„Hey! What's all this?"
„Always a bridesmaid, never a bride, I guess."
„One of them steal the guy you were eyeballing?"
„No. Not really. None of them are my type. It's just the idea. Suddenly, all of my friends have friends, and here I am, still in the audience."
„Yeah, well. Be patient. Your day will come."
„I keep telling myself that. You want to eat now?"
„I guess. Though what I really need is some sleep."
„Go on upstairs. I'll send your supper up."
„What's wrong with the kitchen?"
„It's full of Guardsmen. You don't look like you're in the mood for them."
„You're right. Well, let's see if I've got enough energy to make it to the third floor."
„Want some stretcher-bearers?"
„Smart mouth."
He was using the room that had belonged to his brother
Haaken before his death. Kristen had wanted to put him in the room he had shared with Elana. He would not so much as look through the doorway, though the room had changed since his wife had died there.
Haaken's was the one room which held no ghosts. He had visited it rarely. Haaken had used it only occasionally. He had commanded the Vorgreberger Regiment, and had made his home at their city barracks.
It was a tiny room, about seven by ten, with the bed shoved to one end, beneath a window. There was a chair and a small table that Haaken had used as a desk, and a few mementoes. One was a locket their mother had given them before their flight from Trolledyngja. Bragi opened it. It contained a curl of his mother's hair. Where was Helga now? Long dead, probably. He felt a vague guilt. He ought to go home, to see.
He shut the locket, dropped onto the bed, began remem bering. There were a lot of years to review.
He fell into a half-sleep, recalling the bad times after the El Murid Wars. He, Mocker, and Haroun would have sold their souls for a hundredth of what he had today. They nearly had for less. If a god had told him he would become a king, he would have collapsed in sad laughter.
Funny. He wasn't happier now than he had been then.
A soft, tentative tapping came from the door. „Bring it in," he mumbled. Hinges squeaked as the door opened and closed. „Put it on the table." Feet went tap-tap.
He and Mocker and Haroun. The intrepid trio. The darers of any damned foolishness. The inseparable com rades who hadn't trusted one another farther than a dwarf could throw a bull elephant. They had had their moments, and no other lives to worry them in their games of forfeits.
I guess that's what I really miss, he thought. The absence of pressure. The freedom from responsibility.
He hadn't heard the footsteps depart... .
He rolled, quick as a cat. His dagger sprang into his hand. He crouched, ready to spring... .
Sherilee clapped a hand to her mouth, backed toward the door.
„Hah!" he snorted. „That's hard on a man's heart, woman." He reversed the knife, flipped it. It stuck in the door-frame. „What're you doing here?"
„I brought your supper. Kris said you were hungry."
She was pale as a sheet, and shaking.
„Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Sit down. What did you bring?"
In a voice as tiny as she, Sherilee replied, „Chicken."
„Should've known. Chicken. I don't think there's a hog or cow in this whole benighted kingdom. The sheep must have died during the winter. I've eaten enough chicken to fill four coops this month."
„I could get something else." She met his eye for a second.
„No you couldn't. One trip up those stairs is enough. We haven't seen you all week."
She stared at her hands. She was wringing them. „I couldn't come right away. I had things to do."
„But now you're here."
She met his eye again, smiled nervously before tucking her lower lip between her teeth. She nodded. He stared at her while tension bred butterflies the size of vultures.
There was but one subject which was safe. „Are you hungry? I'll share, if there's enough." Talking about the weather seemed idiotic.
„Oh. All right." She lifted the cloth covering the tray. It was buried in victuals and drink.
„Kris fixed the tray. I didn't see it before."
„She has a high opinion of my appetite."
With a trace of sauciness, Sherilee suggested, „Maybe she didn't expect me to come back down."
„Maybe she didn't." He selected a drumstick, looked at her over it. She pretended an intense interest in the food.
„Am I going?" she asked, voice tiny again.
At almost the same instant, he croaked, „Are you stay ing?"
„The chicken would get cold."
„Yes. It would." He returned the drumstick to the tray. „Do you care?"
„No. Sometimes I like it cold."
Slowly, he extended a hand. Just as tentatively, Sherilee left the chair. Her lower lip folded in between her teeth again. She no longer avoided his eyes. She blushed as they joined hands.
He knew it would be fireworks. It would be as wild as it had been with Fiana. It might consume him. And he didn't give a damn.
The tapping at the door wouldn't stop. The voice kept insisting, „Father! Wake up!" He grunted, raised his head. Light leaked through the curtains. They'd slept that long? He yanked the fabric aside.
The east was aflame once more. The skies over the Mountains of M'Hand burned in dreadful lemons and limes, shot with savors of blood.
Gently, he disentangled himself and went to the door. „Who's there?"
„Kristen."
He opened it a crack.
She asked, „Did you see the sky?"
„Just now. It's started again." He wasn't ready for it. It meant he had to rejoin Mist. He had to abandon this idyll.
„Is this what you were waiting for?"
„Probably."
„I thought so. That's why I came up."
„Any word from Mist?"
„Not yet."
„I'll get dressed." He got started. „What're you doing up, this time of night?"
„Couldn't sleep. Conscience, I guess."
So. Her teasing and matchmaking had stopped being a game. „Let the sinner atone for his sins. El Murid said that. He did produce a few gems."
She understood. He donned the light mail shirt he almost always wore, thinking, Kris reads me as easy as Elana did. Is there a little witch in her blood? Ragnar was lucky to have her.
He strapped on his sword. He was ready.
He looked down at delicate features shifting under the terrible lemon light. He bent, kissed Sherilee lightly, mur mured, „It was more marvelous than I expected, Little Bit." He glanced out the window. Bloody lightning sabred a background of yellow and green. „But what have I given you?" He touched her hair, turned away.
He stepped into the hallway. „Anybody else up?"
„It's a cemetery." They went downstairs quietly. Kristen was right. Not a soul was stirring. She followed him onto the porch. „Don't worry about Sherry. All right? She did what she wanted."
„What do you mean?"
„I know you. You've got the morning after guilts. Taking advantage of the poor girl. Like that. Don't. Concentrate on what you're doing. And come back when you can. She'll be waiting." And, as Ragnarson stepped into the lane, she murmured, „She's got what she wants, Father. And how I envy her."
She went inside wondering how she meant that.
The lane was awakening. People were gathering to watch the skyshow. Ragnarson watched over his shoulder, awed. He almost annihilated Derel Prataxis in their collision.
„Sire. Good. The Chatelaine sent me. You've seen it, then?"
„I could miss it, Derel? It's flashier than last week. I keep wondering why the earth isn't shaking. Is this it? Is Kuo out of hiding?"
„So she says." Prataxis glanced round furtively.
„Expecting spies in the bushes?"
„Colonel Abaca alerted the attack teams, Sire. They'll muster in the park."
„Fine. Has she regained contact with her people in Kuo's outfit?"