the wizard’s knowledge of what had happened to Prince Gaia-Lange and Princess Carolan, before he did his slide.
Or maybe neither of them would escape the tribesmen slowly surrounding them. They were not the friendly sort of Marena Dimura common in Kavelin’s mountains.
These people were, for al their determined isolation, not whol y ignorant of the modern century. They knew what a pink globe in the sky meant. They knew those concerned about survival exercised extreme care around the Empire Destroyer. They failed to be sufficiently intimidated, though, to select the more sensible course and just stay away.
Young warriors had to show their courage. Being young, natural y, they disdained the obvious exaggerations about the Empire Destroyer.
There were sorcerers in their tribe, seen every day.
Those old frauds were not scary. They could barely make milk curdle, and that took time when it was cold out.
So half a dozen youngsters lost their hair, including beards and eyebrows, as they prepared to rush the outlanders. Lucky boys. They ran into Varthlokkur’s wards before Haroun’s. The latter would have granted an opportunity to participate in a mass funeral.
The elders ordered everyone back. The outsiders ignored the tribesmen, then, while they extended the same courtesy in return.
The Unborn needed two days to recover. Thereafter it leapfrogged them, fifty miles to a man, wilderness site to wilderness site, but making a common camp during times of rest. Varthlokkur tried to sel Haroun on a scheme that he would not explain in concrete form, saying only that there was an evil as old and foul as smal pox that needed extirpation. He would not name that evil’s name.
His own non-plans aborted, bin Yousif did agree to withhold any refusal til he had spoken with other members of the cabal.
He determined the identity of the unnamed target quickly enough. “This sounds like a mirror image of that old devil’s schemes.”
“That’s true.”
“But his plots reach inside institutions. The Pracchia was everywhere, inside everything, like a plague. To be a real reflection you’d have to create reliable turncoats amongst his associates.”
The wizard nodded. “Also true, and unlikely to happen—
with one exception. But there are some living men we know he’s touched. Your son and your father-in-law, for example.
Neither may signify anymore. Neither seems to be anything but a pawn. Neither amounts to a mile marker on the road to the heart of darkness anymore.”
“Let me think about them.”
“You wil participate?”
“You have the best answer I can give. I’l cooperate provisional y. Where are you taking me? Somewhere way up north, obviously. You haven’t told me who you want me to see, either. Why should I take you on faith?”
“What I don’t tel you, you can’t tel anyone else.” Bin Yousif nodded. “I see.”
“I hope so.”
“Or maybe I don’t.”
The wizard knew he had to give up something. “Our destination is the Wind Tower at Fangdred.”
“I remember the fortress. I remember the Candareen. I was a festering young fool, then.”
Varthlokkur smiled.
“But that fool was blessed by Fortune. He survived to become this old fool of today. I look forward to seeing what changes time has scribbled on that monument to my youthful indiscretion.”
“You’re going to be disappointed. You’re remembering another mountain and another fortress, Ravenkrak. Which was on top of the Candareen. I don’t believe you’ve ever seen Fangdred, which balances precariously on top of El Kabar.”
Bin Yousif ’s recol ections were confused. He saw nothing even remotely familiar when the Unborn brought him to Fangdred, and that was not just because of the aerial perspective. The wizard was right. He had not been here before.
Unlike most of Radeachar’s clients, bin Yousif enjoyed the aerial view. He was less comfortable inside Fangdred, with al those people, few of whom he knew and some of whom had put the hel into the last few years of his life.
Wandering through the castle, fol owed by the whelp of the grand she-king of the east, barked at if he thought about touching something, Haroun decided that he real y wanted to get on to the next phase of this scheme. Unless he was clever enough to slip out and vanish.
Even after having been briefed he did not completely understand. These crazies wanted to eliminate the perpetual world plague sometimes cal ed the Old Meddler.
Laudable ambition, but one that stood no chance of attainment. Might as wel aspire to resurrect Ilkazar in al its cruel glory, or to throw a saddle on a whirlwind.
The wizard had let fal the fact that it was hard to track Haroun inside Hammad al Nakir. He just might make sure that was even harder once he got back there.
He thought he would be headed there soon. These people did not show much of their hands but he had no need to see much to penetrate their thinking. He knew how such minds worked. He had one himself.
He might even see Yasmid again.
He looked forward to that.
...
Inger indulged in a quick final consultation with Josiah, Nathan, and Babeltausque. That morning, early, the news was uniformly bright. Virulent factions had yet to develop.
Delegates were paying for what they wanted. Taxes were being col ected. The locals yielded theirs up with smiles.
Prosperity threatened. Indications were, most of those gathered for the Thingmeet real y did want to abort any return of the chaos that had prevailed after the disappearance of the King.
“Stop fussing,” Josiah told her. “You’l do fine. Just step out and tel them what you told me. They’l give you your say.”
She eyed Fulk, half-asleep in his little chair, dressed in clothes that had been fashionable when Gaia-Lange wore them long ago. There had been no money for anything new.
Josiah went on being reassuring. “I’l be with him. He doesn’t have to do anything but show himself. If nobody makes a fuss he won’t get distressed and suffer an attack.
How is he now?” The Colonel looked hard at Doctor Wachtel.
“You are correct, Colonel. I gave him his medication.” The old man kept answering his cal ing despite the stress of being a known foe lurking near Fulk and Inger. Inger firmly believed him incapable of violence. She was correct.
Wachtel would do no physical harm to forward his politics.
Gales dropped to a knee before Fulk, made tiny adjustments to the boy’s ruff. “Remember what to do?” The boy nodded. He was a little scared and a lot nervous, but serious and determined as only a smal child can be.
“Good. So. People. Let’s do it.”
Babeltausque went first, as an intimidator. The rumble of a hundred conversations began to diminish.
Nathan slipped away to circulate and eavesdrop.
Out Fulk went, fol owed by Gales, then by Inger. The boy took his position, in view of everyone. He did not show the distress that Josiah had feared—in part because his eyes were not good. He could not make out most of the faces turned his way.
Inger stepped to the rostrum, released a smal , near-whimper. Her vision was excel ent. She saw every face just fine. Many belonged to men who wished her il fortune. She began her speech disconnected from its content and intent as she tried to execute Babeltausque’s advice about meeting the eyes of every audience member at least once.
She did fine til she came to the delegation from Sedlmayr.
