She said, “I was getting very angry at you. No one told me anything. I really thought you might die. If you did, I would have . . .”
Precious Wind murmured, “It could smell fear. We needed you to be afraid. I’m sorry, but we needed you to be afraid . . .”
Abasio turned her and let her lie back against him, thanking every beneficent entity that it was over. “I didn’t know that little bit of information, Precious Wind. I thought it was just that everyone thought Xulai had quite enough to deal with, and we had to do a great deal of last-minute scurrying.”
Precious Wind nodded. “That, too. The creature was behaving just as the people in Tingawa had guessed it would. They said if it was deprived of its maintenance, it would have to fall into a pattern. Killing preceded maintenance. So it would kill, then try to find its maintenance location, then try to find the coffin thing, then put flesh directly into the tube portal, maybe even try to eat, then it would revert to killing again. It would gradually be weakening. We were all but positive it would work, Xulai. And it did.”
“It’s all just . . . it’s been . . . and now I feel very strange.” She relaxed against him, breathing deeply, her hands pressed firmly on her belly. “My stomach is acting very . . . strange!”
Justinian laid his hand on her belly, felt the kick. “Very strange,” he agreed, smiling, deciding he was glad he hadn’t had to die after all.
Chapter 11
The Sea Child
Immediately upon the destruction of the Old Dark Man, the cliff-side villagers had stopped wearing strange garments, acting in strange manners, and advocating strange ways of becoming beloved by the king. They no longer seemed to care particularly whether the king loved them or not. Xulai, Abasio, and Precious Wind spent some time among the little towns, distributing sea eggs, and Xulai had a lengthy conversation with the woman who had given Xulai the cake on her first journey up the cliff.
“We knew the duchess was dangerous,” the woman said. “We knew there was a monster; some of us talked to old people who had seen it when they were youngsters. The duchess claimed to represent the king, she claimed to express his wishes; she amused herself trying to find out how far we could be pushed. We had already decided to go as far as she wished. We kept her amused, though it was wearisome. We never knew when she might show up, so we had to play the part all the time even though she had shorter ways to go and come from the court. There are shaft entries up and down the slope at the north end of the road as well as at the top, in the Eastern Valley, so she didn’t come up the cliff road often.”
After the eggs were distributed, with many of the same delays and questions that had kept them for some time in Wellsport—though without the obligatory sea change—they returned to Woldsgard. There news had come, via travelers to and from Ghastain and Kamfels, that both Hulix and Rancitor were dead.
“We’ll never really know what killed them,” Xulai complained.
“I’d just as soon not know,” Abasio replied. “Everything tied together, we’re sure of that. Genetic patterns and mirrors and sending killing clouds, it all tied together. There may have been a device in the Old Dark House, perhaps in his cocoon, that maintained the pattern of the Old Dark Man and every creature that shared his pattern. When the Old Dark House was destroyed, the patterns simply fell apart, not all at once, but inexorably. I don’t need to know how. I’m just very glad they did.”
“Did you get the helmet back from Precious Wind?”
“Yes. I promised her I’d let the people in Tingawa look at it.”
“That’s good. They can probably learn a lot.”
Justinian was resuming his life in Wold. Most of Prince Orez’s men had returned to their homes in Etershore or among the fiefdoms, though the prince lingered, enjoying a friendship that had too long been scarred by tragedy and separation. The prince had decided that before leaving Woldsgard he and Justinian should make a trip to Ghastain. It had been years since either of them had talked with the king.
It might as well have been a lifetime, they confessed when they returned to Woldsgard. King Gahls simply wasn’t interested in hearing about the waters rising. He told Hallad and Justinian he didn’t believe it. It was all chatter. Mirami had told him it was all chatter. The only problems that bothered the king were that the tailor simply couldn’t get his costume for the parade to fit right, and oh, incidentally, Rancitor had died, leaving him without an heir.
“I had thought of suggesting a new wife,” said Hallad to those gathered at the supper table. “But I could not think of a woman sufficiently unworthy. Then Justinian told me about the emperor in Tingawa.”
“The hereditary personage? The one who did as little as possible?” asked Xulai.
“Exactly. We decided King Gahls should be far too important to be bothered with trivialities like survival. So, first we told him about Ghastain adopting Huold, then we suggested he follow Ghastain’s example and adopt an heir. We said he should find a bright young man among his subjects, one who spoke several languages, one who could deal with foreign dignitaries, one who could take care of all the dull business of the kingdom while the king himself saw to the important things, like parades and balls.”
“Wasn’t he offended?” asked Xulai wonderingly from the couch where she had lain in marvelous idleness all morning among a purring clowder of cats, Bother and Vex among them.
“Not at all. He thought it was a splendid idea. We offered to help find someone for the job, and he agreed to let us do it. If you and Abasio weren’t so involved with the whole sea-egg project,
