ago that they don’t even echo in our mythologies today. He seems especial y focused on something cal ed the Nawami Crusades. Heard of that?”
“Obliquely, during the skirmish with the Deliverer.” She considered the Old Man, who did not seem to mind being discussed. “How is his attitude toward the Star Rider?” She enunciated careful y, testing the Old Man’s hearing.
He heard her just fine. He started. Then his shoulders slumped. He shrank into himself.
“I see.” Then, “Could his dawn-time memories be more useful than anything recent? What say you?”
“An argument could be made, I’m sure.”
“Only a few of us know he’s alive. I’m sure the Star Rider isn’t one. Starting tomorrow you’l be dogged by scribes.
They wil record everything, especial y recovered memories. Copies wil be made, distributed, and scattered as fast as possible. More copies wil be made elsewhere, with some being hidden. If we suffer the fate of al of Old Meddler’s previous enemies we wil , at least, leave a legacy too vast and in too many forms to eradicate. One that might be used by a future generation.” Wen-chin rose, stretched, bowed. “So shal it be.” Then,
“Make sure your scribes know how to keep out of the way.”
“They wil .”
Scribes were always unobtrusive when they served those at high levels. That was a skil as critical as excel ent penmanship.
Wen-chin seated himself. He made a move that pleased the Old Man. He grumbled, “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
...
Ragnarson was in a good temper. He thought he had his inner conflicts worked out. He had been exercising, too.
He supposed he could walk a mile without col apsing now.
He asked Mist, “Has something happened?”
“Mostly not, real y. It’s more like we’re winding down everywhere.” “Calm before the storm?”
“Possibly, in my head. And maybe in Varthlokkur’s.
Probably hoping
that it is, the Star Rider. The rest of the world is sitting back and putting its feet up.”
“Sounds like a good thing.”
“I wouldn’t disagree. But I do know that Old Meddler is out there and he hasn’t given up his wicked ways.” Ragnarson grunted. That was not meant to communicate anything.
Mist asked, “You have any thoughts on that subject?” Ragnarson grunted again. “None charitable toward him. But I don’t have any toward the wind or rain, either. Weather is a fact of life. So is Old Meddler.” Then, “I saw him once, you know.”
Mist frowned. “And? A lot of people have.”
“They hadn’t, back then. Some of Nepanthe’s brothers and El Murid were about al . It was during one of the fights in the Savernake Gap. The time the Power went away. He was way up high overhead. I only picked him out for a second, I’m pretty sure because he screwed up. Nobody was supposed to know he was interfering.”
He guessed his confession meant nothing here. Mist had gone away inside her head while he was talking.
She came back a new woman, ful of energy and excitement. “I’ve had an epiphany. And I’ve made up my mind. You’re going back to Kavelin even if you are stil crazy. I’l put a leash on you so I can calm you down if you need it. We have to end the chaos. We need stability and strength. Some things can’t be al owed to relax. Some things have to be kept together.”
Ragnarson confessed, “You’ve lost me completely.” She was not listening.
...
The Empress ran her lifeguards ragged. She was manic. She darted round the empire til she found Lord Ssu-ma. She spent an intense hour with the pig farmer’s son, then scampered back to the Karkha Tower for a slightly less intense sit-down with Kuo Wen-chin. It would have been more efficient to do that before she looked for Lord Ssu-ma but she had been excited and just had to see Shih-ka’i first. He was now the man she most trusted in this world—despite his deceit in the matter of Kuo Wen-chin.
And that had begun to look like an inspired bit of insubordination.
From the Karkha Tower she raced off to see Lord Yuan Tin Yuan, rousing that ancient from the bed that was the one luxury he al owed himself. Fol owing a long chat she plunged into the night in a Kaveliner graveyard.
Nothing had changed there. Nothing had been done to keep Shinsan from walking the transfer streams into Kavelin.
However…
The mausoleum portal had been sabotaged so that it could not be used to make a getaway. “Which might not demonstrate clarity of reasoning by whoever did the damage,” Mist told portal technician Tang Shan, who had accompanied her. “Snap this trap on the wrong prey, you could end up wishing you’d left them a half-dozen holes to get back out.”
The technician was not smitten by her bril iance. He nodded vacantly and focused on finding the problem. Mist led her lifeguards out into the night.
A pink dot appeared in the direction of Vorgreberg seconds later. She remarked, “That didn’t take long.” The dot headed their way.
Closer, something stirred amongst the tombstones, hurried away. It was something sizable but left too fast to be identified. It might have been a deer. Deer did graze among the tombstones. The grasses were sweet and some flowers left by the living made tasty treats.
An owl said something suitably mournful not far away. A bat swooshed within grabbing distance.
A lifeguard drove a short infantry thrusting spear into the ground. Another tied a courier case to its butt using the cord the infantryman would keep tied to his wrist so his weapon would not get lost if his grip failed.
“Good enough.” Mist led the way back into the mausoleum as the Unborn drew close enough to be seen as something less pleasant than a pink light.
One added level of clever lay behind the sabotage. If she got away that indicated the existence of another portal.
Unless…
Genius Tang Shan reported, “Somebody drove a sliver the size of a toothpick in beside the access modal. The catch was jammed. We’re al set now.”
“Great work, Tang Shan,” Mist said. “So, let’s get the hel gone. That thing turned up faster than I expected.”
...
Varthlokkur approached Throyes cautiously. It was nighttime, of course, and there was no moon out. No need to let people down there get a good look at what the Unborn was hauling. Troubling enough that they would see the monster itself.
Radeachar deposited him atop the Karkha Tower. He waited while the lookout went for the man in charge. The Candidate took his time. Varthlokkur did not recal his name. He arrived moving slowly and with considerable care. He had not yet recovered ful y from wounds suffered earlier in the year. He talked slowly, too, enunciating careful y, apparently unaware that Varthlokkur had spent his youth in Shinsan and spoke the principal dialect quite wel .
The wizard did not set the Candidate straight. Little advantages must be hoarded.
The Candidate said, “The Il ustrious is not here right now. I am to make you comfortable in one of our apartments til she can grace us with her presence.”
Was he out of touch with the language after al ? “Are you being sarcastic, Candidate?”
The very suggestion appal ed the young man. “Sir? No!
Why would you even consider that?”
“I withdraw the question. I forgot the impact she can have.
Indulge me, if you wil . I have chosen to bring an associate. I would like to wait here til Radeachar brings him in.”
