Read Online Swords: 09 - The Sixth Book Of Lost Swords - Mindsword's Story by Fred Saberhagen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Fred Saberhagen
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make some obeisance, something on the order of casting himself at Murat’s feet.
“Yes, of course, you are quite right. Their attitude is foolish,” the Crown Prince murmured soothingly. “But send no message for the time being.”
“As you wish, Lord.”
Murat shook his head, seeing no way at the moment for him to communicate with the Princess credibly. I am one sane man, he thought, for the moment surrounded by those who cannot see straight or think straight. So I, at least, must retain my sanity. Because it is my responsibility to think for us all. And I must decide what will be best for Kristin and her people too.
Murat raised his voice: “We will all of us march together for the time being. Lead the way to her summer retreat.” The cavalry detachment, having been prudently provisioned for a long patrol, carried food enough to feed not only themselves, but the former bandits as well, adequately for the several days it would take for the combined group to approach Princess Kristin.
Further inquiries among his newest adherents gleaned for Murat a welcome confirmation that at least Prince Mark, whose presence might have complicated things immeasurably, was, as so often, out of the country. But Mark was expected back at any time now.
From certain things that the soldiers said, certain expressions that crossed some of their faces when Mark was mentioned, the Crown Prince got the idea that they might retain a high regard for Mark as a fair Prince and a capable soldier. But these indications of regard for Kristin’s husband vanished as soon as the men learned that their new master’s attitude toward Mark was less than cordial. From now on several of the men had only black looks and dark mutterings at any mention of their former commander. These, Murat decided, were probably men who had nursed some resentment against Mark even before they caught the vibrations of Murat’s feelings toward him.
As for the Princess herself, all the troopers were glad to see and hear how highly Murat thought of her. They also continued to hold Kristin in great esteem.
Murat decided that he had learned all he needed to know for the time being.
“Let us march on,” he ordered his combined force. “Toward the Princess, in her summer retreat.”
Chapter Six
Following the surrender of the border patrol, the Crown Prince and his newly enlarged entourage enjoyed several days of almost uneventful travel. All during this time the Sword remained sheathed at Murat’s side. As they traveled he observed his followers carefully, to see how and when the Mindsword’s influence would begin to wear off—sooner or later, he knew, it probably would. And indeed, some of the men’s behavior did change with the passage of hours and days. The Crown Prince thought that within two days three or four of the bandits and some half a dozen of the troopers had begun to have second thoughts about their quick conversion. The process, unlike that of their metamorphosis into his followers, was quite gradual, manifesting itself only in solemn faces and thoughtful stares; he had no fears of a sudden betrayal.
As the enduring effects of the shock of magic continued to weaken, the undisciplined bandits grew a trifle lax in obeying Murat’s orders, and Carlo reported that some of the troopers were beginning to recall their broken oaths of fealty to Tasavalta’s Princess. No dramatic event occurred to illustrate these changes, but small signs were visible to one who watched for them as the Crown Prince did. Quietly he asked his son’s opinion on what was happening.
Carlo seemed dismayed at the thought of anyone who had once seen the light choosing to turn away from it again. He suggested that his father draw the Sword once more.
But Murat declined to do that. Instead, calling
“Yes, of course, you are quite right. Their attitude is foolish,” the Crown Prince murmured soothingly. “But send no message for the time being.”
“As you wish, Lord.”
Murat shook his head, seeing no way at the moment for him to communicate with the Princess credibly. I am one sane man, he thought, for the moment surrounded by those who cannot see straight or think straight. So I, at least, must retain my sanity. Because it is my responsibility to think for us all. And I must decide what will be best for Kristin and her people too.
Murat raised his voice: “We will all of us march together for the time being. Lead the way to her summer retreat.” The cavalry detachment, having been prudently provisioned for a long patrol, carried food enough to feed not only themselves, but the former bandits as well, adequately for the several days it would take for the combined group to approach Princess Kristin.
Further inquiries among his newest adherents gleaned for Murat a welcome confirmation that at least Prince Mark, whose presence might have complicated things immeasurably, was, as so often, out of the country. But Mark was expected back at any time now.
From certain things that the soldiers said, certain expressions that crossed some of their faces when Mark was mentioned, the Crown Prince got the idea that they might retain a high regard for Mark as a fair Prince and a capable soldier. But these indications of regard for Kristin’s husband vanished as soon as the men learned that their new master’s attitude toward Mark was less than cordial. From now on several of the men had only black looks and dark mutterings at any mention of their former commander. These, Murat decided, were probably men who had nursed some resentment against Mark even before they caught the vibrations of Murat’s feelings toward him.
As for the Princess herself, all the troopers were glad to see and hear how highly Murat thought of her. They also continued to hold Kristin in great esteem.
Murat decided that he had learned all he needed to know for the time being.
“Let us march on,” he ordered his combined force. “Toward the Princess, in her summer retreat.”
Chapter Six
Following the surrender of the border patrol, the Crown Prince and his newly enlarged entourage enjoyed several days of almost uneventful travel. All during this time the Sword remained sheathed at Murat’s side. As they traveled he observed his followers carefully, to see how and when the Mindsword’s influence would begin to wear off—sooner or later, he knew, it probably would. And indeed, some of the men’s behavior did change with the passage of hours and days. The Crown Prince thought that within two days three or four of the bandits and some half a dozen of the troopers had begun to have second thoughts about their quick conversion. The process, unlike that of their metamorphosis into his followers, was quite gradual, manifesting itself only in solemn faces and thoughtful stares; he had no fears of a sudden betrayal.
As the enduring effects of the shock of magic continued to weaken, the undisciplined bandits grew a trifle lax in obeying Murat’s orders, and Carlo reported that some of the troopers were beginning to recall their broken oaths of fealty to Tasavalta’s Princess. No dramatic event occurred to illustrate these changes, but small signs were visible to one who watched for them as the Crown Prince did. Quietly he asked his son’s opinion on what was happening.
Carlo seemed dismayed at the thought of anyone who had once seen the light choosing to turn away from it again. He suggested that his father draw the Sword once more.
But Murat declined to do that. Instead, calling
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