„Sire!" Prataxis shouted. „Sire, the Chatelaine wants you."
Ragnarson sighed. „Kavelin, you're a jealous bitch." He clomped up to the map room.
Mist indicated the pincers nipping the Matayangan arm. „We're going to go when the prongs are ten miles apart. About four hours. We'll need three assault teams from you. Most of the Tervola here will accompany and support you."
Her tone was imperious. Bragi found it irritating. „You ain't number one yet. You're Chatelaine of Maisak till the dust settles." He glanced at Varthlokkur, who observed blandly. Damn me, he thought. I wish I weren't dependent on him. If I lost him, the wolves would be all over me. He turned. „Credence. Want to lead a commando team?"
„I'd be delighted, Sire."
„That's two. Who takes the third?"
„Two, Sire?" Prataxis scribbled madly, occasionally curs ing as his overworked pen spattered ink.
„I'm taking one team."
„Sire!"
„I know the arguments, Derel. Save your breath. I'm going. Credence? Who's the best man?"
Abaca pursed his lips.
Sir Gjerdrum volunteered. Ragnarson said, „Not you. I'm taking Derel and Varthlokkur. That means you stay to keep them honest here. Not you either, General," he told Liakopulos. „Somebody has to run the army while Gjerdrum runs the country."
Gjerdrum protested, „Damn it, you do this every time... ."
„The price of being trustworthy. Be quiet. Credence?"
„Perhaps Captain Haas?" He smiled thinly.
There was little warmth between Haas and Abaca. Ragnarson suspected the Colonel wished Dahl the oppor tunity to prove himself incompetent.
Michael pushed past Gjerdrum and Liakopulos. „I'd be honored, Sire. Could I take my old sidekick, Aral?"
Ragnarson glimpsed a pudgy hand waving behind the others. He grinned. Finally. Baron Hardle was politically perfect. King's flanks guarded by officers from the social extremes. He liked flashy gimmicks. „Make room for the Baron, men. Baron, I accept. You take the third team."
Hardle looked nonplussed. He hadn't expected to be taken seriously.
Abaca grumbled. Ragnarson smiled. Abaca always grum bled.
„He's a leader, Credence. As you'll recall."
„I guess. Like it or not. He saved my ass at the Battle of the Fords. I can put up with him if he can put up with me."
Bemused, Hardle offered Abaca his hand.
Bragi exchanged glances with a triumphant Prataxis. By damn! There were tears in Derel's eyes. He understood the thoughtless symbolism. The ideal had taken root. Nordmen and Marena Dimura, shaking hands! They had no idea how far that gesture said they had come.
Ragnarson studied the Baron. He no longer seemed small and fat and ineffectual. He had a new dignity, a new air of self-worth. His class had lost much of both after, in the main, serving the wrong cause during Kavelin's civil war.
„Let's see what our friends need," Ragnarson suggested. A vision of blonde, insatiable perfection ghosted through his thoughts. He pushed her away. The question persisted. Would he taste those delights again? Or would he leave his bones in an enemy land?
The hell with Varthlokkur's divination. He was scared. The wizard guessed wrong sometimes.
14
Year 1016 AFE; There and Back Again
A soldier plowed into Bragi from behind. He staggered forward, collided with a Tervola, instantly decked the man. His troops spread out. The enemy began to react, baring weapons and preparing spells. Varthlokkur hurled a spell of his own. Chaos spread like a plague. Wild spells rampaged through the headquarters, ignoring allegiances.
In a quarter hour the place was secure. Baron Hardle reported having secured his objective too. But Credence Abaca was in trouble. He had fallen into the headquarters Lord Kuo was currently using. The defense was stiffer. „Let's get there before they close the transfer portals," Ragnarson growled. He herded his men through. Baron Hardle's troops joined them.
For a half hour Bragi knew nothing but the continuous clang of sword on sword, the smash of shield against Tervola armor, the hair-raising instant when a spell had been loosed and he feared it might lash his way. He was battling an excellent swordsman, and weakening, when Lord Ch'ien, Mist's leading Tervola, ended hostilities by announcing the enemy's surrender.
It was over. The coup was a success. Lord Kuo Wen-chin had fallen. Kavelin had placed a friend on Shinsan's throne.
Bragi made the rounds. The cost! He'd lost a third of his men. The rest had taken their nicks. He had a few shallow wounds himself.
Baron Hardle turned up sporting a grin, a bloody blade, and a fine collection of bruises. „By god, Sire, we pulled it off. We pulled it off."
„We sure did, Baron. Get set for the counterattack. Where's Colonel Abaca?"
Hardle went pale. „Counterattack? Uh. ... Of course. Credence is in yon corner, Sire."
Tervola spilled from an unsecured portal. The battle was on again. Spell met spell. Blade smacked blade. A friendly Tervola shouted, „They're from Western Army."
Western Army? Bragi thought. Mist was supposed to neutralize Hsung's bunch.
The counterattack faded. „We haven't been as successful as you'd hoped."
Bragi turned. Varthlokkur stood behind him, staring at the portals. „How so?"
„Lord Hsung recaptured the other two headquarters."
„Damn! More men lost."
„This is too pat. It stinks of trap. Lord Hsung knew we were coming."
„I told you there was a traitor in the palace."
„Luckily, Hsung didn't get word to Kuo in time. Let's get out now. We're no longer useful."
Bragi was startled. „What?"
„I've opened a portal to Kavelin."
„I've got you. Derel. Shuttle the wounded through that rabbit hole. Varthlokkur, did you look Credence over? How is he?"
„Not good. I did what I could. I can't guarantee he'll make it."
Bragi glanced around. Already captive Tervola were being paroled to war duty. He wished it were that easy at home. His rebels went to the gallows unrepentant. Why did he bother?
„Sire?"
„Oh. Baron. What?" He'd been on the edge of a reverie about Sherilee.
„The coup was successful except where Lord Hsung intervened. Lord Kuo is out. Probably dead. The Council of Tervola will declare their position once the war situation stabilizes. Mist is negotiating with Lord Hsung."
„Lord Ch'ien know?"
„Not yet."
„Don't tell him. He'd slap us in irons. Let's get out of here." He caught Prataxis's eye, pumped his fist. It was a field signal for hurry up. Derel nodded. The Tervola paid no attention. They had problems of their own. The distraction of the coup had allowed Matayanga to seize a more favorable position in several places. „Think we rate a chanson, Baron?"
„Sire?"
„Little kingdom doesn't like the management in a big empire, so it puts somebody else in charge."
The Baron sneered. „Your tame Daimiellian might write it so people on the coast would believe it. We know they used us." Hardle had donned his political persona. Bragi liked him better as a bumbling captain.
„We used them too."
„I wonder, Sire. You're too trusting. The Chatelaine of Maisak was your friend. You're dealing with the mistress of Shinsan now."
„Her fate isn't out of my hands." He moved to the portal. „I'm going back, Derel. Get the men out fast. Varthlokkur, come with me." He stepped into the transfer.