"Before the mercenaries leave?" Gjerdrum asked. "They'll come at you twice as hard...."
"No problem. Oryon wants to go. To poke around High Crag for the connection with Shinsan. Meanwhile, we're going to turn Kavelin upside down. These assassinations and kidnappings have got to stop."
Varthlokkur glowed. "I have the perfect device. The perfect servant, the perfect hunter...."
"Gjerdrum? What's the matter?"
"I saw his perfect hunter."
Ragnarson looked from one to the other.
"The baby," Gjerdrum said. "The demon thing. He kept it alive."
Ragnarson leaned back, closed his eyes, said nothing for a long time. Then, softly, suppressing his revulsion, "Tell me about it."
"I merely salvaged it," the wizard replied. "I did what was necessary so it survived, bound it to me, taught it. It's not as bad as your friend thinks."
"It's horrible. You should have killed it."
"I go with Gjerdrum emotionally. How can it help?"
"It can find the men you want found. And kill them, or bring them to you."
"How'II it tell enemies from friends? When can you begin?"
"I could call it right now. It detects enemies by reading their minds."
The hairs on Bragi's neck bristled. Read minds? In all likelihood it would read everyone, friend or foe. "Let me think about it. Gjerdrum. You brought Fiana?"
Eanredson nodded.
"Good. Set up the funeral. Big as a coronation. With open house here. The works. Vorgreberg is restless. It's time we distracted it some. I've got a feeling there won't be time for fun much longer." He turned to Varthlokkur. "Can we possibly hit Shinsan first?"
"A spoiler? No. They're moving. The old destiny call is echoing from border to border. They've recovered from the war with Escalon and the feud between O Shing and Mist. They're ready. They're short just one element. An enemy. The Tervola want us."
"How do you know?"
"It's no secret. Baxendala shattered the myth of their invincibility. They want to regain that. You just said a Tervola was seen in the Kapenrungs. They're doing the obvious. Softening up. Eliminating men who would resist. Trying for a sure thing. I suggest we loose Radeachar now-before they reach anyone else who shapes the power. Did you find the Tear?"
"Gjerdrum, would you step outside please?" Once Eanredson left, "It hasn't turned up. Mist can't find a trace. She and Valther can't find our enemies, either. They're either well shielded or gone."
"Why did you ask the boy to go?"
"They got Nepanthe."
The sorcerer rose slowly, face darkening.
"Wait! She's not dead. They kidnapped her. So to speak. My son Gundar heard a man tell her he could take her to Mocker.
She and Ethrian went with him. Mist couldn't locate her, though."
"Excuse me. I've got work to do. I'll summon Radeachar. He'll begin bringing your enemies in soon. Then I'll gather the Brotherhood. And see if anyone will loan troops for another Baxendala. This time, I think, we'd better keep after O Shing till he's done for."
He dropped back into the chair. "I'm tired. Weary unto death. This constant struggle with Shinsan has got to end. Us or them, for all time."
Ragnarson countered, "Would that settle anything? Per-manently? Aren't there always more evils? If we destroy Shinsan, won't something else arise? Somebody once said that evil is eternal, good fleeting."
"Eternal? I don't know. It's relative. In the eye of the beholder. The Tervola don't think they're evil. They feel we're wicked for resisting destiny. Either way, though, I want rid of Shinsan. A force of equal magnitude isn't likely to rise in my lifetime."
"Wizard, I'm tired too. And emotionally exhausted. I have trouble caring anymore. I've lost so much that I'm numb. Only Kavelin is left. Till we find a new king.... Well, I'll keep plugging."
The wizard smiled. "I believe you've found a home, Marshall."
"What? Oh. Yes. I guess. Yes. I still care about Kavelin. Bull don't know what to do."
"Trust me. Not forever, but for now. Our interests are congruent. I want peace. I want to escape the machinations of this pestilence in Shinsan. I want Nepanthe...."
"Did you grab Mocker?"
"No. I promised Nepanthe. My promises are good. And he's my son...." There was no resentment in his response.
"What?"
"It's true. It's a long story, that doesn't matter now. But he is."
"Uhm. That explains why he isn't afraid of you.... Does he know the other thing?"
"No. And he'd better never find out. But back to our congruency of interest. You have my pledge to remain a steadfast ally till Shinsan falls. Or destroys us."
"All right. Destruction seems most likely."
"Maybe. They have the advantages. Unity. Power. A huge army.... Why dwell on it? The die is cast. The doom is upon us. The Fates speed us from their bows. I'll go now. You may not see me for a while."
This was the point, according to Prataxis, when the First Great Eastern War began. He selected it primarily because histories need milestones. First causes could be traced back, and back, and back. And heavy, massed combat didn't occur till the Second Great Eastern War. Some authorities argued that Baxendala should be called the First Great Eastern War, and seen separately from Ravelin's civil war. Though the rebels accepted aid from Shinsan, Shinsan's objective in intervening was eventual mastery.
Whatever, this was the moment when, irrevocably, Ragnar-son and Varthlokkur committed themselves to destruction of the Dread Empire.
NINETEEN: Funerals and Assassins
Haaken rode at his brother's side. Gjerdrum and Derel trailed them. It was the morning after the day following Eanredson's return. He had arranged the funeral quickly, for Victory Day, for whatever symbolic value that might have.
Behind them. Dr. Wachtel rode in a small carriage. He was too fragile for a horse. He would be an important speaker. His honesty was beyond question. His testimony would dispel rumors surrounding the Queen's passing-though he wouldn't tell the whole truth.
The word had spread quickly. The streets were human rivers flowing northward.
Ragnarson told Haaken, "Keep a sharp watch. This mess is perfect for an assassination."
"I'm watching." He glanced around. "Something we should talk about. Ragnar."
"Oh?"
"He's bound for trouble. And he won't listen."
"What is it?"
"A girl."
"That all? Well. The little devil. Ain't fifteen yet.... You remember Inger, Hjarlma's daughter, back home? I was about his age when...."
"If you won't take it.serious either...."
"Wait. Wait. I do. These southerners worry about that crap. Never understood why. She somebody's daughter?"
"No. Her father's one of Ahring's sergeants. It wouldn't be a political thing. I'm just thinking we've got trouble enough already."
"Okay. I'll talk to him. Where is he, anyway?"
"With Valther and his bunch."
"Maybe I'll keep him closer."
"You keep saying that."
"I get distracted. Damn, I miss Elana." He sagged in his saddle, momentarily overwhelmed by past emotions.
They encountered Valther on the road. Ragnarson asked, "You found anything, Valther?"
"No. Except that there were three men involved in Nepanthe's disappearance. I found their hostelry. The landlord thought they were guards off a caravan from Throyes."
"Ah. And Throyens look pretty much like desert people."