yourselves out. So. Al right. Are any of you prepared to declare yourselves in?”
Lords Ssu-ma and Yuan did not lift their hands. Lord Yuan she understood. This was political. He was not a political person. He would do as he was told once the political choices had been made. He would go baying after the research possibilities.
The only way Old Meddler could suborn Lord Yuan would be to promise him al the secrets of the transfer streams, which was beyond his power to do. Every historical indicator suggested that those streams were divine artifacts not only alien to the Star Rider but possibly even actively inimical.
Her researches had been limited but she had found no reference to any interaction between the Star Rider and the transfer streams, yet that digging had her thinking that the Windmjirnerhorn had to operate on a related principal. The riches that thing spil ed had to come from somewhere.
She said, “During our wars with the west the entity we wil not name once thwarted everyone by using the Poles of Power to kil al sorcery for a brief time. Do any of you know anything about them?”
No one volunteered anything. She peered at Varthlokkur, sure he must know more than she did. He said nothing.
“Al right. The thinking used to be that the Windmjirnerhorn was one of the Poles. That’s probably not true. I can find no reason to believe it. It is certain though, that one is something cal ed the Tear of Mimizan.” She surveyed both attentive and marginal y bored faces.
“My late husband and his brothers served the Monitor of Escalon during Escalon’s war with Shinsan. Once it became obvious that defeat was inevitable the Monitor slipped the Tear to my brother-in-law Turran. There is nothing on record to explain how or why the Tear came into the possession of the Monitor. My suspicion is, he got it from a certain old vil ain who thereby created false hope that extended the struggle and guaranteed a good deal more destruction. Turran had the Tear smuggled west to Bragi Ragnarson’s first wife, Elana.” It would not be politick to mention that Turran had had a considerable affection for Elana. Bragi would not be pleased by any public reminder that she had been murdered while in bed with Mist’s brother-in-law “She didn’t know what she had. Others suspected, though not how important the trinket might actual y be. But never mind al that. I want to know what became of the Tear.”
Lord Yuan lifted a hand tentatively.
“Lord Yuan?”
“You proffer an essential y traditional view of the Poles. It may not be correct.”
“Lord?”
“A strong case can be made for the transfer streams being one of the Poles. Possibly the more important Pole.
Leakage may be what al sorcerers feed on. Leakage could be the Power itself.”
Mist was not about to debate Lord Yuan. He knew this subject better than the rest of the room combined. “Wil you explain that in words fit for a simpleton? I don’t fol ow.” Near as she could tel , neither did anyone else, excepting possibly the Old Man. And his nod might be due to sleepiness.
“As you wish, Il ustrious. I believe the Power we use in our sorcery is actual y leakage from transfer streams that have become old and inefficient through lack of care, just as irrigation or navigation canals wil become porous and leaky if not adequately maintained. Mathematical y, we shouldn’t be able to access the Power at al , nor even the transfer streams. Those are, I am convinced, far more complicated than commonly assumed. We see them only in the workaday dimensions, like a network of creeks and canals we use to row our boats from place to place. They may, in fact, be the bones of the universe. Or something beyond anything the human mind can imagine. The Tear of Mimizan and, possibly, the Windmjirnerhorn, may be keys or control devices.”
The ancient may have suffered an epiphany. Or a stroke.
He did go stil and silent. It was plain that he did not plan to say anything more right now.
Mist said, “Excuse Lord Yuan. He does this. Anyone else care to contribute? Lord Ssu-ma? You’ve been particularly subdued. Would you like to explain?”
“I have no thoughts of consequence, Il ustrious. I am a pig farmer’s son. It is beyond my capacity to encompass how this proposition can benefit the Empire if we pursue it with a vigor actual y necessary to bring us to confrontation with him so terrible we dare not name his name.” He had a point. “I see. You so fear the potential cost to the Empire that you concede defeat beforehand.”
“Considering the historical evidence, that temptation is there.”
“Would you have felt the same about the Deliverer had you not been ordered to take charge of a campaign already begun?”
She waited while he gave the unfair question honest consideration.
“I might have had I known the ful story of the monster behind the Deliverer while not knowing that we had no choice but to fight.”
Mist said nothing. She wanted more. She thought he could not help but fil a vacuum now. And so he did.
“I spent my life teaching the Empire’s most promising youngsters, knowing that nine of ten would die badly. I did not think that it had to be that way. The Empire did not need to be at war every day, al the time. Our unreasoning passion for conquest drove us to where we are today, exhausted and on the brink of col apse.” Mist nodded. Shih-ka’i exaggerated but she did not disagree with his sentiments. The Empire had paid an awful price for its recent successes. But it was true that now there were no longer any enemies who could do the Empire serious harm, other than the Star Rider.
Old Meddler always acted through proxies. The col apse of the Pracchia conspiracy had left him with few of those.
Magden Norath had been the last of any significance.
Today’s most terrible danger might stil be ambition in the Tervola class. The respected old men said they were reining the madness in, because it had cost Shinsan so dearly, but the treachery disease would continue in a certain kind of heart. And Old Meddler might pluck those strings to compose some nocturne where the empire once again turned upon itself.
Mist grimaced. She would have to be as harsh as her father and grandfather had been. Nothing less would serve.
Some people just asked to be kil ed.
She said, “You took up the struggle against the Deliverer because you were directed to do so. I understand. I’l rely on a similar formula in the matter of him who toys with the world.”
She paused. She had begun to improvise. And that had hatched an interesting notion. “Lord Kuo. You wil assume responsibility for the staff side. Plan. Coordinate. Find resources. You know the staff role. Lord Ssu-ma wil be responsible for execution.”
None of the Tervola missed the significance of her cal ing Wen-chin “Lord.” Good.
Lord Ssu-ma bowed, resigned. “As you command, so shal it be, Il ustrious. That settled, may I ask about the others gathered here?”
“I hope to employ their skil s, genius, and knowledge. I am counting on Lord Yuan to improve our arsenal substantial y.” Did that sound too rehearsed?
She had had little to do with Lord Yuan til recently. Lately, though, he had begged frequently to be freed from workaday responsibilities so he could concentrate on ferreting out secrets of the transfer streams. Which inevitably preceded an appeal for more funds.
In that he was not unusual.
Mist said, “I wil step aside and let you brainstorm now. Or complain, or argue, according to your nature.” She paid little attention. There was not much to hear. No one wanted to say anything. Mist began to contemplate Lein She and her lifeguards.
Michael Trebilcock told her, “Don’t give in.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ignore that temptation. They’re good men.” Had he been reading her mind?
“You don’t need to trust them. Watch them. If they fail you they may lead you somewhere interesting.” Or not. They had been selected randomly, excepting Lein She, and the tower raid would have weaned him from any service to an outside agency—assuming Old Meddler was the ultimate cause of al that blood.
It would cost little to fol ow Michael’s advice.
...
