Prataxis snorted. „Who is another foreigner bewitched. Strange, isn't it? The people who love this country most are people who came from somewhere else and got caught up in it."
„It's a spider's web," Michael agreed. „Question. Do I take another stab at it?"
„I want to say no... . Do you think she's neutralized?"
„That's what I was talking to Snake about. He don't know what's going on, but his post is up that way. He says Inger's people are scared to death. Meaning she is. He says her apartment is locked up tight. Long as it stays that way, we can't get in and she can't get out where she can cause any more trouble."
„Good. Can we help her isolation along? Like prevent any contact?"
„I plan to give orders to that effect, Derel. So she'll have to come out if she wants to visit with her accomplices."
„Yes. Good. Keep track of anyone who wants to see her. I'm telling you your job? Look. Keep her scared. Keep her locked up. Don't let her talk to anybody unless it's some body we can't keep away." He meant the King. „Her friends in the Estates will get nervous fast. The King's trick with the Captures match had one positive effect. It showed the Estates that he's still tough and tricky, and he won't put up with any crap."
„It also showed them that there're people around who aren't afraid to break their bones if they don't behave according to rules that are good enough for the rest of us."
„Dantice? He might become a liability. Look. I'll give the orders to keep people away. We'll let it out that she's bad sick. Nobody will believe that, but the orders will have more weight if they're mine. And from you they'd cause too much talk."
Michael raised an eyebrow.
„You're a living devil, you know. People think you're something almost supernatural. You scare them. Scared people do dangerous things."
„Come on. ..."
„Take my word for it, Michael."
Kristen arrived in Sedlmayr about the time Derel and Michael went their separate ways. The house to which her escort delivered her was simple to the point of being plebeian. There was room enough only if she and Sherilee shared one room and the children all bunked together in another. An old couple named Shastain managed the place. They were friends of Michael Trebilcock.
A courier from Vorgreberg had reached the Shastains hours earlier, having passed Kristen's party on the road. Elma Shastain told her, „Our orders are to keep you inside all the time. No contact with the locales. We haven't been told who you are, and Mr. Trebilcock doesn't want the neighbors to find out."
Kristen was irritated. Cooped up in a small house with four children, day after day? „For how long?"
„Until we hear differently. Three weeks at the least."
„Three weeks?" Kristen groaned. „I'd rather do three months in the Scuttarian galleys."
„I'm sure it's for our safety," Sherilee said. „I'll help with the kids."
„You don't know Michael. Mrs. Shastain, was there a message for me?"
„There's a sealed pouch. Maykin will get it for you when he's gotten rid of your drivers."
„Let's get the children settled in, Sherry."
Upstairs, Sherilee asked, „You think there'll be a letter for me?"
„I don't know. He's not good at writing letters. Don't be upset if there isn't. He said a lot more by sending you here with me."
Children whined and fussed. They had throughout the journey. Sherilee snapped, „Gundar, act your age. And help your sister."
Maykin Shastain was a cherry-cheeked, fat little fellow with a tonsure of white hair and a cherubic smile. He brought the letter pouch. „Mrs. Shastain explained the rules?" he asked.
„Yes." Kristen broke a nail trying to unbuckle the pouch. „Why do we have to stay locked up?"
„You'd understand that better than I, Mistress. I have no idea who you are or who might be looking for you. I don't want to know. It's not my job to know. My job is to look after you."
„I guess Michael knows what he's doing."
„He usually does, Mistress. He usually does."
„There is one for you, Sherry." And three for her, one each from her father-in-law, Michael Trebilcock, and Dahl Haas. Her eyebrows rose when she saw the latter. She smiled, opened that letter first.
„A month down here," Sherilee said. „He wants us to stay a month. Just in case. I can't not see him for a whole month. What's the matter with you?"
„They're sending Dahl to Itaskia."
„Oh. I guess I shouldn't complain, then, should I?"
„No."
„You decided you like him, huh?"
„Maybe. Maybe it's just because he doesn't care that I was married to the King's son."
„I wonder how Julie is doing."
„Julie? What made you think of her?"
„Talking about men. She's going to marry Sir Gjer-drum."
„He's engaged to that Gwendolyn creature."
„That will change." Sherilee grinned. „She hasn't told him yet. But she decided."
„I see. One of those situations."
„One of those. I wish I knew what was going on in the city."
„They won the match."
„Then why do we have to stay?"
„Because they think somebody might try to hurt them through us. A lot of people lost a lot of money, I guess."
„Well, I hope it blows over fast. I miss him already."
Kristen shook her head and went to check on the chil dren. Sherilee was getting strange. Acting too possessive. That might cause trouble... .
Well, that was what she'd wanted when she'd pushed them together, wasn't it? A gimmick to pry her father-in-law away from Inger and make the path wider for Ragnar. ... I guess I just won't ever be satisfied, she thought.
Michael eased his mount nearer Derel Prataxis. He leaned, watching the King's back. „He said anything? Let on at all?"
„No. I don't think he's been up to see her. He doesn't even know she's locked herself in."
„No time?"
„No. He hasn't been that busy. Last night he had time to do some reading. I guess he just doesn't want to see her."
„That's fine with me."
Ragnarson growled, „You want to listen up back there? Derel? Michael? You need a special invitation?"
Ragnarson scanned his henchmen. Those who were going along looked ready to go. Those who were staying looked impatient. Good. Everything as it should be. „Sergeant, get with the pipes and drums. Let's get the crap over so we can hit the road."
Drums boomed. Pipes tootled. The castle gate swung open. Outside, trumpets sounded. Bragi glanced up at the window of Inger's bedroom. He saw a face barely visible in the pre-dawn light. It jerked out of sight. He looked through the gate and tried to put her out of his mind.
For most of an hour the Vorgrebergers and King's Own passed in review. Those of Ragnarson's intimates who were to stay in the city fretted. Some wanted to be about their own business. Others, like Credence Abaca, chafed at being left behind. Finally, the last troop filed past.
Ragnarson turned. „Credence, Michael, Cham, I'm counting on you to keep things quiet. Derel, rap them on the knuckles if they don't." He chuckled. It was difficult to picture Prataxis physically chastising anyone.
Prataxis scowled and grumbled. Then he scowled some more. He was thoroughly disgruntled. Never before had he been denied the chance to accompany Ragnarson when something important was going on. But he understood. His pretense to be an historian had evaporated. He would be of more value here, overseeing the palace and mediating between Cham, Credence, and Michael.
„Be good, people." Ragnarson nudged his mount into a walk. His staff and bodyguards formed around him. At last, he thought. After three years, back in the field. Away from the endless bickering and backbiting. Away from all the insoluble problems. Back to doing what he knew best. Soldiering. It felt good.