Abaca whispered, „May I ask a question, Sire?"
„Go ahead."
„Do you trust this woman?"
Ragnarson snorted. „What do you think?"
Abaca smiled, satisfied.
An astounded Baron Hardle lumbered in. „What in the world?" he gobbled.
Ragnarson slid an arm around his shoulders. „It's our shot at castrating Shinsan. We're going to overthrow Lord Kuo. The Chatelaine goes home."
Hardle gulped air. „Isn't that risky, Sire?"
„Very. Consider the stakes, though. Swinging it would solve half of Ravelin's problems. I apologize for keeping you in the dark, by the way. We had to keep it tight. Hsung has a spy in the palace. Have Sir Gjerdrum fill you in. I'm going to need your help."
„But... Sire... Who'll keep the Thing in line?"
„They'll manage. Probably just squabble. We'll be done by the weekend, I hope. Derel, you coming or staying?"
„Staying, Sire. These people intrigue me. One seldom sees this level of sophistication outside Hellin Daimiel."
„No doubt," Ragnarson muttered as he descended the stairs. „No doubt. One of these days I'll show you the real Hellin Daimiel, outside your university compound."
Gawkers were collecting already. Dahl kept them across the lane. Ragnarson chose a pair of bodyguards and walked to his house. He found Kristen on the porch. She asked, „What's going on over there?"
„Can't tell you. We'll be at it a few days. Think you can put up a mob of soldiers?"
„Depends."
„Me. Michael. Dahl Haas. Liakopulos. Derel. Baron Hardle. Sir Gjerdrum. Maybe a few bodyguards. You don't have to do anything fancy. Just feed us and give us a place to sleep."
„I'll have to get groceries. And somebody to help."
„Go through the commissary at King's Own barracks. Careful who you hire to help. They shouldn't ask questions, answer questions, or remember anything they accidentally hear."
„I know exactly who to get." She grinned.
„I thought you might. All those bachelors. What did Ainjar think of the crossbow?"
„I took it away from him. He shot out a window. He hates me forever now."
Bragi smiled. Ainjar was always hating someone forever, or ten minutes, whichever came first. „Did you see the sky this morning?"
„Yes. What was all that?"
„Matayanga and Shinsan."
„Oh. I didn't think they would ... I didn't think any body had that much nerve. Except maybe you. Does what's going on at Mist's have something to do with it?"
„Something."
„I can take a hint. When do you want the beds?"
„Me and Varthlokkur will need them pretty soon. We haven't gotten much sleep lately."
„What was it, anyway?"
„What was what?"
„The baby."
„Oh. Didn't you see his fireworks? No? A girl. He's crazy-happy. Baby and momma doing fine."
„They decide on a name?"
„Not yet. They want to wait a couple days."
Kristen mused, „You know, it's funny."
„What is?"
„Life. So much is going on. Men are killing each other over there, and I'm more interested in what somebody is going to name their baby. Doesn't that have a kind of horrible moral smell?"
„That's life, girl. We don't know those men. Hell, for all we know, they don't really exist. It might all be a big lie. If we was to decide to go watch the war, the gods might get in a panic trying to get the props set up before we got there."
„You going a little strange on me, Father-in-law?"
„Could be. Spend too much time in strange company. Mainly my own." There was little force to his chuckle. He did wonder about himself.
He wrote a note to the quartermaster of the King's Own regiment, then returned to Mist's house. There was no change in the situation map.
13
Year 1016 AFE; At the Ready
The interminable wait had become a deathwatch. The Matayangan thing went on and on and on, and still Mist insisted the time was not ripe. Vorgreberg's rumor mill churned a thousand wild speculations. They trickled into the provinces, where they became wilder still.
Ragnarson asked Mist, „How long before Hsung's agent puts it all together?"
„I know. I know. Pretty soon we'll have to assume he knows. Damn the man!" she snapped. „Lord Kuo, I mean. Why doesn't he move?"
The red sand now thrust deep into Shinsan. Mist's informants said Southern Army scarcely existed anymore. There was a huge gap in its line.
Ragnarson was tempted to back out. Why risk his people in a coup attempt when Matayanga threatened to crush Ravelin's enemies for him?
Baron Hardle said something. Bragi swore at him, then apologized. Everyone wanted a minute off. He did himself. But rules were rules. There would be no leaks.
Inger had sent a dozen messages. He had ignored them. The tone of the latest was strident.
Mist said, „Fifty hours. If Lord Kuo hasn't moved, I will myself."
„In the dark?"
„In the dark. I can't keep my people under control much longer. If one defects, they'll stampede. It would take ten years to put it together again."
Dantice concealed his hurt.
„It's late," Ragnarson observed. „I'm going to get some sleep."
He was leaving when Haas called, „Sire, would you remind Captain Trebilcock that he was supposed to relieve me half an hour ago?"
„All right. Sir Gjerdrum, too. He's supposed to have relieved General Liakopulos." He walked down the lane muttering. Kristen had brought in her friends. Now Gjerdrum, Dahl, and Michael were dodging their watches.
He spat into the dust beside the road. „Sure as hell miss Inger." Why didn't he feel that way when they were sepa rated within the palace?
Human contrariness, he supposed. A month ago he was upset because he wasn't interested in women. Now he was going crazy thinking about Inger and Sherilee.
He kicked a pebble. It hit a cobblestone, ricocheted straight up. He grabbed it on the fly. „Good reflexes, old-timer."
He'd really fixed himself with Sherilee. Talked himself right out of it. Kristen hadn't heard from her all week.
He eyed a distant tree trunk, snapped the stone. It hit ground short and to the right. „Damn! I can throw better than that." He collected a fist full of pebbles, quickly discovered that he didn't have a twenty year old arm anymore. Remembering when set him to recalling lost opportunities.
He had a whole catalog. It did not just include women he had failed to tumble. More and more, lately, he found himself irritated about every wasted moment.
Derel declared it was a normal life stage. He said most men Ragnarson's age went through it. Varthlokkur claimed it never ended. He claimed he could not count the times he had determined not to let opportunity escape, only to let it get away almost immediately. The trouble was, a man seldom recognized opportunity till it departed.
Something popped in Ragnarson's elbow. It left a dull ache. His next throw went nowhere.
„Damn it all, anyway!" He selected another stone, threw with his whole body. And thought his arm would fall off.
But he hit the damned tree. A glancing shot, eight feet above his point of aim, but he hit it.
„Just got to admit old time is catching up. It's a damned shame you don't get more." He kicked another pebble. It rolled ten feet. „Even better would be to live the same life over, four or five times, trying it different ways."
Was he too preoccupied with his own mortality? He had some good years left. He should worry about getting the most out of them, not how he had squandered those already gone. „Whining won't get them back, Ragnarson."