Among Wolves. Nancy Wallace K.

“Maybe it’s a slow acting poison and tomorrow when I try to waken you…”

      “Enough,” Marcus said. “This is a serious matter. That symbol represents both a warning and a threat.”

      “How do you know that?” Devin asked. “I’ve never even seen one of those before.”

      “My family has its roots in Sorrento,” Marcus answered. “Those curse symbols are common there. I remember my mother showing me one once. A disgruntled customer had left a blue one on someone’s stall at the market.”

      “And people actually fear them?” Gaspard asked.

      “Oh, yes,” Marcus said. “They are taken quite seriously. My grandmother used to tell the story of a man who was feuding with his neighbor. One morning he left a red cross in the middle of the road so that his neighbor would step on it when he took his vegetables to market. The neighbor packed up his donkey and started to town, never even seeing the cross lying in the road. The donkey stepped on it instead. That evening on the way home, the donkey tripped along the cliff road. It fell into the sea and drowned.”

      Gaspard grimaced. “Shit, Dev, you owe me.”

      “Apparently,” Devin agreed, his eyes on his bodyguard. “Marcus, were you raised in Sorrento?”

      “No, I was born in Coreé.”

      “And when did you decide to go into my father’s service?”

      Marcus shrugged. “I don’t remember ever being given a choice. My family has served your family for generations both in Coreé and on your father’s estate in Bourgogne.”

      “That’s hardly fair to you, is it?” Devin said.

      “Your father has been good to me. Not only did he give me a responsible position in his household but he taught me to read and write.”

      “He taught you himself?” Devin asked in astonishment.

      Marcus nodded. “Every evening for several years.”

      Devin laughed. “That surprises me. I wish I had known before.”

      Gaspard savored another sip of wine. “Wasn’t he breaking the law by teaching you?”

      “Gaspard,” Devin cautioned.

      Marcus extended a placating hand. “It’s a legitimate question. Monsieur Roche said that my position as his bodyguard required me to carry correspondence, and it was necessary that I learn to read and write.”

      “And yet, he didn’t sponsor you and send you to school which he could have done legally. He taught you himself,” Gaspard pointed out.

      Marcus shrugged again. “I was already in his employ. He’s a good man. He treats his people with respect, both in Coreé and in Sorrento.”

      “So, perhaps Henri LeBeau wasn’t so wrong in his assessment of Vincent Roché?” Gaspard remarked thoughtfully.

      Devin glared at him. “So, you think my father was wrong to educate Marcus?”

      Gaspard’s hand flew to his chest. “I didn’t say that! God, you’re touchy tonight! I am actually questioning LeBeau’s motives. I was wondering if someone had started a movement to discredit the Chancellor.”

      Marcus was silent for a moment. “We had the first indications of that several months ago. Unfortunately, we suspect that your father may be one of the instigators.”

      Gaspard rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly a surprise.”

      “Why didn’t Father tell me?” Devin asked. The Chancellor Elite was elected by the Council. The position was normally held for a lifetime, as long as the candidate remained powerful and respected. Only twice in the past thousand years had a Chancellor been deposed by a political coup, and that had been in the early years of the empire.

      “There was nothing you could have done,” Marcus replied.

      “I could have stayed home.”

      “And what would that have accomplished?” Marcus asked.

      “My visit to the provinces wouldn’t have sparked controversy which put my father in a difficult position.”

      “Well, now that your trip is underway, conduct yourself in a manner that won’t worsen the problem,” Marcus answered curtly.

      “Obviously, it is already worse!” Devin said. “LeBeau is intent on starting rumors, and someone is trying hard to deter me from going.”

      “But the Council’s objections and our little folk symbol seem to be at cross purposes,” Gaspard pointed out.

      “What do you mean?” Devin asked.

      Gaspard leaned back against the wall and drained his wine glass before answering. “It seems to me that this trip plays right into my father’s hands. Why would he try to discourage you from going, if he intends to use your visit to the provinces to discredit your father?” He fumbled for the bottle on the floor, only to find it empty.

      “Maybe your father professes one view publicly and works privately to further the opposite position,” Devin said.

      “Or perhaps there are two factions working independently,” Marcus suggested.

      “At least, I see now why your father didn’t want you coming with me,” Devin said. “Perhaps his plan to hire tutors was just a pretense.”

      “Well, I’ll be happy if I’ve helped to ruin his plan,” Gaspard said, yawning. “He can hardly use you to disgrace your father without admitting I’ve done the same to him.” He stood up unsteadily. “I’m going to bed. Why don’t you two figure this out and tell me in the morning.”

      “Wait here a moment, Gaspard, while I take the dishes to the galley,” Marcus said. He turned to look at Devin. “You’d better turn in, too.”

      Devin snorted. “Who can sleep? There’s far too much to think about.” He watched the door close behind Marcus, glad to see the last of the debris from dinner.

      “The day after tomorrow we’ll be off this damn ship,” Gaspard reminded him. “And anyone following us will be far more obvious on land.”

      “A sharp shooter doesn’t have to be close to be effective,” Devin muttered.

      Gaspard shook his head. “It’s not like you to be so maudlin.”

      “I’m just annoyed that a simple trip could be used as a political weapon. I wish my father had been completely honest about why he wanted me to stay home,” Devin said.

      Gaspard grunted. “And would you have listened to him?”

      “Maybe, if I’d known what was at stake and I’d have to watch for assassins at every turn.”

      “Let me do that,” Marcus said, as he slipped back through the door. “That’s why your father sent me.”

      “See you in the morning,” Gaspard said, giving him a crooked salute and stumbling out into the passageway.

      “Goodnight,” Devin said, making no move to get up. He noticed the satchel in Marcus’s hand and frowned. “You’re not planning to sleep in here, are you?”

      “Your father entrusted me with your life,” Marcus replied, putting his satchel on the opposite bunk. “Locks are no deterrent to this intruder, so I’m not going to leave you alone.”

      “But your cabin’s just next door,” Devin pointed out.

      “I’ve learned only too well that an instant can mean the difference between life and death,” Marcus replied. “Gaspard may scoff at that red cross but I take it very seriously.”

      Devin took off his shirt, pulled off his boots, and lay down. He stared at the ceiling, thinking how little he really knew about the man