course. One of the really annoying things about Magda was that she was generally right. It was the main reason he hadn't had her boiled in oil years ago. It was she who had pointed out that anything that befell Princess Kerin must happen away from the palace, when Septimus was not present to invite suspicion.
It was she who had persuaded him to send Kerin off to visit Queen Helena of Bodengen, under the pretext of marrying her off to her son Rolf. It was Magda who had sent one of her minions into Brigandia to spread word of a vulnerable carriage that would soon be crossing the plains, carrying rich pickings. And it was Magda who had arranged for a fiendish potion to be given to the guard of honour in their nightly ration of wine; one that would incapacitate more than half of them, meaning that the caravan would have to head for home with its troop of guards well under fighting strength. And the lure that would ensure she would risk a quick return? Her seventeenth birthday party. There was no way such a spoiled brat would risk missing that.
The whole scheme had taken months to prepare and weeks to execute and now, because of the interference of two unknown warriors, it had all come to nothing. King Septimus felt like spitting; and indeed, he did just that, right in the corner of Magda's room.
'Oh!' he said. 'Is there nothing I can do? Can nobody rid me of that accursed child?'
Magda was rubbing her gnarled old hands together, as though trying to clean them. 'Perhaps, sire, if you would allow me another chance—'
'I think you've had quite enough chances, you malignant old boiler! You remember what I said when you undertook this task? That if you failed, your miserable life would be forfeit.'
Magda's good eye had turned the colour of panic, but she never faltered in her reply
'I . . . do remember, your majesty, of course. But you see, I think perhaps now the tide is finally turning in our favour.'
He gave her an irritated look. 'Meaning . . . ?'
'Two strangers, sire, soon to arrive here in Keladon. Strangers can be a useful commodity.'
'I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about,' he growled.
She gave him a twisted smile. 'Strangers can be blamed for certain things. Since there is nobody who knows them and can vouch for them, people are often willing to believe the very worst about them – if you catch my drift . . . ?'
'Magda, if this is an attempt to play for time—'
'Oh no, your majesty! But please, let me get the measure of these two great warriors. I think I will be able to find a solution to our little problem soon enough.' She began to pace around the room as she warmed to her theme. 'You, for your part, must welcome them as conquering heroes. Spoil them, let them want for nothing, indulge them in their every desire!'
'And why would I do that, exactly?'
'Because then it will be all the more shocking when they turn and bite the hand that has fed them!' She cackled as only a hag can cackle.
'Oh, very well,' said Septimus wearily. 'We'll try it your way. But I mean it this time. No more chances. If you don't deliver on your promises, I swear you will feel the edge of the executioner's axe. And not with your thumb.'
Magda fluttered her eyelid and tried to keep the relief out of her voice. 'Of course, sire. Your humble servant, as ever.' She bowed low and stayed in that position until Septimus got bored with standing there and swept out of the room. Only then did she straighten up, placing a hand on her aching backside, where the king's boot had undoubtedly left quite a bruise.
She was all too aware of the vulnerability of her position. She would have to conclude this matter once and for all if she wanted to live. She had been threatened by King Septimus several times before; but this time, she felt sure, he really meant it. She started at the sound of a mighty trumpet fanfare from out in the courtyard and limped to the window to watch the arrival
It was she who had persuaded him to send Kerin off to visit Queen Helena of Bodengen, under the pretext of marrying her off to her son Rolf. It was Magda who had sent one of her minions into Brigandia to spread word of a vulnerable carriage that would soon be crossing the plains, carrying rich pickings. And it was Magda who had arranged for a fiendish potion to be given to the guard of honour in their nightly ration of wine; one that would incapacitate more than half of them, meaning that the caravan would have to head for home with its troop of guards well under fighting strength. And the lure that would ensure she would risk a quick return? Her seventeenth birthday party. There was no way such a spoiled brat would risk missing that.
The whole scheme had taken months to prepare and weeks to execute and now, because of the interference of two unknown warriors, it had all come to nothing. King Septimus felt like spitting; and indeed, he did just that, right in the corner of Magda's room.
'Oh!' he said. 'Is there nothing I can do? Can nobody rid me of that accursed child?'
Magda was rubbing her gnarled old hands together, as though trying to clean them. 'Perhaps, sire, if you would allow me another chance—'
'I think you've had quite enough chances, you malignant old boiler! You remember what I said when you undertook this task? That if you failed, your miserable life would be forfeit.'
Magda's good eye had turned the colour of panic, but she never faltered in her reply
'I . . . do remember, your majesty, of course. But you see, I think perhaps now the tide is finally turning in our favour.'
He gave her an irritated look. 'Meaning . . . ?'
'Two strangers, sire, soon to arrive here in Keladon. Strangers can be a useful commodity.'
'I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about,' he growled.
She gave him a twisted smile. 'Strangers can be blamed for certain things. Since there is nobody who knows them and can vouch for them, people are often willing to believe the very worst about them – if you catch my drift . . . ?'
'Magda, if this is an attempt to play for time—'
'Oh no, your majesty! But please, let me get the measure of these two great warriors. I think I will be able to find a solution to our little problem soon enough.' She began to pace around the room as she warmed to her theme. 'You, for your part, must welcome them as conquering heroes. Spoil them, let them want for nothing, indulge them in their every desire!'
'And why would I do that, exactly?'
'Because then it will be all the more shocking when they turn and bite the hand that has fed them!' She cackled as only a hag can cackle.
'Oh, very well,' said Septimus wearily. 'We'll try it your way. But I mean it this time. No more chances. If you don't deliver on your promises, I swear you will feel the edge of the executioner's axe. And not with your thumb.'
Magda fluttered her eyelid and tried to keep the relief out of her voice. 'Of course, sire. Your humble servant, as ever.' She bowed low and stayed in that position until Septimus got bored with standing there and swept out of the room. Only then did she straighten up, placing a hand on her aching backside, where the king's boot had undoubtedly left quite a bruise.
She was all too aware of the vulnerability of her position. She would have to conclude this matter once and for all if she wanted to live. She had been threatened by King Septimus several times before; but this time, she felt sure, he really meant it. She started at the sound of a mighty trumpet fanfare from out in the courtyard and limped to the window to watch the arrival
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