„Can't tell for sure. Estates agents are spreading it, but they claim they picked it up in the streets. You know the King better than anyone. Would he go off like that?"
„Yes and no." Yes, he would do something like that. He'd done so before. But no, not under today's conditions. He'd had half the wizards of the west with him during his raid on Argon. He had no wizard now, and faced one of the top dozen Tervola of Shinsan. Bragi wouldn't attack in those circumstances.
„He wouldn't do it," she decided. „He might let every body think he was doing it. Then he could see what we'd do if we thought he was off doing something insane. No. He's up there in the Gap where nobody can see what he's doing. He's waiting, studying the news. At the right time he'll swoop down like an eagle. And anyone who's fool enough to believe the rumors and try to profit will get snatched up like some hapless rabbit."
Her advisers looked thoughtful. One observed. „This morning Abaca ordered a new gibbet put up. A big one. Might mean he's expecting something."
Inger's stomach tightened. „The Estates aren't planning another riot?"
„No. The last one went so badly... ."
„Find out for sure. Trebilcock said the next one would kill us. Abaca could be building that gibbet for us."
The man added, „Abaca also sent secret orders to all the major military commands. He's called some units into Vorgreberg. He must know what's going on."
Another said, „Sounds to me like he's part of what the Queen was saying. That buzzard is sitting up there laughing at us. The way things were going, he couldn't do anything that didn't make him look bad. But if we do anything now, it'll look like treason. Nobody would much complain if something happened to us."
Inger said, „There are a lot who would cheer. A lot who resent the fact that there are so many foreigners in the palace. They like us less than they like my husband."
„That raises a question that's never been adequately answered, My Lady. What do we do with the man? Assum ing we ever do take over?"
„That's a moot question." And one I want to avoid, Inger thought. „Our taking power isn't even a pipe dream any more. Survival is the question here. We have to decide what I'm going to tell Trebilcock tomorrow."
„Stall him."
„Put him off."
„What if he won't be stalled?" She didn't want to stall. She was tired of this dreary little kingdom and its plague of selfish nobles, tired of the role her family had thrust upon her. She was tired of being afraid, and tired of being in continuous danger. She was ready to meet Michael's condi tions. She just wanted to get away, to go home, to raise her son and be free of the vicissitudes of politics.
She wished she could ride away the way Bragi had described, drifting off into history, Kavelin's crown left for whoever wanted it. Maybe she should have offered to ride away with him. It might have been interesting, living with him the way his first wife had, with every day an honest struggle for honest pay... .
„My Lady?"
„Yes? Sorry. I was daydreaming. All right. I'll try to stall him. Meantime, find out what's going on. Try to contact the Estates again. If there's anything I should know, tell me before Trebilcock shows up. Now go somewhere. I need to think."
What she needed was time alone, time not so much to think as to weep for everything that might have been, everything she had hoped for in the few hours between her receipt of Bragi's proposal and her having gone to Dane for advice.
Dreams die hard.
Ragnarson gave the signal. The light horse company surged forward, swept round the flank of the hill, hurtled toward the shanty trading center built alongside the ruins of Gog-Ahlan. „Drums," he shouted. „Double cadence, for ward."
Drums began grumbling. The troops picked up the beat and double-timed forward. The heavy horse rolled along at their flanks. „They look good," Ragnarson told Baron Hardle. „Very good indeed."
Sourly, Hardle replied, „They've had good leadership. And they believe in their supreme commander."
Ragnarson scowled. Hardle was worse than Gjerdrum. But give the man his due, he wasn't sabotaging anything. He was performing his tasks to the limits of his capacity.
„Back with your men. Septien!" he shouted at the com mander of his Marena Dimura scouts. „Move out. If anybody gets by you I'll have your scalp."
The scouts galloped off to interdict the road to Throyes. They were to stop anyone who escaped the light horse.
Ragnarson spurred his mount, hastened to the head of the column. He rounded the flank of the hill and looked out on the plain where the ruins lay. „What the hell?"
There was nothing there. At least, nothing to compare with what had been there last time he'd come this way. The trading town had been a city then, wild and colorful and ramshackle. Now there was nothing but a neat geometric layout. A barracks city with only a few non-standard build ings off to one side. The barracks and the low curtain wall surrounding them seemed to have been assembled from stone salvaged from the ruins.
„That makes sense," he muttered. „Use the materials at hand. And why would the traders stay after trade was cut off?"
Ragnarson pointed at a trumpeter, beckoned, charged toward the town. He was certain he would find it wholly abandoned. All this energy expended for nothing. But it would be good for the men. It would get them used to moving when it was time to move.
The light horse were almost upon the barracks, their wings sweeping forward to surround the buildings, when a lone horseman appeared among the ramshackle civilian structures to the right. He whipped his animal into a gallop. A squadron of horsemen turned after him. Ragnarson did the same. In the distance Septien swung back as he spotted the horsemen too.
The man turned this way, that, and saw all escape fade away. He pulled up and waited. In moments he was sur rounded.
Bragi reined in, looked the man over. „Throyen. Anyone speak the language?" Most Kaveliners spoke several tongues, if only because there were four languages current in Kavelin itself. Many more spoke the tongue of one or another of the kingdom's trading partners. Of those Throyes had been the most important.
„Here, Sire," one soldier said, and another raised his hand.
„Ask him questions. The kind of things we're interested in."
The soldiers asked when the legion had withdrawn, where the civilians had gone, what this one man had been doing there alone. They asked about the surrounding territory, and about what lay between Gog-Ahlan and Throyes. Bragi occasionally suggested additional questions. The prisoner was moderately cooperative.
He had been left to watch the pass. Insofar as he knew, there were no armed forces between Gog-Ahlan and Throyes. „Things have gone bad wrong," he said. „El Murid has a new general. Better than the Scourge of God, the old people say: I know we lost a couple of big battles. They've been sending everyone to the fighting."
Ragnarson exchanged glances with Hardle and Gjerdrum. „Better than the Scourge of God, eh?" Bragi muttered.
Hardle said, „He must be if he's making a showing against everything Lord Hsung's thrown in."
And Gjerdrum, „You think Habibullah exaggerated Yasmid's weakness?"
„No. He believed the story he was telling. Those people are funny. They'll fight like devils for a leader they believe in. You're not old enough to remember the things Nassef and el Kader did. Have the Baron tell you sometime. They damned near conquered the world."
The army made camp thirty miles southeast of Gog-Ahlan. Ragnarson kept his captains up late. It was obvious from his picking of nits that he wasn't comfortable with what he was doing. He went walking the camp perimeter after sending the others to bed.