An Ill Fate Marshalling

The mob began dispersing as the gate opened and twenty Guardsmen came forth. They began departing even faster when Michael took out a scrap of paper and nib of charcoal and pretended to be noting names. It was one moment when his reputation was a positive. As they passed beneath the wall, Trebilcock said, „They'll spread the word. Things will start calming down. If a good storm breaks, so much the better. They'll go home to get out of the rain." Distant thunder punctuated his final remark.

„I hope so, Michael. I saw enough getting here to last me a lifetime."

„Get used to it if you're going to be Queen. These things happen. I've never figured out why. It's like Vorgreberg has a fever it has to purge every so often."

A Guardsman rushed up to Michael. „Captain Trebilcock. Doctor Wachtel would like to see you immedi­ ately."

„About Prataxis?"

„Yes sir."

„How is he?"

„Still breathing, sir, but that's about all."

„I'll be right there. Captain, you know what to do. Inger, you want to start taking charge?"

„What about Fulk? Michael, it worries me, leaving him out there with only two women to watch him."

Michael smiled gently. „You might send some of your people to collect him, Your Majesty. If you'll excuse me?"

„Of course." Inger dismounted and marched across the courtyard, toward the great audience chamber. The regal hauteur came over her. Michael heard her give orders to the nearest Guardsmen. He smiled again.

„She'll do," he murmured. „She'll do. Now, if we could do something about her cousin... ." He hurried inside, toward Wachtel's quarters.

Prataxis was conscious when he arrived. A weak smile flickered across the old scholar's lips. „Took you long enough," he whispered. „Is she all right?"

„Fine. And taking charge. We've got the troops moving again. Looks like there'll be rain to help." Michael glanced across Prataxis, his question unspoken. Wachtel shook his head.

„I'm on my last legs, Michael," Prataxis said. „I never thought it would come to this when I came here. Who attacks dons of the Rebsamen?" He tried to chuckle. It came out a pathetic gurgle. „Stay with her, Michael. Guide her. Your organization is almost a shadow government. Use it. For Kavelin's sake."

Michael sighed. „Don't put that on me, Derel."

„Was all your work in vain? Have you spent so many years building just to walk away? You can lighten the winds of change and soften the coming night. Don't walk away. But be careful. There will be dreadful people near her."

„All right," Michael said. „All right." He didn't mean it at the moment. He was just saying what a dying man wanted to hear. But even then, way back in his mind, there was a part of him which still believed in the dream.

„Thank you, Michael. Now I feel I won't have died entirely in vain."

„Die? Who's going to die? You'll be up and around in a few days."

„Don't be a fool, Michael. I'd be dead now if I hadn't been determined to see you before I go."

Yes, Michael thought. He could see Derel's reserves going as he talked. He didn't have long.

„Michael, do one more thing for me."

„Name it."

„In my quarters. In the big cedar chest at the foot of my bed. All my notes and manuscripts. All the drawings I did with Varthlokkur... they're more precious than gold, Mi­ chael. Get them back to the Rebsamen." A pleading note had entered Prataxis's voice. He was begging that his life's work be preserved.

How could Michael deny him? „You've got it." And this promise he meant to keep. „They'll be gone before dawn."

„Thank you, Michael. You're a good friend. Doctor, I'm finished now."

Wachtel gestured toward the door. „He'd rather it hap­ pened privately."

Michael nodded, began retreating.

Prataxis went before Michael got out, a last, soft, „Gods save the King," drifting over his dry lips.

Michael walked alone for a long time, thinking. Prataxis had been his last friend here. He was alone in a hostile land now, surrounded by the growing might of people who hated him. He wouldn't survive long if he stayed and tried to fight the good fight.

He wasn't afraid. Death held no terrors for him. But he was lonely, and loneliness was a foe he did not know how to defeat.

Eventually he went down to Prataxis's quarters and prepared the man's manuscripts for shipment.

It was there, deep in the night, with lightning stalking the heavens and a hard rain driving into the streets, that Inger's messenger found him. „The Queen would like you to join her in the audience chamber, Captain. Pla

Michael rose from Derel's pallet. Despite the wealth that had been at the scholar's command, he had lived a spartan life. „I'll be right there."

26

Year 1016 AFE

Bragi came out of it suddenly, like flying through a door kicked open. One moment he was unconscious, the next wide awake. He surveyed his surroundings. He was in a large, well-furnished room. It was daytime. The air was hot and muggy. He tried to rise. Pain stabbed through his chest. His muscles refused to do more than pretend to try. He fell back.

A man stepped through the door immediately. He wore the dress uniform of a noncommissioned officer and the badges of one of the legions of Shinsan's Western Army. He stared for a moment, left without speaking.

So, Bragi thought. Captured. Must have something spe­ cial pla

They would, wouldn't they? Mist had warned him often enough. They didn't accept defeat gracefully.

The battle came back. All the stink and sweat and fear. All the memories of how badly it had gone, how badly it had hurt Kavelin. He sank into a morass of shame. He should have known better. But he had bet against the long odds, counting on his luck. And luck had deserted him. And that was only right. Only a fool bet his luck. A wise man accepted it when it turned his way, but he didn't count on it.

Where am I? he wondered. It's too warm to be anywhere in Shinsan.

The door opened. The noncom reappeared, followed by two maskless Tervola. A short, broad one wore the badge of an army commander. Bragi frowned. Hsung was tall and lean, like most of his breed.

The taller Tervola pulled the coverlet off Ragnarson's nude frame, prodded his left side. Bragi winced. „Still tender?"

„A little."

„Should be. You had six broken ribs and a punctured lung. Not to mention cuts, scrapes, bruises, and a concus­ sion. A challenge to my art. He can talk, Lord Ssu-ma. Call me when he tires. I'll give him a sedative. He still needs bed rest, and he looks like the kind who climbs out too early if you let him."

The shorter Tervola nodded, gestured in dismissal. He pulled a backless stool over to Bragi's bed. „Thought we would lose you for a while," he said.

Bragi frowned. The voice was familiar.

„Ah. Lord Ssu-ma Shih-ka'i. We met at Lioantung. The day we disposed of the Deliverer."

„Now I remember. You didn't speak... ."

„I'm a quick study with languages. Interpreters can be troublesome."

„That's true."

„You have questions. Where are you? Argon. I have shifted Western Army's headquarters here. We are harassing Matayanga's flank. What else?"

„Why?"

„Excuse me?"

„Why am I here? Why am I alive? I've been number one on your hate list for ages."

„Perhaps for some. Not for me. You're here because you saved my life. I owe a life for a life. So you will become a guest of the empire. With the approval of the Princess."

Ragnarson struggled to get into a sitting position. His muscles betrayed him again. Shih-ka'i helped him sit, propped him with pillows. „Better?"

„Much better. What happened? I had Hsung nailed to the wall, I thought. He was making an ass of himself. I should have had Throyes in my pocket before he knew I was there."