in the Alps, he had heard that legend.
“You’re joking!” he protested.
Eneko gazed at him mildly, and said nothing. It was left to Diego to state the obvious.
“He most certainly is not.”
VILNA
Not for the first time, the shaman thought longingly of the relative safety of the lakes and forests of Karelen from which he had come. It required all his self-control to keep from trembling. That would be disastrous. His master tolerated fear; he did not tolerate a display of it.
As always in his private chambers, Jagiellon was not wearing the mask which the Grand Duke wore in his public appearances. Jagiellon was officially blind—due to the injuries he had suffered in his desperate attempt to save his father from the assassins who murdered him. Such, at least, was Jagiellon’s claim. The shaman doubted if very many people in Lithuania believed that tale; none at all, in the capital city of Vilna. Most of the populace of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and Poland were quite certain that Jagiellon had organized his father’s murder in order to usurp the throne.
Few of them cared, in truth. Succession in Lithuania was often a bloody affair, to begin with, and in the four years since he ascended to the throne Jagiellon had made it quite clear that he was even more ruthless than his father had been.
But, if they doubted his other claim, few Lithuanians doubted Jagiellon’s claim of blindness. Indeed, they took a certain grim satisfaction in the knowledge. Jagiellon was more savage than his father, true—but at least the father had managed to blind the son before succumbing to the usurpation. Not surprising, really. Jagiellon’s father had been as famous with a blade as Jagiellon himself.
The shaman suffered from no such delusion. In the time since he entered the grand duke’s service, the shaman had
“You’re joking!” he protested.
Eneko gazed at him mildly, and said nothing. It was left to Diego to state the obvious.
“He most certainly is not.”
VILNA
Not for the first time, the shaman thought longingly of the relative safety of the lakes and forests of Karelen from which he had come. It required all his self-control to keep from trembling. That would be disastrous. His master tolerated fear; he did not tolerate a display of it.
As always in his private chambers, Jagiellon was not wearing the mask which the Grand Duke wore in his public appearances. Jagiellon was officially blind—due to the injuries he had suffered in his desperate attempt to save his father from the assassins who murdered him. Such, at least, was Jagiellon’s claim. The shaman doubted if very many people in Lithuania believed that tale; none at all, in the capital city of Vilna. Most of the populace of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and Poland were quite certain that Jagiellon had organized his father’s murder in order to usurp the throne.
Few of them cared, in truth. Succession in Lithuania was often a bloody affair, to begin with, and in the four years since he ascended to the throne Jagiellon had made it quite clear that he was even more ruthless than his father had been.
But, if they doubted his other claim, few Lithuanians doubted Jagiellon’s claim of blindness. Indeed, they took a certain grim satisfaction in the knowledge. Jagiellon was more savage than his father, true—but at least the father had managed to blind the son before succumbing to the usurpation. Not surprising, really. Jagiellon’s father had been as famous with a blade as Jagiellon himself.
The shaman suffered from no such delusion. In the time since he entered the grand duke’s service, the shaman had