The Traders' War (Merchant Princes Omnibus 2) by Stross Charles Page B

led to believe? Do you think she had something to do with that? Suck the man dry and cast aside his bones like a
     spider.’
    ‘Nicky! That’s disgusting!’
    ‘Not as disgusting as what that spotty lad wanted with you in the bedchamber when she was away.’
    ‘
Don’t
you go talking like that about me – ’
    ‘Then don’t you go calling me disgusting,
miss
.’
    (
Sigh
.) ‘I’m not calling you disgusting.’
    ‘Then it’s a good thing I didn’t call you a whore, isn’t it? People might misunderstand.’
    ‘Here, have another – drink while she’s not looking. Who
is
that longshanks oddboy, anyway?’
    ‘Him? He’s one of the hangers-on at court. Some fancy-boy or other to the king’s bedchamber. Dresser-on-of-codpieces or some such.’
    ‘You don’t know, do you? She doesn’t know!’
    ‘Rubbish, he’s Sieur Villem du Praha and he’s married to Lady Jain of Cours, and he rides with the king’s hunt. And look, there’s our missy Kara
     going all gushy over him.’
    ‘Kara? She’s – ’
    ‘You just look, whenever she gets within six feet of him she has to tie her knees together with her stay laces to stop them falling apart. Silly little bitch, she
     hasn’t seen the way he looks at his wife.’
    ‘Milady Kara’s not one to turn her nose up at a lost cause. But what’s with milady the honorable Old Goose? What’s
she
doing with
     him?’
    ‘Who the – knows, pardon my Loewsprache, she’s being a witch again. Shamelessly talking to strange men.’
    ‘What’s shameless about it? She’s got her
chaperone
– ’
    (
Laughter
.) ‘Red-Minge Kara is a chaperone? What color is the sky in your county, and do the fish have feathers to match the birds’ scales?’
    ‘I’d like to know what she’s talking about, though.’
    ‘I’ve got an idea. Wait here.’
    (
Click
.)
    ‘So? What’s the story?’
    ‘Give me that.’
    ‘Must be a long story to wet your throat like that.’
    ‘Long? You haven’t heard the first of it – ’
    ‘Is she trying to fix Kara up with a paramour?’
    ‘Is she – bah! Even Old Witchy-Goose isn’t
that
stupid, what would people say if her lady-in-waiting got pregnant? I’m sorry I asked. I thought
     it would be something like that. And the promises I had to make!’
    ‘Promises?’
    ‘Yes, I said I’d ask you to meet Oswelt – him with the belly – behind the marquee in half an hour for a midnight promenade.’
    ‘Bitch!’
    ‘Now, now, mind your language! Remember I said you weren’t a whore? I didn’t
promise
you’d be there, just said I’d ask.’
    ‘You did . . .’
    ‘So if you want . . .’
    ‘What about her ladyship? What did you find out?’
    ‘Well, it’s as well I asked because something tells me we’ll be dragged hither and back in the next months, or I’m not a household hand.’
    ‘Really? Why? What’s she want from him?’
    ‘He’s not with the king’s wardrobe, he’s with the prince’s. And you know what that means.’
    ‘Oh!’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘The slut!’
    ‘Absolutely wanton.’
    ‘We’ll be back here three times a night before the month is out.’
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘Hmm. So what else did you tell master Oswelt about me . . . ?’
    (
Click
.)
     
    TRANSCRIPT ENDS

INCORRECT ASSUMPTIONS
    Twelve weeks ago (continued):
    Mike Fleming leaned back in his chair and tried desperately to stifle a yawn.
This is crazy
, he told himself.
How can you be tired at a time like
this?
    The air conditioner in the conference room wheezed, losing the battle to keep the heat of the summer evening at bay. He desperately needed another coffee. Despite the couple of hours’ nap
he’d caught back home before the spooks from NSA sucked him in, his eyes kept half-closing, threatening him with a sleep-deprivation shutdown.
    ‘Agent Fleming?’
    ‘Oh. Yeah? Sorry, what was the question?’
    ‘How long have you been awake?’ It was Smith, his expression unreadable.
    Mike shook himself. ‘About fifty hours. Got about an