"I need it," Ragnar replied. A shadow crossed his brow.
"I'll be down in a minute." He hugged his son. They had lost a lot, and had had too much time to remember while riding.
Ragnarson wasn't a demonstrative man. His hug startled Ragnar, but clearly pleased him. "Go on. And behave. Everybody in the army has permission to wax your ass if you act up."
It was a long climb. Gjerdrum and Dr. Wachtel had wanted Fiana inacessible.
She was alone except for a maid asleep in a chair. Only a candle beside her bed illuminated the room.
He stood over Fiana awhile, staring at beauty wasted by pain. She slept peacefully now, though. He wouldn't disturb her after what Varthlokkur suggested she had been through.
Gone was the elfin quality that had stunned him when first they met. But she had been barely twenty then, and tormented only by the cares of office.
The maid wakened. "Oh. Sir!"
"Shh!"
She joined him.
"How is she?"
"Better tonight. Last night....We thought.... It's good you're here. It'll help. That you couldn't be.....That made it hard. Can you stay?"
"Yes. There's no reason not to anymore."
The maid's blue eyes widened.
"Do I sound bitter?" His attention returned to the pain lines on Fiana's face. "Poor thing."
"Wake her. I'll go."
"I shouldn't. She needs the rest."
"She needs you more. Goodnight, sir."
He settled on the edge of the bed, stared, thought. A good man, that innkeeper had said. And he had brought Fiana to this.
He liked to believe he was one of the good guys. Wanted-even needed-to think so. By the standards of his age, he was. So why was it that every woman who entered his life got nothing but pain for her trouble? How happy had he made Fiana? Or Elana? He never should have married. Pleasure he should have taken in chance encounters and houses of joy. Elana would have been better off with Preshka. The Iwa Skolovdan would have done right by her....
He was holding Fiana's hand. Too tightly. Her eyelids fluttered. He stared into pale blue eyes pleasantly surprised.
"You came," she murmured.
He thought of Elana. A tear escaped.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing to worry your pretty head about. Go back to sleep."
"What? Why? Oh! You look terrible."
"I didn't clean up."
"I don't care. You're here."
He smoothed her hair on her cerulean pillow. The blue framed her blondness prettily. The maid had taken good care of her hair. Good girl. She knew how to buoy sinking spirits.
"You're exhausted. What've you been doing?"
"Not much. Haven't slept for a couple days."
"Trouble? Is that why you came?"
"No. Don't worry about it. Come on. Go back to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
She eased over. The mound of her belly was incredibly huge. Elana had never been that big. "Here. Lay down with me."
"I can't."
"Please? You've never stayed with me all night. Do it now."
"I brought my son. I told him I'd be back down."
"Please?"
He bit his lip.
"It might be the last time we can." Fear crossed her face. "I'm scared. I won't live through it. It's so bad...."
"Now wait a minute. There's nothing to worry about. You'll be all right. Funny. Women always get so scared. They go through it all the time. Elana..."
She wasn't offended. "It's not like before. It hurt last time, but only when the baby came." Her eyes moistened. Her daughter, a precocious, delightful blonde elf, had died mysteriously soon after the civil war. That had been one of Fiana's great sorrows. Another had been the passing of her husband, the old King, an event which had precipitated the civil war.
"Come on. Stay."
He couldn't refuse her. The look in her eyes....
"Now," she said after he slipped in beside her, "tell me what happened."
"Nothing. Don't worry."
She was persistent. And he didn't need much encouragement. He had to loose the grief sometime.
She cried with him. Then they slept.
And no one disturbed them. Her people were discreet.
It was afternoon when Ragnarson wakened. Fiana immedi-ately asked, "You think it's Shinsan again?"
"Who else? Wish I had a way to hit back. If it weren't for you, and Kavelin, I'd head east right now, and not stop till I had my sword through O Shing's heart." Someday, he thought. Maybe with Varthlokkur's help. The wizard had his own grudge against Shinsan.
He hadn't mentioned Varthlokkur. What he had revealed had troubled Fiana enough. And had done her good. Worrying about Kavelin distracted her. Knowing her condition had drawn Varthlokkur from his eyrie might crack what control she retained.
"Darling, I've got to go downstairs. Ragnar will think I abandoned him. And Wachtel is probably dancing in the hall, trying to decide if he should stick his nose in."
"I know. Come back. Please? As soon as you can?"
"I Will."
And he did, with Varthlokkur and Wachtel. Varthlokkur had conjured sorcerer's devices from Fangdred-and had frightened half the Queen's staff out of Karak Strabger.
What wild rumors were afoot in Baxendala?
Ragnarson kept his promise, but Fiana never knew. Her siege of agony had resumed. She screamed and screamed while Bragi and the doctor held her so she wouldn't hurt herself.
"It's worse this time," said Wachtel. He was a kindly old gentleman who winced with every contraction. He had been Royal Physician for longer than Fiana had been alive, was one of those rare Kaveliners of whom Ragnarson had heard no evil at all. Like Michael Trebilcock, he was unacquainted with fear. Varthlokkur didn't impress him except as a respectable physician.
Wachtel knew the wizard's history. Varthlokkur had learned life-magicks from the Old Man of the Mountain, who was believed to be the master of the field.
"Hold her!" Varthlokkur snapped. "I've got to touch her...."
Bragi pressed down on her shoulders. She tried to bite. Wachtel struggled with her ankles. The wizard laid hands on her belly. "Never seen a woman this pregnant. You're sure it's only eight months?"
"That's what disturbs me," Wachtel said, nodding. His face was taut, tired. "You'd think she was delivering a colt."
"It's overdue. You're positive...? Oh!" He touched hastily, his face smeared with sudden incredulity. "Wachtel. You have anything to quiet her?"
"I didn't want to give her something and be sorry later."
"Give it to her. She'll need it. We'll have to cut. No woman could dilate enough to deliver this."
Wachtel eyed him-then released Fiana's ankles. The wizard assumed his place.
"Over twenty pounds," Varthlokkur murmured.
"Impossible!"
"You know it. I do. But that thing in her womb.... Tell it, Doctor. Marshall?"
"Uhm?"
"I don't know how to tell you.... I'm not sure I understand. This isn't your child."
A sneak attack with a club couldn't have stunned Ragnarson more. "But.... That's impossible. She...."
"Wait! This's the part that's hard to explain."
"Go. I need something."
"Remember the plot hatched by Yo Hsi and the Captal of Savernake? As the Captal confessed it before you executed him?"
The Captal had been a rebel captain during the civil war. The Demon Prince had been his sponsor. Shinsan, to aid him, had put in the legions Ragnarson had defeated here at Baxendala. The plot had opened with the artificial insemination of Fiana, in her sleep, to create a royal heir controllable from Shinsan. To complicate their duplicity, the plotters had substituted another child for the newborn, ensuring a disputed succession.