Murder in LaMut by Raymond E. Feist, Joel Rosenberg Page A

well: I want you to let me represent you at the Council. There’s precedent, rare precedent…’
    ‘I couldn’t ask that of you, my dear,’ the Baron said. ‘You’re tired from your trip.’
    Kethol sat motionless. At least if they didn’t notice him he wouldn’t be getting involved in an argument between a baron and his wife. What the argument was really about Kethol wasn’t sure–the Baron had just as much as said that she was going back to LaMut–
    ‘If you don’t trust me, then so be it,’ she said. ‘Who would you have speak for Mondegreen at the Council? Lord Venten? Benteen?’
    Kethol didn’t recognize the names–staying out of local politics was always a good idea–but the Baron frowned and tried to shake his head. ‘Well, I suppose that my cousin Alfon could–’
    ‘Alfon is an idiot, with an eye on the barony.’
    The Baron reached out and patted her belly. ‘I’d hoped that that would not come to pass,’ he said. ‘But…’ he sighed.
    ‘I’ll ask this of you one more time, my husband,’ she said. ‘Send me to LaMut, to the Council, to represent your interests, our interests.’
    The Baron sighed, and nodded. ‘Very well, my dear. As you wish.’ He turned to Kethol. ‘I’ve great faith in my own troops, but I will expect that you will keep an eye on my wife, as well.’
    Kethol was beginning to understand why the purse was so heavy.
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ he said.

    ‘He wants us to what? ’ Durine shook his head.
    ‘Bodyguard his wife.’
    ‘And Morray?’
    ‘He didn’t say. I don’t think, though, that he much cares one way or another.’
    Durine snorted. ‘Yeah, but Tom Garnett and Steven Argent do. We don’t need another noble to babysit. If we get jumped by some more Tsurani, we’ll have enough trouble trying to keep Morray alive, and we’ll have the Captain and the Swordmaster to answer to if we don’t.’
    ‘I’m not telling you what we should do. I’m just telling you what he asked .’ Kethol balanced the pouch on the palm of his hand. ‘And what he paid good gold for.’
    ‘Gold is a fine thing, but it doesn’t make a sword any sharper or a wrist any faster,’ Durine said. ‘If it all goes to shit, I say we protect the Baron, and let Lady Mondegreen fend for herself.’
    Pirojil stood silently for a moment, watching the carriage being loaded. The crates of messenger pigeons being loaded on the top of the carriage and the troop of relief soldiers would have been required in any event. The wagons would have had to be loaded with the sacks of grain for the horses; the canvas bags and oaken hogsheads containing supplies for the troops would have been necessary, as well.
    It was entirely possible, of course, that the lady’s travelling clothes had never been unpacked, and that a fresh set of dumpy maids had instantly been made ready; but the chests being loaded into the carriage boot and the presence of a second wagon suggested some degree of preparation.
    Why? The lady was enough of a horsewoman to have preferred to travel on horseback…
    He didn’t like it, any of it.
    ‘I’m with Durine on this,’ Pirojil said, finally. ‘You didn’t swear any oaths, did you?’ Kethol had strange ideas about keeping promises.
    ‘No, not really. But I didn’t empty the pouch out on his bed, either.’
    ‘Shit.’
    ‘Hmmm…’ Durine felt at the hilt of his sword, his index finger idly tapping at it. ‘I’m beginning to think that we might want to see if we can draw our pay as soon as we get to LaMut, and see if we can hole up in Ylith until the ice breaks.’
    Pirojil nodded. Politics. The Baron’s obvious heirs were dead, and unless there was another one in Lady Mondegreen’s belly, there was sure to be some contention for the barony, once Mondegreen died.
    Damn fool, to have let his last son and heir, presumably the son of a previous wife, ride off to be skewered by a Tsurani spear, but Kingdom nobles were like that. It would be hard to command men once