“But… I wasn’t informed…”
“It won’t take long. He’s just across the river. We leapfrogged getting here.” He spied Radeachar in the distance, approaching slowly, at a considerable altitude.
...
Ragnarson was tired and not feeling particularly patient.
It was past his customary bedtime. He had nothing to say, either, though he suspected he had no languages in common with his companions.
Though not dressed it, the younger man was Tervola and had to be in disgrace to be locked up here. The other, who never spoke and did nothing but study a shogi board, seemed vaguely familiar.
Neither introduced himself. Fine by him. He stood by a window, vainly hoping to see something of the city. He saw only the same nothing from a more acute angle.
A strong pink light waxing and waning told him the Unborn was active out there.
Why? What was going on?
He would find out when that suited someone’s whim.
The door opened. People entered. The first two were legionnaires armed and armored for the sorcerous battlefield. Behind came two tal men in western dress, then the Candidate who managed the tower, then three more armed men. The soldiers spread out. The Candidate said,
“The Il ustrious wil be here shortly. Scribes. Your presence wil not be required.”
Two nearly invisible little men, not of the ruling race of Shinsan, gathered their writing materials and exited.
Ragnarson paid no attention. He stared—glared—at the westerners. First was Varthlokkur, looking distinctly uncomfortable. A step behind him came Michael Trebilcock, looking far older than his actual age. He had gained weight, gone grey, developed a limp, and acquired a sense of style suited to the common man.
Both gravitated toward Ragnarson, though the wizard had fixed on the old man hunched over the shogi board.
Trebilcock extended a hand. Varthlokkur did not.
Ragnarson shook. Trebilcock said, “Reports said you might have survived but I never quite believed them. It didn’t make sense.” Which made it clear that the raid on the tower had not been initiated by Michael Trebilcock.
“Not much that goes on here does.” Ragnarson and the wizard went on staring one another down.
Trebilcock said, “The stupidest thing you can do is hang onto stupidity already committed. Particularly when even congenital y stupid folks see that you were stupid and you’re going right on being stupid.”
Ragnarson broke eye contact. Neither he nor the wizard addressed their conflict nor responded to Trebilcock. They had, silently and tacitly, agreed to put al that in the past, for now.
Ragnarson asked the wizard, “How is the boy?”
“Coming back, but slowly. His mother is more optimistic than I am.” The wizard stared at the old man.
Ragnarson asked, “You know him? He seems familiar, somehow.”
“He should be. From Fangdred. You probably didn’t see much of him at the time, though.”
“That was a long time ago. Michael, I heard you were dead, too, but your name always came up whenever anything happened that nobody could explain.”
“The world is supposed to think I’m dead.” Trebilcock turned to look at the new arrivals.
Ragnarson recognized Lord Ssu-ma but not his companion, a Tervola of extreme age. Varthlokkur, though, did. He headed for the man as though excited.
Ragnarson glanced at Trebilcock. Michael shrugged. “Any idea what we’re doing here?”
“Nary a clue, though this is where they keep me. How come you’re with him?”
“I’m not sure. He’s been freeloading and getting underfoot since he walked into my shop looking for something else.
He doesn’t explain himself. No clue at al ?”
“None. This is new. But there is one odd note. Other than Varthlokkur and the two who just walked out, everybody here is supposed to be dead.”
Trebilcock frowned. “I don’t know anyone but you and him.
Most people do think you and I are dead. There was a hot rumor about you a while back but it blew over when you never turned up.”
“How come you’re dead? Why aren’t you helping Inger?”
“Truth? You may not like it.”
“Try me.”
“She didn’t deserve help. I tried. I cut her miles of slack.
She couldn’t stop being a Greyfel s. So now the only people she has left are ones who didn’t have the bal s to run away.” Wistful y, Ragnarson said, “She was so fine when I met her.”
Michael responded with a conspiratorial smile. “That would be back when she was just another woman amongst women you hadn’t yet had.”
“Yeah. Before the world made her over. Before I opened the gate to hel .”
He watched Lord Ssu-ma introduce the ancient Tervola to the Tervola in civilian dress. The former, plainly, was astonished to find the other in good health.
Varthlokkur returned. “That old man was one of my teachers. He was a youngster then, though. We were as nearly friends as could be where one was a fast-rising technical genius and the other an emotional cripple with extreme potential. I’m amazed that he’s stil with us. He claims they won’t let him die because he knows more about the transfer streams than any dozen of his staffers combined.”
Ragnarson showed Trebilcock a set of raised eyebrows.
This excited wizard was not the Varthlokkur either of them knew.
Trebilcock asked, “He say anything about why we’re here?” The wizard shook his head.
Trebilcock said, “As usual, he knows more than he’s tel ing.”
Ragnarson said, “Whatever, they’re taking it to the highest level. The other Tervola is Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i. He’s Mist’s number one military guy.”
“She’s up to something.”
Varthlokkur said, “Her father was the Demon Prince.
Imperial founder Tuan Hoa was her grandfather. She has made herself empress twice. She was born, ‘Up to something.’ She’l die when something she’s up to bites her head off.”
The legionnaires along the far wal , beside the entrance, snapped to attention. They had not done so before, even for Lord Ssu-ma.
The Candidate bel owed, “The Most Il ustrious…” Mist patted his left cheek. “They know who I am, Lein She.” She told her chief lifeguard, “You may leave, now.” Neither he nor his men moved.
“Daring,” Ragnarson said. “They do have the right but, man, wil they pay later!”
Mist was irked in the extreme. Obviously, she thought the safety of her secrets trumped that of her person. And it was plain that she did not want to press the issue. That would require compulsion and, likely, lead to a dearth of volunteers for the lifeguard company.
Michael Trebilcock observed, “That wasn’t smart. She must be under a lot of stress.”
Ragnarson grunted agreement.
Varthlokkur asked, “What do you mean?”
“She should have anticipated the problem. She should have worked it out ahead of time.”
“Maybe she did. Maybe it’s supposed to show us how determined her lifeguards are.”
Ragnarson did not think so. What it might mean down the road would depend on the characters of the men gathered here—and might depend on the purpose of the gathering, as wel .
Mist chose to pretend that she had provoked her lifeguards deliberately. She said, “We’re here to talk about the entity who rides the flying horse. Don’t use any of his customary names. He may have placed spel s that wil alert him if he’s mentioned directly by someone he thinks might cause him grief.”
Silence fol owed.
“I want to destroy him. I know it’s been tried before. Failing destruction, I mean to disarm or to weaken him. Failing that, I mean to gather a body of information so large and spread out so widely that it wil survive any effort
