Mist retreated into the house. That was the last she heard.
…
“The Vorgreberg portals have to be considered compromised,” Mist told her technicians. “I expect them to be destroyed. Get replacements into place before that happens.”
She dismissed her bodyguard. He needed rest and family time, unlike his Empress. She relaxed a few hours herself, then chose another lifeguard to accompany her to the Karkha Tower. She was not surprised to find Lord Ssu-ma visiting. He had a lot of free time. He spent much of it with Kuo. She invited herself to join him, Wen-chin, and the Old Man.
They were surprised to see her so early in the day.
She said, “They don’t see it themselves but things are coming to a head in Kavelin. And Varthlokkur is in the middle of it.” She explained.
Shih-ka’i asked, “Might his slips have been deliberate?”
“No. He’s lost the habit of caution. He doesn’t need to watch himself at home. The news should cause fundamental shifts but I can’t guess what those might be.”
Shih-ka’i suggested, “Ask Ragnarson.”
“He’s farther removed from today’s reality than I am.”
Wen-chin and Shih-ka’i were playing shogi. Each had made one move since the Empress arrived. It was Wen-chin’s turn. He spoke for the first time. “Ask anyway. You know him well. You judge his response.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
…
“There is a shift underway,” Wen-chin observed.
“Uhm?” Shih-ka’i focused on the board. He was the superior player but was in a bad position this time around.
“Just years ago we were all playing games of empire. That ends tomorrow, when you execute the treaty with Matayanga. The whole world will be at peace.”
“You think?”
“Consider. In Kavelin one pretender’s ambition is to catch a criminal. The other waits like an ambush predator, showing no ambition whatsoever. Rather the same situation prevails in Hammad al Nakir.”
“True. As far as we know. The west is caught up in the doldrums of peace. North and south, they’re interested only in harvests and their burgeoning mercantile ventures.”
“Peace?”
That came from the Old Man, who drowsed in a western-style chair while disinterestedly watching the game. He began to shake. He made a brief whimpering sound, then slipped away to hide inside himself. Shih-ka’i said, “His fear could be justified. Old Meddler must be livid. But even he can’t chivy an exhausted world into another round of butchery. Generations have to pass.”
“Let that be true. Will you yield?”
…
Ragnarson was at his little desk when Mist arrived. He did not look up. “I can’t remember the color of my mother’s eyes.”
“Blue, I expect. They’re all blue up there, aren’t they?”
“You’d think. But my mother wasn’t Trolledyngjan. My father brought her back from a raid on Hellin Daimiel.”
“Then they were brown, or darker. Does it matter?”
“Not in the history of empires. I wanted to capture what I remember about the people I’ve lost. The memories have begun to get away. Those people shouldn’t be forgotten. So. To what do I owe the honor?”
“I visited Kavelin last night. When I came back I rested till people would be awake here.”
“Did something happen?”
“A lot of nothing. But Varthlokkur was there, helping Inger hunt somebody who tortured and raped a little girl. Kristen’s faction is sitting in Sedlmayr, waiting for Inger to eliminate herself. Nobody is talking politics anymore.”
“Same here. I don’t like being locked up but the lack of pressure is nice. They’ve stopped killing each other, haven’t they?”
“Yes. Do you want to spend the rest of your life here?”
“No. But I don’t want to be the man you locked up, either.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
Once she was gone, he added, “I won’t be your tool, either.”
…
Mist found Shih-ka’i tearing his hair, figuratively. He and Wen-chin were involved in the same game. He would not yield.
Mist said, “Ragnarson seems indifferent to what’s going on in Kavelin, evidently because everything has collapsed into peace. He seems inclined to stay away.”
Shih-ka’i said, “Amazing, the impact a good harvest can have.” Mist nodded. The world was drifting into pacifist indifference. She would not complain. She was fond of peace herself. Something was happening, down below the level of consciousness.
The world and all its warlords were putting their swords aside. That contradicted human nature.
Mist left the Tervola to their game and the attention of the now unnaturally alert Old Man. She went to an empty apartment, told her lifeguard, “Wake me in three hours.”
She had to rest before meeting with the Matayangans.
…
Mist wakened with the future fixed in her mind.
Chapter Twenty:
Year 1017 AFE:
Peacable Kingdoms
V arthlokkur had gone to bed, supposedly exhausted. Babeltausque dragged the Queen out of Josiah Gales’s arms to report.
Inger looked old and tired when she came out. Nathan Wolf arrived moments later. Colonel Gales pretended to arrive from his own quarters less than a minute behind Wolf.
Babeltausque said what he had to say concisely. “I did my best to remain invisible.”
Never mind somebody tried to murder her sorcerer, Inger fixed on the critical point. “Bragi is alive?”
“And they’re thinking about dropping him on us.”
“Should I cheer or cry?”
“Your Grace?”
Inger said, “Tell me your new ideas for finding the treasury.”
He told her. And began to grow mildly disaffected because she showed no concern about the assassination attempt.
She was a Greyfells for sure.
The meeting did not last long. Bed called out to everyone.
Babeltausque did not fall asleep immediately. He ought to be hunting those killers. And caring for Carrie. He had to get her out of there. He should move her in here. She was no secret, now. Why should he hide her?
They would talk but nobody would do anything. Inger needed him too much.
…
Josiah Gales perched on the edge of a chair beside Inger’s bed. He had not yet recovered enough to do much but hold her. He did not recall being beaten while captive but he had a testicle that would not stop hurting. There were occasional blood spots on his small clothes. His urine sometimes had an odd brown color to start. When he sat to defecate, dark, dense blood leaked from his penis. He was frightened.
Inger asked, “What do you think about what Babeltausque said?” “About the King? We should keep that quiet. About new places to look for the treasure? Some of those have been checked already, the well several times. Throwing money down a well was the kind of thing Derel Prataxis would have considered funny.”
“Derel wasn’t by himself. You always ignore Cham Mundwiller. He had a bizarre sense of humor, too.”
“Which is why we’ll drain the sewage deposits.”
“Nobody has done that yet. Right?”
“Not yet. I need to go. I’m feeling weak.”
“If you must. I so miss you. But I don’t want to lose you. Take care of yourself, Josiah.”
…
Only five people were supposed to know what had happened between Varthlokkur and Mist. The wizard was one. He discussed it with no one. The others would claim that they had told no one. They would not be lying.
There were, as ever, those who lurked within the castle walls, eavesdropping. Word that the old king was alive got out via a maid whose politics were those of indifference.
King Bragi’s survival was not all she reported. Treasure hunting enjoyed a surge in popularity. That ended when the Queen’s men began harassing the hunters. One stubborn band gave up only after the Queen’s sorcerer demonstrated a willingness to boil them inside their own skins.
…
Varthlokkur followed Mist’s suggestion.
Phyletia Plens had lived a life of constant sorrow. Little good ever happened to her. Because he had suffered the childhood that he had, Varthlokkur felt all of her pain.