. “Well, then, Colonel, we have excellent news for you. Mr. Woods is available for this assignment. He will arrive presently, so you will tell your… why, look, he is with us. Mr. Branch, you and your men will not be required. You’re free to go.”
    The ruffians at the far end of the room appeared quite surprised, but Langford’s rising voice cut off the dull roar of their conversation. “Highness, you cannot dismiss them.”
    “Did we hear you correctly, Colonel? We cannot dismiss them?”
    “Yes, Highness. They have a contract to provide services. It would be great hardship for them if it were to