Gerard
had never met any of the Pale Flame Knights before, and his first impressions
weren’t very favourable. They had come to the castle several days after the
first Crimson Flame knights had left and as far as he could see they were
identical to the more numerous Crimson Flamers except that they wore white
flames on a black background rather than crimson flames on a white background.
He had also heard that, unlike the Crimson Flame Knights, they had made a vow
of poverty.
He had been introduced to the Grandmaster of
the Pale Flame Knights, Otto Kantor, very briefly when the white knights had
come into the city. Von Eisen had been vague about Gerard’s role in his
organisation to Kantor, but that was fine. As far as he was concerned the Baron
kept him on so that he could do any vaguely dirty work that seemed beneath the
knights themselves. Recently, though, he had had very little to do and now he
was just waiting for Von Eisen to pay him off. He had gathered a nice stash of
money and he planned to lay low in his big house in Teulacen, in Eastern Formor
by the great lake. That would give him about six months of idle pleasure before
he would have to work again.
It was surprising, then, when this Otto
Kantor, the lesser Grandmaster, turned up his door late one night. Gerard had a
small apartment in the depths of the castle, at ground level, nothing like as
pleasant as Victoria’s and Lily’s penthouse suite, but fine for him.
He opened the door cautiously, as it was
after eleven pm and he never had visitors at this time. Otto was holding a
lantern and looking rather furtive. Gerard thought him a rather sombre,
potentially dangerous man; just like the Baron.
‘Lord Kantor’ he said, speaking carefully,
‘how can I help you at this late hour?’
‘May I come in?’ asked Otto, looking around
for anyone who might have seen him.
Gerard considered saying a brisk ‘no’ and
shutting the door in his face. He still had a half-finished glass of whiskey
and was rather enjoying drinking it on his own. He sighed and pulled the door
open enough to allow his visitor to squeeze through. Otto entered awkwardly and
in a great hurry.
Inside the apartment was a small sitting room
with two old but comfortable arm chairs, a small bookcase and a table.
‘Sit down, Lord Kantor, if you please’ said
Gerard..
Otto hesitated for a moment and then sat,
rather uncomfortably. He scanned the room with flickering movements of his eyes
but never once looked fully at his host.
‘Please don’t call me “Lord Kantor”, Mr
Hoffmann’ he murmured stiffly, ‘we use only first names in my order’
He hesitated and then finally looked Gerard
in the eye.
‘”Otto” is perfectly acceptable’ he said, his
voice almost a whisper.
Gerard was surprised by this: among the Crimson
Flamers titles were supremely important.
‘Do you mean that I should call you
“Grandmaster Otto”?,’ Gerard asked, feeling a little confused, but also amused.
His visitor shook his head.
‘No, that’s not necessary – just “Otto” would
be best’
Gerard scanned Otto up and down. He was
dressed in a simple black cloak with a white shirt and dark breeches. He would
have blended in well in a clerk’s office, except for his eyes, which were
painfully intense. There was nothing to suggest that he had either money or
power, which was disappointing.
‘Then you can call me “Gerard”, if you like’
Otto nodded gravely. Gerard thought it was time
to come to the point.
‘So, “Otto”, what do you want?’
The knight looked uncomfortable again. Gerard
made no attempt to reduce this discomfort.
‘I want to arrange a meeting with Princess
Lily of Amansk’
Gerard was surprised, again. Why was he
asking him?
‘That’s not really something that I can
arrange, I’m afraid. Access to her highness would be the Baron’s business’
‘I was told that you might be able to
organise…’ Otto coughed and frowned, ‘I mean, that you might arrange, a brief,
informal visit’
Gerard leant forward so he could examine the
knight very closely.
‘Why would I do that?’ he said, ‘It would be
dangerous and I would risk losing my job’
Otto looked down at the table, once again
unwilling, or unable, to look Gerard in the eye.
‘I have also been told that you are willing
to risk quite a lot if the payment is good enough’
Gerard said nothing, but certainly didn’t
jump up to deny it.
Otto slid his hand into the pocket of his
breeches and pulled out a wallet and started to take something out of it. His
hands fumbled, however, and he dropped it on the floor, scattering paper notes.
He scrambled around trying to pick them all up.
Gerard thought that he looked comical, but there really was a lot of
money. It was useless money, of course, but there was still a very substantial
amount of it.
Gerard helped him pick the crisp bank notes
up. Otto sat back down and folded them carefully back into his wallet. Despite himself, Gerard felt compelled to say
something.
‘You know these are only valid in the Empire,
don’t you?’ he said, ‘no northern state accepts paper money’
Otto looked up at him coldly and nodded even
more icily.
‘I have some other currency’ he said,
reaching into another pocket in the wallet. He pulled out three Imperial
sovereigns and placed them on the table. If anything Gerard liked the knight
even less now, but he had instantly become very interesting. He had all this
southern money and so he must be in Imperial pay. He’d never seen the mighty
Baron with any imperial currency. These knights were different, after all.
Gerard stared longingly at the big shiny
coins. Three pure gold sovereigns were worth about a month’s pay. This might
well be worth doing, particularly as most of the Crimson Flamer army had
already left for Amansk. The two
prisoners didn’t need to know that this wouldn’t be a scheduled meeting.
‘I have my reasons for not wanting to involve
the Baron’ Otto said, ‘and I have also been led to believe that if you are paid
enough then you will keep quiet about arranging such a meeting’
Otto picked up a sovereign. He turned it so
that Emperor Pallatian’s head was staring at him. Gerard shivered slightly.
‘Forgive me if I seem to be approaching this
problem in a clumsy way’ said Otto, ‘I have lived under monastic rules for the
last eighteen years and we do not use money. Neither do we have vagabonds’
Gerard smiled to himself. Why did people
always assume that he’d be insulted by such a description? He was clearheaded
enough to know that if one stole, cheated and abducted for a living then no-one
would call them a hero. It was extraordinary, however, how many of those same
rude people would insult you while offering big bags of money.
‘So – three elfrounds for a visit,’ asked
Gerard, ‘Is that what you’re offering?’
Otto tilted his head and looked uncertain. He
nodded experimentally.
‘Are you trying to fool me, Mr Hoffmann?’ he
asked
‘Actually no – well, not at the moment,
anyway’
Gerard
leant over and picked up the sovereigns. He held one up so that now he could
see the Emperor’s head. He laughed.
‘Long live the Imperial mint, eh, Otto’
Otto looked at him as if at a snake that had
just slithered out from a pile of logs.
‘All hail the Emperor!’ he murmured, and got
up. The conversation was clearly at an end.
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