“I see it. Let’s go.”
A pinkish dot had risen. It quested briefly, then headed their way, fast.
Back in the staging room, Mist said, “The Unborn sensed us.”
Tang Shan suggested, “Or it sensed the portal’s use.”
“Whatever, I won’t test the other one yet. It’s only a few miles from that one.”
Tang Shan seemed relieved.
Mist asked, “Is that a good thing?”
“I said, Lord Yuan isn’t comfortable with the…”
“You told me all three were sound.”
“And so they are, Lady. In the sense that we trust them enough to send me through them. But the escape portal in your old house has a bitter flavor. We are less willing to risk you going through.”
Should she be flattered or frustrated? “I want it usable by this time tomorrow.” Flattered, because Tang Shan disdained female leaders.
“As you will.”
…
The door to the world creaked behind Ragnarson. He looked over his shoulder, saw Mist and her right hand, Lord Ssu-ma. But who else would it be? It was not mealtime
Mist looked puzzled. “What are you doing?”
It was unusual to find him reading or writing, though he could manage both without much skill.
“Derel Prataxis once suggested that I would find it useful to make tally sheets if I was contemplating actions that might impact a lot of lives. I didn’t listen then.”
“And this is what you got.” Her gesture included his surroundings.
“This is what I got.”
“So what are you planning?”
“Nothing. I’m working the sums for what I lost because I didn’t think before I acted and then was too stubborn to change once it was obvious that I’d done something stupid.”
Ragnarson considered the Tervola. Lord Ssu-ma seldom said much. His opinion, though, carried considerable weight with Mist.
She asked, “How are you managing emotionally?”
“I’m operating under the conviction that losing Sherilee shocked me sane. That could be a delusion, though.”
Lord Ssu-ma said, “You have failed to take advantage of the new liberties you have been granted.”
Ragnarson was free to go to the tower top. He had done so only once. It had taken immense will to abandon the safety of his prison, though he knew he should be challenging the stairs regularly, building himself back up. He shrugged, reported the truth. “I don’t feel comfortable up there.”
Mist asked, “Have you lost your taste for freedom?”
“No. What are you up to?”
Lord Ssu-ma wore his mask. This visit was not informal.
Mist said, “What would you do if I sent you back to Kavelin?”
“I’ve played that what-if a thousand times. Till last month I wanted to show the world what the poet meant when he said don’t inflame the wrath of kings. I was set to burn Kavelin to the ground. I was pitifully selfish. Now I understand who did the real betraying. So I’m just pitiful.”
“That response surprises us only in that you were able to articulate it,” Mist said.
“Is that why you’re here? To see if you dare cut me loose?”
“What would you do if you woke up in Kavelin tomorrow morning?”
“Go looking for my family. Kristen and my grandkids, not Inger and Fulk. I wouldn’t make war on Inger. I’d try to get her to go home to Itaskia.”
“She might not be able. The Greyfells fortunes collapsed after she locked up the Duke.”
He could not restrain himself. “Excellent!” Greyfells villains had caused him misery since he was a boy.
Mist said, “Sending you to tame the chaos is under consideration. Steps are being taken. But nothing has been decided. My councilors will argue that the chaos is benign. Why risk loosing such a stubborn enemy?”
Ragnarson smiled. “Nor would I want the world to think I was beholden to you.”
Mist actually chuckled. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
…
The door shut behind them. Shih-ka’i asked, “Was that true?” “He could pull Kavelin together. A strong central authority there would be to our advantage, commercially.”
“I see.”
“We’re here. You said you want me to see something.”
“I have captives of my own. One, as Ragnarson is for you, is an old friend and recent enemy, now entirely harmless.”
“Ooh. Mysterious.”
Shih-ka’i’s nerves tautened.
“You want to show me your prizes, then?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Do it. I don’t have much free time.”
No one would ever call Shih-ka’i a coward. Not after his war with the Deliverer. But the pig farmer’s son was not confident. His hands trembled as he entered the apartment where Kuo Wen-chin and the sad old man were caged.
Kuo was nowhere to be seen. The old man was a few feet from the entrance, looking vague.
Mist halted as though met by some savage weapon. “Lord Ssu-ma. Can this be?”
“Illustrious?”
“This ancient…?”
“He is the companion of my friend, who is my prisoner.” “You don’t realize who he is?”
Shih-ka’i stopped. Her intensity alarmed him. “I do not, Illustrious. He is here because my friend insisted on bringing him. He’s feebleminded. He can manage only simple tasks.”
“Really?” The Empress sounded disappointed.
Shih-ka’i studied her briefly before asking, “Who is he, then? Or, who was he?”
“One of the eyewitnesses to my father’s demise. That night probably left him like this. I suppose nobody in the whole world knows he’s still alive.”
Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i had not been a witness. He said so, tartly. “I’m sorry. He’s the legend. The Old Man of the Mountain. He occupied Fangdred before Varthlokkur.”
Shih-ka’i was so moved he took off his mask. This man might be as old as the Star Rider. He stood witness to thousands of years. Kuo Wen-chin stepped into view. “The Old Man? Truly?” His voice was soft but rich, vibrant with awe.
Shih-ka’i failed to catch the Empress’s response to Kuo’s continued existence. He was enthralled by the moment, too. That grinning idiot was half as old as time?
That brain must hold incalculable knowledge. The magics of the ages, perhaps. All inaccessible, now? Sad beyond comprehension if true. Shih-ka’i asked Kuo, “You didn’t know?”
“I had no idea. Of myriad possibilities that particular one never occurred to me. I thought him a tool abandoned by Magden Norath.”
Kuo bowed to the Empress. He did not speak to her.
Lord Ssu-ma asked her, “You’re sure he is who you say?” “I’ve done dozens of past divinations involving that night. This man was there. He hasn’t changed in appearance, except to become more gaunt and frail.”
Mist considered Shih-ka’i and Kuo, unshaken by Kuo’s survival. She asked Kuo, “You consider him your friend?”
“Not exactly. I felt responsible for him after I found him. He’s better now than he was.”
She considered the apartment. It resembled the one where King Bragi was confined, two floors below. She instructed the Tervola to arrange cushions around a low table. The three settled there, leaving a space for the idiot opposite the Empress.
She considered Kuo, then looked Shih-ka’i in the eye and said, “I understand.” She told Kuo, “Don’t make me regret my trust in Lord Ssu-ma’s judgment.”
“I am at thy mercy, Illustrious. Blessed be, I am bereft of ambition. Not that I was ever driven. I honor those who were friends in the harsh times as well as the sweet.”
Shih-ka’i frowned. Kuo might golden-tongue himself into a tight spot. The Empress said, “I hope that we have entered into a new age. The Tervola have begun to demonstrate a more traditional attitude toward the values underpinning our empire.”
…
Scalza asked, “Do you understand any of that, Uncle Varth?” “I’d say that I understand without fully comprehending.” The boy told his sister, “He’s about to unload a bucket of mystic wizard crap.”
The prophecy was harsh but essentially accurate. Varthlokkur had been about to say something vague meant to protect children.
From what? he wondered. Maybe Scalza could use an unadulterated, full-flavored dose of grownup reality.