An Ill Fate Marshalling

„Sure. Sire?"

„What?"

„Never mind."

„What is it?"

„Nothing. Forget it."

The match with the Panthers had been on Ragnarson's mind since he'd conned the judges into a postponement. „What're they saying about the Guards-Panthers match?"

Trebilcock was baffled by the switch. „People are mad about the delay."

„How about the betting?"

„What betting? Nobody will go Guards. Not unless you give them three goals."

„How about to win?"

Michael looked more baffled. „Name your odds. You could get ten to one anywhere."

„How come?"

„The word is, Charygin Hall took steps. I hear they've paid off some of your players."

Bragi grinned. „Aral into gambling?"

„It looked like it."

„Here's what I want. I'll have Derel release a hundred thousand from the treasury. Sneak it to Aral. Have him pass it to his people and get all the bets he can against us. Have him hold the bets. None of this word of honor I'll pay if I lose. I want him to go after the high rollers in the Estates and get every crown he can."

„Are you sure? Our finances are so bad ... the whole Thing would turn on you. That's betting the longest shot... ."

„If he needs more to cover all the bets, let me know. I'll even make loans if I have to."

„Why? Why risk everything on a ball game?"

„We're going to win, Michael. The take will retire a few debts. We owe almost two hundred thousand nobles. If we average five to one return on a hundred thousand crowns, less say five percent to Aral as commission, we'd retire a quarter of it. If we drive it higher, and get the barons to bet big, we can strip them of a lot of their wealth. And wealth is power."

„In other words, you're going to backstab them for what they pulled when we weren't looking."

„There. You're starting to see it. Another debt we're going to pay."

„How can you be so sure you'll win? The experts say you'll be lucky to score two goals. The Panthers are taking this one like it's the match of the century."

„I'll win because I have to."

„Suppose word gets out and the odds plunge?"

„That's what Aral gets his commission for. If we win. The more we win, the more he makes. Right?"

Michael smiled. „I like it. Basically. I'll work on it. Though it hardly seems meet work for a secret service."

Ragnarson scribbled a note. „Give this to Derel. Your first hundred thousand. And authorization to draw more. Tell Aral to keep his pigeons from talking to each other. I want to hit those bastards hard."

He was angry. He hoped some deep-seated, unrealized rage was not compelling him to undertake totally foolish risks. There was no guarantee his plan for winning was not subject to prior detection.

„One more thing, Michael. Find out who was paid off."

„You'd better believe. I'm riding this one with you."

Prataxis read the note a fourth time. „He's out of his mind."

„I want to talk about that," Michael said. Derel gave him a hard look. „Really. He's getting weird. Playing too many long shots."

Prataxis leaned back in his chair, folded spidery fingers under his chin. „Tell me about it."

„Look. The thing with Mist. We lucked out."

„He's a lucky man."

„He's been a lucky man. Luck turns. Then there's this girl. He's making no secret of her. She's staying at his country house."

„An ancient and revered custom."

„I know. I'm a little prudish. But so are these Kaveliners. They won't care that he's got a leman. Who doesn't that can afford one? What'll shock them is, he's keeping her there where his kids can see it. That's a big deal here. We're from farther west. We don't see it that way. But... ."

„Enough. I agree. I've dropped a few hints. He doesn't listen anymore."

„Now there's this. Betting the whole treasury on a ball game. It's plain crazy. There's no way he can win. It's like he's trying to destroy himself."

„He's cagey. Some ways, he has fewer scruples than a Tervola. Captures is for cheaters. My guess is, he'll outcheat the Panthers."

„Oh, he'll win on the field. I'm talking about off it. We can't keep this quiet. Suppose he does fleece the Estates? They're going to smile about it? What'll people say about him risking public moneys?"

„So don't do it."

„You kidding?"

„Actually, yes. I do hope to get out of Kavelin with a whole skin once my work is done."

„So what do I do?"

„I can't help you." Prataxis pursed his lips thoughtfully. „You're right. He's getting strange. We have to rein him in. We have to convince him, first, that he's not favored of the gods, and, second, that he can't keep laughing in the face of fate. What's happening is, he's got a touch of that old royal megalomania. Since he wasn't raised to it, it's taking some odd twists."

„Can we educate him? He hasn't learned from his lapse with the succession."

„Uhm." Prataxis rose. „Let's get you that money."

„That's it? Go ahead?"

„What can we do?" As they neared the doorway, Prataxis mused, „His biggest error may be the way he's handling his wife." He looked Trebilcock directly in the eye.

„You're onto that too, eh?"

„It's pretty obvious. It's just as obvious that he knows. And he's doing nothing. Nothing."

„Think somebody should act for him?"

„That would be between a man and his conscience. Maybe. If the somebody could be sufficiently circumspect. But not right away. Let it ride a while."

Michael nodded. He respected Prataxis's political sense. Timing was everything.

Since returning from Al Rhemish he had been trying to come up with a way to carve out this cancer without getting carved himself. Maybe Varthlokkur would help... .

Bragi was having dinner when Dahl intruded, apologizing profusely. He bore a note. Bragi read it, frowned.

„What is it?" Inger asked.

„Mist is back. Wants to see me. All right. Bring her up, Dahl." The woman arrived a few minutes later. She looked older by a decade. „Been rough?" Bragi asked.

She nodded. „Could you spare a meal for a tired old woman?"

Inger gestured. A maid departed. Bragi eyed Mist uncer tainly. He'd planned on a heart-to-heart with Inger. Mist's appearance had killed the chance. Something always got in the way.

Or was he just finding excuses?

Mist sagged into a chair uninvited. „I'm exhausted."

„You asked for it." Ragnarson frowned. This was out of character. What was she up to? „Excuse me if I'm blunt. What're you doing here?"

„Looking for help. Again."

„I thought you got what you wanted."

„It's that mess in the east, Bragi. I didn't know how bad it was till I got a closer look. Now I know why the Tervola are spooked. It could mean the end of the world."

„Come on!" Inger said. „That's too much to swallow."

„You haven't seen it. I have."

„Start at the beginning," Ragnarson suggested. „All I know is what you've already told me. All Varthlokkur will do is threaten me about shooting my mouth off to Nepanthe."

So Mist told a tale about her predecessor, Lord Kuo, having had a presentiment about the great desert east of Shinsan. He had sent men to investigate. They had wakened some force terrible and ancient, that acted through a creature who called himself the Deliverer.

„Armies of dead men?" Ragnarson murmured in horror. „It raises up the dead against the living?"

That was the heart of it. The force behind the Deliverer empowered him to raise the recently dead to lead in battle. Those fighting him had to do more than battle: they had to keep their own fallen from coming under the Deliverer's sway and had to burn his casualties too, lest they be reanimated again and again. To Bragi it sounded like a struggle that could not be won by the living. A parable of the inexorability of death.