Something odd, there, though. It started out light but quickly became creepy. “He never needs changing so she stil won’t have to learn how to deal with babies. She’l never have to get her fingers dirty.”
Her tone left al her audience disturbed.
...
Mist realized that Ekaterina’s remarks would make no sense even to her if she thought about them, but, stil , they served up a steaming dol op of emotional truth. Not once had she gotten her hands soiled serving the needs of her infant children. It had been a rare and remarkable hour when circumstance or deliberation found her in the same room with either or both before they could walk and talk. But that reflected of her own earliest years—and most of the years that fol owed. She did not remember her mother. Her father had been a huge, grim, infrequently suffered manifestation more fearful than any kami or demon. She had anticipated his rare visits with massive anxiety.
These whiners endured a childhood far more family-intimate than hers had been.
Ekaterina’s remarks appeared to amuse Varthlokkur and Scalza while baffling everyone else. Those closest to being in the know, Lords Kuo and Yuan, were indifferent.
They did not care if the blood of Tuan Hoa fil ed the monster’s veins, if blood the thing even had. There was no sign that it ever took sustenance in tangible form. They had noticed that. It did not eat; neither did it shit.
That was scary once a Tervola reflected on the implications. It troubled Mist now that it occurred to her.
Eka had gotten a reaction big enough to encourage her to go on being absurd. “So not only is Radeachar our uncle, he’s probably ahead of us in Shinsan’s succession. He should be king of Kavelin, too. He has the blood- right.
Queen Fiana was his mother. Uncle Bragi only got the job later, by being elected.”
Mist snapped, “Eka, stop being ridiculous.”
“I know. Nobody would want him, despite his claims. He isn’t pretty enough and he doesn’t have good social skil s.” Scalza grinned broadly, enjoying the vintage Eka. “But his legal claim is solid.”
Varthlokkur settled a hand on the girl’s shoulder, startling her. “Eka, the law, in most cases, isn’t what’s in compendiums. It’s what the man with the most swords says it is on any given day.”
Eka countered with a demoniac grin. “Oh, I know, Uncle. I’m just making old people squirm.” Another amused tinkle, without the dire finish. She headed for her cousin, frown hatching because he was engaged in an actual conversation without her there to monitor, manage, and protect.
Mist suspected it was time to watch that girl more closely.
She herself had started getting into mischief at that age.
On the up side, no one was out to eliminate Eka because her existence was inconvenient, nor did the world include anyone Eka favored for death.
Hel , practical y everybody she knew was here, now, and considered her a weird, shy mascot or queer little sister.
No time for al that. Varthlokkur was at the map, muttering with Scalza. The Star Rider remained conspicuously invisible in a region that the Winterstorm, attenuated by distance, could barely touch.
Mist joined them. Lord Yuan, too, caught some etheric cue and came to the map.
Varthlokkur said, “He’s gone to ground in the Place of the Iron Statues. My recol ections of that are vague but I think they’re good enough for me to fashion a baseline strategy.” Scalza said, “I’l bet the Old Man went there lots of times.”
“We’l see what he has to offer.”
Mist asked, “Are we involved in something that you’l tel us about?”
He smiled. “Suppose I pose the identical question to you?” Mist forced a smile. “I am striving to move ahead vigorously while not catching the devil’s eye. I want him to overlook me til I stab him in the back.”
“While he’s concentrating on me.”
“Stipulated. You haven’t kept a low profile.”
“Al part of the plan, which continues to evolve. Lord Yuan, I have a special need for your assistance.”
“Again.”
“It’s the curse of being the best. Here is my current thinking.”
The wizard’s strategy was based on his estimation of Old Meddler’s character as profiled by the mental specialists.
Their assessment rested on what they had learned from Ethrian, the Disciple, and the Old Man, the latter in the main. The Old Man was entirely vindictive toward his one-time comrade.
Varthlokkur admitted, “He keeps doing the unexpected. He may be grinning from ear to ear because I’m about to strut into a big swamp ful of crocodiles.”
Mist checked the Old Man. If that one got a hold on reality often enough… Old Meddler had lost his al egiance the night that her father died and had worsened his odor with his unhappy actions on that eastern island.
The Old Man did not hate his erstwhile al y. He just wanted an end to his own and the world’s torment.
Varthlokkur beckoned the specialist handling the Old Man.
“Couple of things. First, get him into a shogi game with the boy. They feed off each other. Once they’re engaged try to find out if he ever revolted before. Details don’t matter, just the yes or no. Then feed his antagonism. Find out anything about the Place of the Iron Statues. I need to know how to get in.”
The specialist glanced at his employer, who nodded graciously. “I’l get on that right away, sir,” without asking if Varthlokkur wanted anything else. “Is speed essential?”
“It certainly would be useful.” Varthlokkur turned to Mist.
“This a good man.”
“Those who aren’t good men don’t get to work for the Empress.” She watched her daughter. Eka had heard. She moved closer to Ethrian, presumably to prepare him. Lord Kuo gestured with two fingers of his left hand. He would work on his friend.
After a second look at Wen-chin, Varthlokkur asked,
“What’s become of Shih-ka’i? He hasn’t been around much.”
“He has responsibilities elsewhere, including covering for me while I’m involved in this.” Which was absolute truth but not whole truth. Nor did the wizard accept it as whole truth.
He took a cynical attitude toward such claims. And, of course, his cynicism was justified. Mist added, “He isn’t as enthusiastic about this as I am so I’m letting him do what he can to free me to indulge my passion.”
“That makes sense.”
She observed, “I expect you’ve prepared for a raid by the old vil ain.”
“Yes. But I’m afraid that won’t be good enough. I can’t trust anyone but Radeachar to do what needs doing without jumping into the process.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that, if I give you an assignment you would probably decide you saw a better way and would try to use it, which would abort the process. I have to be two places at once to make what I want to do succeed. I haven’t figured out how, yet, let alone how to manage supposed helpers.”
“You could always attempt the absurd.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you could explain what you’re trying to do so people understand why it’s important that they don’t innovate. I know obsessive secretiveness is the norm for our kind, usual y with good reason. But survival imperatives should trump old habits, shouldn’t they?”
“Possibly.”
“Particularly when these others are being asked to share the risks.”
“It’s hard to find the needful capacity for trust.” Mist asked, “How much time do we have? Any guesses?”
“Anywhere from a few days to forever. I think he’l try to end the threat I represent directly and forceful y. I don’t think he’l waste time. He has to believe he’s vulnerable and can’t afford to be subtle. He operates inside a cloud of ignorance. I’m counting on that to make him vulnerable.” He surveyed his surroundings, added, “He doesn’t know about these people and can’t possibly be prepared to deal with every secret they might give up. But he does know about the Winterstorm and I expect that he’s given that lots of thought.”
