„It's a Trolledyngjan draug tale come true," he said. „Terrible. But why do you come to me?"
„Because when he's done with the empire the Deliverer will come for you."
„I don't understand," Inger said. „I missed something. You two know what you're talking about... ."
Bragi said, „Mist claims this warlord of the dead is Ethrian. Mocker's missing son. Nepanthe's son."
Mist said, „And you killed his father, Bragi. The real power that makes the Deliverer run is his obsession with revenge. First the empire, then you. Then the rest of the world."
„I think I understand why Varthlokkur doesn't want Nepanthe to find out. If what you say is true."
„It's true. Something in the east saved Ethrian from the Pracchia, made him over, and gave him immense power. I think it lost control. I saw him, Bragi. There is no describing him in words. He's like a natural force gone made. And if he isn't stopped it'll be the end of the world."
Inger croaked something. Bragi groaned. „I believe it. I don't want to, but I do. Look at Mist. She's scared silly. A princess of the Dread Empire terrified."
Mist admitted it. „You're right. It's got me so scared I can't think."
„And Varthlokkur knows all this."
„Probably. There is little that escapes his notice."
„Uhm. He knows. Maybe even more than you. But he wants to stick his head in the sand because Nepanthe might be upset. I can't put up with that. Let's go see him."
They found Varthlokkur in the castle library, reading an ancient book he closed too quickly when he noted Bragi's approach. He looked dismayed when he noticed Mist. „What is it? What do you want?" His voice threatened to squeak.
„I think you know. Tell him, Mist."
Mist repeated her story. The wizard's expression grew more and more distressed, then gradually hardened. Before she finished, he interrupted. „The answer is no. Find another way. I've finally gotten Nepanthe satisfied that her son is dead. As he is, in his way. Leave him in the grave."
„How about sending the Unborn?" Bragi asked.
„No. Aren't you listening? I won't help. Neither will Nepanthe. You deal with it yourself, woman. Bragi, I've warned you. You tell Nepanthe about this... ."
„I don't plan to. You're going to do it."
„You're not thinking rationally," Mist said. „What if I can't stop it? And the Council tells me there's a good chance I can't with the resources available. Then what? Where do you go to hide when the bulwark of Shinsan is gone? The Deliverer will find you in the Dragon's Teeth themselves."
Varthlokkur spat, shocking Ragnarson. „I'm going to protect my wife... ."
„I think that's what she's asking you to do," Bragi said.
„My way. Ragnarson, recall what the Thing did. With that law in place you're a dead man if you don't have me."
„Damned stubborn ass. What the hell is it with you? You want trouble with me? You know I don't stand still when people try to twist my arm."
„You'd better."
„I got along without you before I met you. I can live without you now." Ragnarson was getting heated. The wizard had been from the beginning.
„Stay away from my wife. Mist, the Deliverer is your damned problem. Ethrian is dead. And I'm going to keep it that way."
Mist smashed a fist into a stack of bookshelves so hard a dozen volumes tumbled to the floor. „You're not only being bullheaded, you're being stupid. Don't you understand? He won't stop with Shinsan."
Bragi took her arm. „Come on. We're wasting our time. He's gone goofy." He headed for the door. Over his shoul der, he said, „I'll remember this."
For a moment it almost seemed Varthlokkur would stick out his tongue.
Outside, Mist asked, „What now? There's not much hope without him."
„You and me, I guess. Maybe I can do something to reach the boy inside this Deliverer. Come on. I'll have to explain to Gjerdrum and Derel so they can cover my ass while I'm gone."
Mist's fright had lessened. She looked at him appraisingly. „In more ways than one, no doubt."
„Eh?"
„Why do I have a feeling my children are sudden hos tages, just in case this is a scheme to separate you from your base of safety?"
„Because you're a practical woman familiar with the way politics work. You're my friend, but what does that have to do with the course of kingdoms and empires?"
„It could be a nicer world."
„Derel and I have been trying. Nobody wants one. Unless they are in charge."
„Josiah, I asked you to lay low. You'll get us all hung, coming here."
„My Lady, this was too important to ignore." He told her of the confrontation in the library. „So now he's going off to Shinsan to confront this Deliverer personally. They're with Prataxis now. You needed to know."
„Maybe. Probably. Thank you. Now get back to your post before you're missed."
Gales bowed slightly, departed. He could not conceal his injured feelings.
Inger was scared. This looked like a gods-given opportunity. ... It was too soon after the victory in the Thing. That wound had not scabbed yet.
She paced, trying to balance risk against gain. „Damn it! All right! You can't win if you don't play." She seized a cloak, pulled it tight around her, concealed her hair and face inside its hood. She slipped out unnoticed by her servants, hurried toward Nepanthe's apartment.
Varthlokkur eased into his quarters. He lighted a candle, sat, tried to continue his research. The calligraphy kept slipping out of focus. It had been an hour since the scene with Bragi and Mist. He remained shaky, and a little embarrassed, a little ashamed. And a whole lot torn. Part of him insisted they had been right. That he was being foolishly selfish.
A shadow fell across his lap. „Nepanthe! How come you're out of bed?" Fear hit hard. She had dressed herself for travel. She had the baby bundled. „Oh, no," he mur mured. „Why?"
„You lied to me, Varth. Ethrian is alive. He's at a place called Lioantung, in Shinsan. And something has been done to hurt him. Mist was here today about him. I'm going with her when she goes back."
She had her stubborn face on. The wizard knew there would be no dissuading her.
„Did they tell you what your son is now?"
„Did who tell me? What?"
„Ragnarson and that Shinsaner witch."
„I haven't seen either of them. What have they got to do with it?" Anger fed anger. „You can come or stay as you please. But don't try stopping me."
„All right! We'll go!" Varthlokkur shouted. There was an hysterical edge to his voice. „Bragi, you cut your own damned throat. I'll sit back and laugh when the wolves pull you down."
Mist's shoulders slumped. Her beauty seemed to have deserted her. „It seemed the best hope, confronting him with his mother. He's still a child. The shock of having her see him the way he is. ... I thought it might bring him out of it."
Ragnarson grunted. He ran a whetstone along the edge of his sword. „Maybe. And maybe if he's got the big hate on for me I can do it my own way. What happens if I kill him? Will he rise up again, too?"
„I don't know." She tinkered with the portal she was preparing. „Five minutes."
Ragnarson grunted again. Outwardly, he was calm, a soldier about to enter battle for the thousandth time. Inside, he was in turmoil. Self-doubt raged. He was not sure he could do the necessary if the Deliverer could not be shocked out of his madness. Guilt about having slain the father still nagged him. Could he strike the son? Especially when the threat was less immediate and apparent?
Mist still had some convincing to do.
„Look."
He looked. He saw Varthlokkur and Nepanthe approach ing. The woman was determined. Varthlokkur moved jerki ly, like a marionette, lost within himself, face angry stone.
Nepanthe said, „We're going with you." The wizard said nothing at all. To him they did not exist.