said. His face as serious as she’d ever seen it, Siuntio shook his head. Flustered, she turned and took a thick wool cloak from the cabinet that stood in the little entry hall. As she settled it on her shoulders, she spoke in a rough voice to cover her own embarrassment: “Let’s go, then.”
When she got downstairs, she discovered Siuntio hadn’t been joking. Ilmarinen was chatting up a pretty young woman whose slanted eyes, swarthy skin, and broad cheekbones were all Kuusaman, but who had auburn hair far more typical of a Lagoan. He blew her a kiss as he went off to join Siuntio and Pekka. “Just making certain she’s not a spy sent out from Setubal,” he said airily.
“Of course you were,” Siuntio answered. “I’m certain you intended to probe her very deeply.”
Ilmarinen started to nod, but Pekka’s giggle told him he’d missed something. After a heartbeat, he gave Siuntio a dirty look. “You think you’re funny,” he growled. “I think you’re in your second childhood, is what I think.”
“I almost wish I were,” Siuntio said. “Then I could have gone on living my life instead of screaming like a man on the rack at the supper table a few days ago. I alarmed the whole eatery, but not so badly as I alarmed myself.”
Ilmarinen grimaced. “Aye, it was bad,” he said. Pekka nodded. The memory of that moment would stay with her all her days. Ilmarinen sighed and went on, “We’d best be at it. The wench will wait. This business won’t.”
Chill air smote Pekka as she and Siuntio and Ilmarinen left the warmth of the Principality. A little snow lay on the sidewalks and in the streets of Yliharma. It was half melted and gray with soot. Kajaani lay on the southern side of the Vaattojarvi Hills. It took the full brunt of the storms rolling up from the land of the Ice People. The snow there was unlikely to melt till spring.
Horses’ hooves clopping, the carriage bore the three mages to the princely palace. It stood on the highest ground in Yliharma, having begun its history as a hill fort centuries before the Kaunians crossed the Strait of Valmiera farther west. Savants still dug below the far more splendid buildings gracing the hilltop these days, and sometimes came up with fascinating finds.
“What sort of man is Prince Rustolainen?” Pekka asked. “Living down in the south, I hear less of him than I’d like.”
“He’s not the sort to think the doings of the Prince of Yliharma belong in the news sheets, anyhow,” Siuntio said, at which Ilmarinen nodded. Siuntio went on, “He’s a solid sort, and far from a fool.”
“Less forward-looking than Joroinen,” Ilmarinen added. “He sees what is, not what he wants to be. But Siuntio’s right--he’s solid about what is.”
The Seven Princes of Kuusamo went in for less in the way of gaudy ceremonial than did the kings on the mainland of Derlavai--or Bang Vitor of Lagoas, for that matter. The usher who brought the mages before the Seven announced them as matter-of-factly as if he were presenting them to seven prominent merchants. Pekka went to one knee for a moment; Siuntio and Ilmarinen bowed.
Prince Joroinen said, “We need stand on no special ceremony here this morning.” He looked along the table behind which the Seven sat. No one contradicted him. The princes dressed more like prosperous merchants than rulers, too.
Prince Rustolainen sat in the center of the group, since they were gathered at his castle. Being the prince whose domain included Yliharma, he was the most powerful among the Seven no matter where he sat. He leaned forward, nodding to Siuntio. “Master mage, you have persuaded me to call my comrades together. I have explained the business as best I can, but I am no sorcerer. Tell it to them plain, as you told it to me.”
“They will have also heard from mages in their own domains, I expect,” Siuntio said, and some of the princes nodded. Siuntio went on, “In any case, it is less a matter of magecraft than of simple right and wrong. The Algarvians have turned to murder in their war against Unkerlant.”
“War is about murder,” Rustolainen said.
Siuntio shook his head. “So you said when I first brought this to your notice, your Highness. I told you then and I tell you now, war is about killing. A soldiers foe has a chance to slay him. The Algarvians took folk who could not possibly fight back and killed them for the sake of their life energy, which they then turned against King Swemmel’s armies. They go forward once more because of it, where they had been stopped.”
“How strong a magic can they make this way?” asked Prince Parainen, whose lands were in the far east, looking across the Bothnian Ocean toward Gyongyos.
“How many Kaunian captives do they care to kill?” Siuntio answered bluntly. “The greater the murder, the greater the magecraft.”
“Killing is easier than it used to be in
