trouble.
The symbols floating in the Winterstorm danced as though stirred by an unseasonable whirlwind.
Michael asked, “Where is Mist?”
Nepanthe said, “We don’t know. She got a wild hair and took off. Said she’d be right back. Where are Eka and Ethrian? We have to get them out of here, too.” The other living clutter had begun leaving soon after the Karkha Tower went.
...
Mist’s wild hair lured her to Lioantung, where night had fal en already. Lords Ssu-ma and Chu were startled when she turned up, unaccompanied by lifeguards. Lo Kuun could find no words. Shih-ka’i babbled, “Il ustrious?”
“You captured the horse. And the Horn. I couldn’t stay away. I had to see them, up close, before…”
“Before?”
“The grand old vil ain is final y ready to attack. I wanted my successes fresh in my mind beforehand.”
“I see.” She meant that she did not expect to survive the night. She wanted to go into the darkness sure that she had come closer to victory than had anyone before her. She wanted to go out believing that she had damaged Old Meddler so badly that he would not be able to go on for long. “What did you do about the children?” That, she sensed, might be the most important question that this man had ever asked her. Somehow, it held personal meaning. “They wil go to Kavelin for now. They wil not be at risk when my doom arrives.”
“Very wel . I shal stand behind them, then.” Meaning he would become their guardian should she truly be taken.
“Thank you, Shih-ka’i. You can’t imagine how much that means to me. I’l face the night with much more confidence.”
“Come, then. I’l show you.”
They had the winged horse suspended in a custom harness on a huge wagon. Hanging there, it could not escape.
Neither would it suffer further damage as it traveled west toward the heart of the empire. A senior Tervola veterinarian had treated its injuries. The animal was half hidden inside casts and bandages. It was awake despite having been given medications for pain. It eyed Mist intel igently.
“Has it tried to communicate?”
“No, Il ustrious. I believe it is content, though.” Lo Kuun said, “As content as any creature can be after having been rattled by the blast from a thaumaturgic long shaft, fol owed by hitting rocky ground going fifty miles an hour.”
She considered the beast. “Yes. I suppose. What about the Horn?” Shih-ka’i said, “Over there. You’l be disappointed.” He was right. The Horn was mashed, broken, burned, and melted in places. What had been recovered lay strewn about on one long table.Beyond and around it lay tons of random material that it had spewed across the countryside after it was hit.
“They’re stil bringing stuff in by the wagonload,” Lo Kuun said. “I doubt we’l ever find it al .”
Mist said, “I am disappointed but I understand. I’d better get back. Just to make sure my orders are unambiguous and being carried out exactly.” Her children might not be entirely accepting of their new role, which was to get out of the way and stay alive.
“It is truly that close to happening, Il ustrious?” Lord Ssu-ma asked. “It is. It may have begun already, though I hope he delays for a few hours more.”
“That being the case, I have to get a move-on myself.” Mist wondered what that meant. He volunteered nothing.
...
Ragnarson stepped out of the portal feeling giddy, with an inclination to throw up. A voice said, “Keep moving. You don’t want to be in the way when the next traveler arrives.” Ah. That antique, Lord Yuan, was managing this exercise personal y. Ragnarson stumbled a half-dozen steps before he realized where he was— because when he focused he found himself looking at Fiana in her casket, radiant as ever she had been in life.
He wanted to be mad because they were stil using her tomb to hide their portals, but he was too sick and there were too many things that had to be done. He kissed his fingers, laid them on the glass over Fiana’s beautiful face, then staggered toward the light.
One of Yuan’s henchmen had the door to the mausoleum partway open. It was late afternoon in Vorgreberg. Bragi stepped out far enough to look westward. The descending sun had settled behind the hil already.
Haroun and Yasmid emerged. Bin Yousif said something about the milder weather.
Minutes passed. Ragnarson began to frown. The others should have come through by now… Ah. Here came Scalza, indignant about having to miss the impending battle, but without much real vigor. Michael Trebilcock was two minutes behind the boy, patiently chivvying Ekaterina, who was thoroughly put out. Nepanthe fol owed, with the baby. Smyrena was terrified.
Nobody looked like they had come through without feeling terribly il . Yasmid appeared especial y sick, and troubled by concerns about how the transfer might have affected her unborn child.
“Al right,” he growled. “We’re al freaking unhappy to be here and we’re al hung over. But we are here and they aren’t going to let anybody go back til the excitement is over. I’m going to be hungry when my gut settles down. I reckon the rest of you wil be, too, so let’s go someplace where we can find food and fire.”
Lord Yuan came outside. “Please hurry, Majesty. To the castle. And send our people back out here. We have a task for them.” He paused several beats before adding, “And we wil do our best to leave this memorial in at least as good a condition as we found it.”
He sounded quite sincere.
“Thank you. I’l send them right away.”
...
Josiah entered Inger’s private quarters using the secret passageway. He seemed particularly uncomfortable.
“Josiah? Are you…? Should you be with Wachtel?”
“Ah…probably. Though I think this is more mental than physical. A rider just came in. The King is back, with a party that appears to include…” He suffered a spasm of some sort. He pul ed himself together, offered several unlikely names in addition to that of Michael Trebilcock. “They could be at the gate by now.”
“Damn.” Said without any real fire. “We can’t run them off so let’s bring out Nathan and Babeltausque and deal with it.”
...
Mist felt il and was nearly exhausted when she left the darkness for the orderly quiet of the Wind Tower, where Varthlokkur was half lost inside the Winterstorm. The others were just waiting. The Disciple and his Matayangan friend, whom she continued to pretend not to recognize, crowded a shadowed alcove, shivering. Ethrian, Lord Kuo, and the Old Man sat around the shogi table. A game was in progress but nobody was paying attention.
She asked, “They al got out, then?”
Lord Kuo: “Some took more convincing than others.
Ekaterina in particular. But we got her to understand that she would go regardless of what had to be done to make that happen.”
Mist eyed Ethrian, one eyebrow raised.
Ethrian said, “I was too big for even Michael Trebilcock to shift since he already had his hands ful with your wildcat daughter.”
Mist could not restrain a smile. “She has potential.”
“Scalza only argued a little.”
The Old Man said, “That one calculates.”
“Yes.” She eyed Varthlokkur. The wizard was so busy he had yet to acknowledge her presence. “How soon? Do we know?”
Wen-chin said, “There are demons in the air now, carrying iron statues. We can’t track himself so we’l have to wait for him to get inside visual range. Always assuming that he comes in person.”
Mist nodded. She did not doubt that Old Meddler would want to stand witness to his wickedness. She was
