Is the empire dying? she wondered. Is it an empire embarking on an era of decadence?
"Three and a half hours," Lord Ch'ien said. "The indications remain positive."
"Thank you. What're the reports from our people in Western Army? I have a feeling Hsung is going to be trouble."
Nepanthe lay with the baby at her breast. Outside, fell witchlight tumbled around the mountaintops like a playful litter of kittens. "Maggie," she called softly. "Maggie?"
"Yes, My Lady?" The servant girl rose from where she had been dozing over her knitting.
"Where is Varthlokkur? Has he sent a message?"
"I'm sorry, Mistress. There's been no word at all. Even the Queen is upset, they say. She hasn't heard from the King in days."
Slowly, Nepanthe turned her head till she could see the witchfire again. A deep sorrow possessed her. "What is that? Does anyone know?"
"They do say it's the Dread Empire at war, Mistress. But not with us. No. Not this time. This time darkness stalks one of those faraway kingdoms you only hear about in stories."
Nepanthe did not reply. She was no longer listening.
She was alone and scared. The presence of the serving girl did nothing to comfort her. Maggie wasn't someone she knew, someone she could open her heart to, someone who wouldn't laugh at her fears... Varth had promised that the baby wouldn't be born here... Be reasonable, she told herself. The child wasn't due for weeks.
She looked down at the hairless, wrinkled, red, tiny head. As if sensing her scrutiny, the baby wriggled, began nursing again. Nepanthe watched the little cheeks move and smiled.
Then she realized that the maid was still talking. Her question was getting far more answer than she cared to hear. "Maggie? Would you see if Queen Inger can come in?" She needed someone, and didn't know anyone... She would have called for Mist, but her brother's wife would be in the thick of whatever the men were doing. That woman only pretended to her sex. Inside that gorgeous body she was just another man.
Queen Inger came in a few minutes later. "Thank you for coming," Nepanthe gasped. "I didn't really expect you to. You have your own things to do."
"I'm probably as desperate to talk as you are, honey." The Queen was cool and blonde, tall and elegant. Truly regal, Nepanthe thought. Always in command of herself and her surroundings. "I haven't seen Bragi for days."
"Varth has been gone since the baby was born. I know he has things to do, but he could at least stop and say hello."
"What're they up to? Do you have any idea?"
"I don't even know where Varth is, let alone what he's doing."
"They're at the Chatelaine Mist's house. Them and their cohorts. I know that much. What they're doing is anybody's guess. They won't talk to anyone. Won't even answer my messages."
"You can bet it has something to do with that." Nepanthe levered herself out of bed, went and leaned on her windowsill. The Queen watched over her shoulder. "It never ends, Inger. I wish... No offense to you, understand. I wish Bragi had never come to Kavelin. We had nice homes in Itaskia. We weren't important and we weren't wealthy, and life was hard, but our families were all together and we were mostly happy. That damned Haroun bin Yousif... I hope he's burning in Hell. If he hadn't gotten Bragi and Mocker involved... "
"You can't change anything. I think it was fated. If it hadn't been Haroun, something else would have driven you out."
Nepanthe turned, her eyes suddenly narrow. "That's right. Duke Greyfells was your uncle or something, wasn't he?" The Duke of Greyfells had been a mortal enemy of her first husband and the King when Bragi was just a mercenary.
"Another branch of the family entirely, dear. Our side never got involved in politics. I wish Bragi wasn't now."
"You don't like being Queen?"
"I love being Queen. I just hate all the trouble and pain and conspiring and responsibility that goes along with it." Nepanthe turned and stared into the distance once more. The sorcery-storm had developed a bilious, lime-colored tint. Sorcery. That too had dogged her all her days. It had claimed Ethrian. It devoured the innocent.
"Does Bragi ever talk about what happened? With Mocker?"
"No. He doesn't want to remember. And he can't forget. He's haunted by it. Sometimes he wakes up in the night crying. Or shouting. He can't convince himself that he had no choice. And he didn't, you know."
"I know. I don't hold it against him. I'm saving my hatred for the people who made Mocker try to murder his best friend. I wish they weren't all dead. If they were alive, I could dream about torturing and killing them."
"He'd do anything to make it up to you, Nepanthe. He still feels that badly."
"I don't want anything, Inger. I have Varth and the baby. The only thing would be... Ethrian. I wish I could know for sure. If he's dead or alive."
"I thought they killed him after Mocker failed. That's what everyone says."
"Everybody thinks they did. But nobody saw it happen. And I keep getting this feeling that he's out there somewhere, and he needs help." She stared into the violent sky, began shivering. She didn't mention her dreams. Varth always laughed at them. Inger might too. "Sometimes... sometimes I think Bragi and Varth know and they just won't tell me."
"Bragi hasn't ever said anything to me."
"I just wish I knew. If you hear anything... Tell me. Please?"
Inger patted her shoulder. "Of course. Of course. What are friends for?"
I don't know, Nepanthe thought. I've never had enough to find out.
The sky raged and swirled.
11 Year 1016 afe
The Stone Beast Speaks
E THRIAN AND SAHMANAN stood atop a hill. The broad expanse of the Tusghus rolled away below them. Ethrian squeezed a dagger so hard his knuckles whitened. "Damn!" He hurled the blade at the ground. It skittered into the brush. He could not find it again.
"What's the matter?"
"We're winning the battles and losing the war," he snarled. "They're eating us up. How do we get across this? There're as many of them as there are of us. There isn't anybody left for me to recruit."
"Take them alive. You did that with some of the natives."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"They won't let me. Their armor has spells that stop me."
The earth shook. A column of fire rose a few hundred yards behind them. Trees smouldered.
Ethrian muttered, "Another three hundred men gone. Why do they clump up? I can't keep them spread out unless I think about it every minute."
"They still have memories. They don't like what they've become. They huddle because it comforts them. Reach across the river. Find people who aren't soldiers."
"I've tried. There aren't any. They've emptied the whole damned countryside."
Fighting broke out south of the hill. The uproar approached, then drifted away.
The enemy no longer needed his transfers to shuttle his legions. He was using them tactically, launching small surprise attacks. Ethrian hadn't the skill to detect portals left hidden on this side of the river.
"We can't sit here forever," Sahmanan complained. "We have to break loose and start recruiting."
Ethrian's hatred flared. It had grown geometrically since his assumption of the beast's power. He marveled at himself. Sometimes he thought he had become quite mad.