She smiled. “Hel o. The war has eased up. I thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
Off guard, disturbed by his response, he was flustered.
Neither fight nor flight were options.
“Bragi! It’s me! Good gracious. You aren’t very good at being a noble prisoner, are you?”
Her tone, the amusement edging her voice, dispel ed the intel ectual murk. “I got it made,” he croaked. “Relatively speaking.”
They could have shoved him down an oubliette and fed him spoiled pig manure for the rest of a very short life.
He drew no cheer from the thought.
He glared at the achingly beautiful woman.
“I’m beginning to think you’re more than just a man, Bragi Ragnarson. You’re maybe an elemental who is no longer sane and stil headed downhil .”
Ragnarson said nothing. He did not disagree.
A face came to mind. Sherilee. That sweet child, younger than his oldest boy. Their liaison, brief as it had been, had reminded him that he was stil alive.
He shook like a dog fresh in from the rain. “I’m sane right now but it won’t last.”
“I’m pleased. You can’t imagine how frustrating it is trying to communicate with someone who can’t see that they’re caught in reality’s trap.”
“You have me for now. It may not last. Something shook me off my foundations.”
“We weren’t responsible.”
He got no sense that she was lying.
She said, “I came for several reasons. First, to see how you’re doing. We were friends. You helped me.” He kept his expression neutral.
“I tried to support you, too. I failed. Then you put yourself into a position where this was the best I could do.” He thought this was more the work of Lord Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i.
“Cynical response noted.”
Ragnarson betrayed a smile.
“I’ve brought news from home. Which is hard to come by, these days.”
“I’ve known you a long time…”
She stopped him. She knew he never believed much that she said. “It would be more kind to leave you ignorant. The heart I found while I was in exile disagrees.” Ragnarson focused. Time to be careful. The Empress of Shinsan was going to give him something because she wanted something. “Do tel .”
“Last month your grandson Bragi seemed certain to become king of Kavelin, instead of Fulk. It was just a matter of time. The Itaskians were being neutralized. Inger was losing support fast. The Nordmen were distancing themselves from her and Greyfel s. Your cronies were dead or fled, but that wasn’t hampering Kristen.”
“But?” That required no genius to see.
“Credence Abaca died. And everything began to fal apart.” Ragnarson resumed pacing. “Abaca died? Real y?”
“He’d been il for some time, apparently. Once he went the tribes had no recognized chief of chiefs. With them out of it Kristen’s Wessons began to waver. There have been massive desertions. The men who haven’t yet left the regiments have no good reason to stay. They aren’t getting paid. They don’t want Inger but Kristen fled the kingdom once she no longer had the Marena Dimura to protect her.
Kavelin seems ready to fal apart.”
It looked like Shinsan had a fine opportunity—that Mist evidently did not view in that light.
Why give her ideas? She had plenty of her own. And Kavelin’s torment was his fault.
“I’m sorry. It’s a sad thing I caused. Aren’t there appropriate sayings about hubris?”
“In almost every language. It’s a popular pastime, smal men criticizing the stumbles of giants.” Ragnarson glanced out the nearest window. It would be time to eat, soon. What would it be? Outguessing the cooks was a favorite exercise.
Derel Prataxis said men grew introspective with age.
Ragnarson had tried it. He could not get interested in his own interior landscape, nor could he make himself care.
Mist broke the protracted silence. “You have no response?”
“Should I? It’s sad. My fault. I said that. It is what it is. I can’t do anything about it. Or is that why I’m honored with your presence?”
“In a sense. It was.”
“Sense me the sense, woman!”
“Don’t make me hurt you, old friend.” To remind him who was the guest.
“Sorry.” But he was not, and that was obvious.
“I hoped confinement would erode that attitude. That given time you would find your way back to the Bragi Ragnarson who won friends easily and inspired people. But he seems to have gone missing permanently.” He did not respond.
But he did pace.
“You haven’t tried to figure out how you came to this?”
“No figuring needed. I got too big for my britches, then I guessed wrong. My luck ran out.”
“So you’ve spent al this time, with no other demands on you, doing what? Pacing and being angry?” The appal ed way she said that tickled him. “Pretty much.”
“You are an animal.”
That did not please him. She seemed contemptuous now.
“I was considering sending you back but the Bragi Ragnarson I see here looks no better than Dane of Greyfel s, or take your pick of Nordmen.” She headed for the door, muttering, “How did he get from that to this in a year?”
...
That same night witnessed an event the tower’s denizens considered impossible. There was an attack. It was a complete surprise.
The raiders put a ladder up to the tower door. They broke through, spread out, and started kil ing. They would have succeeded completely had the Empress not been there, stealing a night’s rest.
It was a close thing, stil . Mist lost her bodyguards. Two of the kitchen crew survived only by hiding in the larder.
Lein She made it, too, but was wounded badly defending the transfer chamber.
He apologized for the disaster. “I should have anticipated an effort to free the prisoners.” The Empress touched the Candidate gently. “The fault was mine, Lein She. How many escaped?”
“I don’t know.” He went to sleep.
Mist studied her fingertips. Lein She might never waken if she could not summon a healing specialist. The portals were down.
She had not taken stock of the ful tragedy yet. There had been damage to the transfer portals despite Lein’s heroic stand. That may have been the thrust of the attack.
Nine attackers had died trying to ruin them.
The raid seemed too sophisticated for local malcontents.
Her mind made a grand leap. Somewhere amongst the Tervola was a man who wanted to bring her down.
Phsaw! Of course there was. But no Tervola would recruit, arm, and inform a band of guerril as. It would be beneath his dignity. Nor would any Tervola believe that cat’s-paws like these stood a chance against her.
Again, she was not supposed to have been here. The attack must have had another point.
She bul ied the surviving staff into securing the tower, starting with the ladder and door. A census of prisoners fol owed.
There had been no escapes. Evidently, liberation had not been the intent. Three prisoners were dead. Another prisoner had been mauled. Three remained undisturbed, including Ragnarson, who had remained unaware
