to report,
“Aunt Nepanthe found that Haroun man you were looking for. A while ago, actual y. We wanted to let you know but you didn’t leave instructions on how to get hold of you.” Varthlokkur set his teacup down, surveyed faces. Only Smyrena, who had grown dramatical y and was walking, in his lap and sleeping right now, showed no degree of accusation. “Proof we never get too old to learn.” Several things had left him unable to think of something so basic, the greater being a centuries-deep habit of living alone. Add his determination to protect Nepanthe from the cruel eyes of reality, and there you went. The home folks could not contact him, whatever their need.
He said, “That won’t happen again.”
Ekaterina considered him with right eyebrow raised. His gaze slipped aside as he admitted, “No doubt I wil find some other, more creative way to fail you al .” He could not help noticing that the girl had begun to mature. She would not have the advantages her mother had but would be a stunner, even so. He thought of Babeltausque, which stirred a frisson of horror. That girl of the sorcerer’s, Carrie Depar, was only slightly older than Eka—though, because she was who she was, Ekaterina might just ambush the beast.
Or, maybe not. Eka had no true concept of the ugliness prowling the broader world.
“Uncle?”
“Never mind. My head is on sideways today. I keep thinking about the awful things that can happen instead of the good.
Which just makes me a sad old pessimist who doesn’t deserve such wonderful people around him.” A younger pessimist grumbled, “Better put our old shoes on, sis. It smel s like it’s going to get deep.” Varthlokkur gawked. That kid was too damned young to be cynical or scatological. What was he doing when his aunt was not there to observe? The staff were not al refined people.
The wizard said, “Enough, then. Let’s go spy on bin Yousif.”
...
Radeachar brought a purpose-built transfer portal to Fangdred on Mist’s behalf. Later, the monster delivered a sobbing Tang Shan, soaked in urine and feces. The Tervola suffered from a bone-deep terror of heights. He got passing out drunk right away. Twelve hours later, bathed, calmed by the lady of the castle, hung over, he began the work he had been sent to do. By then Varthlokkur and the Unborn had gone away on a secret journey.
The portal delivered was designed to put two people through in quick succession before it lay fal ow for several minutes. That effect was the result of Lord Yuan’s efforts to prevent outside tampering or espionage.
First to come through were Mist and a massive bodyguard. The man was painful y uncomfortable in the cold, thin air.
Nepanthe saw the remoteness of Mist’s children nearly break the woman’s heart, though she did a grand job of hiding her disappointment. In a private moment, though, she asked Nepanthe, “What can I do to kindle the affections of those two?”
Nepanthe was snuggling Smyrena. Scalza was hunched over his scrying bowl. Ekaterina had isolated Ethrian near the Winterstorm and was talking a mile a minute, yet shyly, probably saying nothing at great length. The women watched, Mist puzzled, Nepanthe pleased and hopeful.
Ethrian sometimes talked back when no one was close enough to hear. Eka claimed he said nothing of substance even on good days. Mostly he asked what had become of Sahmaman.
Nepanthe thought there was more. Eka was guarding a special relationship jealously.
Nepanthe had become a devotee of the stroke theory.
Stroke was in the family. It had claimed some elder relatives and an aunt. She was terrified for Ethrian. What if he was stil a ful y functional, thinking being imprisoned inside a brain and body that would not let him interact with the outside world?
The horror.
When she dwelt on that possibility she became dreadful y claustrophobic. If not soon distracted she became physical y il .
She answered Mist’s question. “Your best tools are patience and perseverance, plus rigorous devotion—when your Imperial role al ows you the time.” Nepanthe thought the recent outbreak of peace ought to free Mist for occasional personal moments.
Mist sighed. “Nepanthe, I miss Valther. Gods, I miss that man.”
“As do I.” Amazed because there were actual tears in the eyes of the most powerful woman in the world.
A bel clunked. The transfer portal hummed, then groaned.
The Old Man stepped out, took two steps, froze, looked round in wonder. He remembered. He had come home.
The ancient’s companion came through right behind him, stumbled into him, held him up, gawked himself. He turned slowly.
Nepanthe muttered, “Maybe we shouldn’t have put that transfer thing in here with Varth’s other stuff.” The most recent arrival focused on the Winterstorm, awed.
Nepanthe thought he might start drooling.
Mist reassured her. “Be confident that he made sure surrendering to temptation can’t possibly turn out wel .”
“Oh. Of course.”
Ethrian final y looked past Ekaterina to see what the activity was al about. His face went blank and pale. Several seconds later it revealed signs of intense internal stress fol owed by an explosion of inner light.
Nepanthe gaped when Ethrian seized Eka’s left hand, as though needing an anchor, and headed for the Old Man.
The Old Man sensed his approach, rounded toward the Winterstorm. Ethrian stared down into his eyes from scarcely two feet away.
The same light exploded inside the Old Man.
His companion joined the women. “This appears to have been the perfect strategy, Il ustrious.”
“It has begun wel , Lord Kuo. Nepanthe? What do you think?”
Nepanthe’s focus was on Ethrian’s right hand. He had grasped Ekaterina’s left so firmly that the girl was grimacing. She did not protest, however, and did not try to shake loose. If anything, she moved closer, possibly so she would be in the same visual frame as Ethrian, insofar as the newcomer could see.
Ethrian said something to the Old Man. Nepanthe was too far away to make it out but believed that he had expressed a complete and coherent thought.
Man and boy stared at one another. A slow smile formed on the Old Man’s lips. He said something, too. Nepanthe thought he looked like a man who had just won a great victory, against impossible odds.
The joy in both soon faded. Neither was in a sound enough state to go on interacting at any more complex level.
Nepanthe’s long sorrow burst through in a trickle of tears.
Mist told her, “Don’t be sad. That was a huge success. It was proof that neither one of them has lost his past.
Bringing them back may just require perseverance.”
“I know. I understand. But the mother in me was hoping for more.” And maybe something less, too.
Ekaterina had her hand back, now, and was rubbing life into stil pale flesh.
Was Mist blind? She had not noticed the hands part at al .
The portal bel clunked. That had been a longer delay, that time, Nepanthe suspected.
The portal hummed like a big, happy beehive. Two men came through, disoriented and frightened. Nepanthe found both unfamiliar. Neither was Tervola. Both were frightened.
Mist explained, “These are the mind specialists. Let me go tel them how Ethrian and the Old Man reacted when they first saw one another.”
Now they seemed to have forgotten one another. Lord Kuo had produced a shogi set. He and the Old Man were looking for a place to set up.
Nepanthe beckoned Ekaterina. “Did Ethrian hurt you? Let me see your hand.”
The girl extended it. “It’l be al right. Maybe a bruise. It was worth it to see him light up like that, even if it was just for a minute.”
