The Man Behind the Mask. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ was about six-eight. I swear to you, he looked like a Marvel comics superhero come to life. Massively muscular, with shoulder-length blond hair. And when I say muscular, I mean as in Hulk Hogan, as in Schwarzenegger during his bodybuilding days.

      Brit left us. I told Hauk what I knew. Gravely he thanked me. “There may be more questions later,” he warned. “And may I take this opportunity to tender His Majesty’s deepest regrets for what has happened here tonight?”

      “Well, sure,” I said, feeling there was probably some proper response to that. But not being Gullandrian, I didn’t know what it was. “And, uh, thank you for…everything.”

      He bowed his big blond head. “I am more than gratified to be of service.” He looked at me again, piercingly, without the slightest trace of a smile. “And may the wise eye of Odin be upon you.”

      Was that a good thing, to have the wise eye of Odin “upon you”? I supposed it must be. He didn’t say it as if it was a threat or anything. And what should I say now? He just didn’t come across as a small-talk kind of guy.

      A tap on the door saved me from having to figure out my next conversational gambit. It was Brit, fully dressed in gray slacks, black shoes and a funnel-neck sweater. “Finished?”

      Hauk saluted, fist to chest. “Yes, Your Highness. The interview is concluded.”

      He left us. Once I knew he was out of earshot, I remarked, “He’s your sister’s husband, and he calls you Your Highness?”

      She shrugged. “It’s a matter of form, that’s all.”

      “But is he always so…”

      She knew the word I wanted. “Reserved? Well, sometimes, when Elli’s around, he’ll lighten up a little.”

      “Fun guy to have at a party, huh?”

      “Hauk’s a soldier, through and through. He’d never have become the king’s warrior if he weren’t. The training is killing. And I mean literally. Men have died trying to prove themselves worthy of the job. And Hauk’s not only good at his job, he’s…spectacular. A great warrior. The people adore him—and you should see him fight.”

      “Uh. No, thanks.”

      “Come on. I don’t mean a real fight.”

      “Oh. There’s another kind?”

      She nodded. “In the warm months, my father puts on a series of fairs down in the parkland below the palace. At the fairs, Gullandrian men come from all over the country to fight staged battles in the old, wild Viking manner. Hauk inevitably wins the day—and I can see by the look in those big eyes of yours. You’ve got a thousand questions.”

      “At least.”

      “Sorry, but right now I need to get you back to your own rooms.”

      I was not thrilled to hear that; I had the feeling she was going to drop me off there. After what I’d been through that night I didn’t relish the thought of being alone—at least not while it was still dark outside.

      However, my friend was not my baby-sitter. “Good idea.” I tried valiantly to appear more enthusiastic than I felt.

      “I’m afraid we can’t go back the way we came. Hauk’s men have taken over the secret passageways.” She was frowning at my yellow chenille robe, at all the hugely smiling SpongeBobs peeking out from under it. “Do you want to change before we hit the main hallways?”

      “Into what? Something of yours?” Brit was about three inches taller than I was—and thinner, too. How much thinner? Hah. Like I’d tell you that. “And really,” I added, pouring on the perky, “you don’t have to go with me. I can find my own way back.”

      She waved a hand. “I’m not leaving you to stumble around the hallways by yourself.”

      “Stumble? Who says I would stumble?”

      She sighed. “It’s a figure of speech.”

      “Choose another one.”

      “Oh, stop. You know what I mean. And as far as something for you to wear, I’ll just—”

      I was shaking my head. “Look. It’s so late, it’s early. I doubt we’ll run into anyone. And who’s gonna care what I’m wearing, anyway?”

      Well, I was half-right. Nobody seemed to care that I was not properly dressed. But we did run into people. A number of them.

      When we left the suite, I expected to see the men the soldiers had dragged out, sitting propped against the wall on the floor, their hands behind them, still tied with lamp cord. I was picturing sullen, threatening glances and muttered Gullandrian obscenities.

      But the prisoners were nowhere in sight. There were, however, soldiers all up and down the hallway. We saw a bunch more every time we turned a corner.

      And some of the guests were stirring, poking sleep-rumpled heads through slits in doorways, squinting against the light from the ornate wall sconces, asking, “What’s going on? Has something happened?”

      Brit gave them regal smiles and a few reassuring words and we moved on by. We saw more soldiers, and several housemaids and an old prince who, for some unknown reason, was up and about, all gotten up in a tweed suit, complete with vest curving over his considerable paunch and a weighty veil of gold chains looping extravagantly from his watch pocket.

      “Your Highness.” He bowed in the Gullandrian way. “Schemes of the Trickster, what goes? All this commotion has ruined my sleep.”

      Brit told him there was nothing to worry about. “Please, Prince Sigurd. Back to your rooms. All is safe now, I promise you.”

      Muttering under his breath, the old prince did as she instructed.

      Around the next turn, another prince was waiting, this one young and slim, with pale hair combed back from a high forehead. He was also fully dressed, but not in tweeds. Armani, maybe? Or Dolce and Gabbana? He frowned when he saw us coming, then quickly bowed.

      “Prince Onund,” Brit said when we reached him. “What are you doing up?”

      “Your Highness, I heard all the noise. What’s afoot?”

      “Nothing to worry about,” she coolly lied. “As of now, we have everything completely under control.”

      “Ah,” he said, as if she’d actually told him something. “Then I’ll return to my chamber.”

      “Good idea.” Brit pulled me on down the hall.

      A minute or two later, we reached our destination. She led me inside, helped me out of my robe as if I couldn’t manage it myself and tenderly tucked me into bed.

      “I’ll stay right here,” she whispered, standing over me. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.”

      I did like the sound of that. I wanted her to stay right there beside me until daylight, at least.

      But I just couldn’t do that to her. She kept СКАЧАТЬ