"She's vulnerable, though. Through the children."
"Aren't we all." The wizard turned bitter. "They're hostages to fortune."
"Can she make the comeback?"
"I wouldn't know. I don't know what's happening in Shinsan's politics. And I don't want to know. I just want to ignore them, and have them ignore me."
"But they won't."
"No. They won't. Not forever."
They watched shooting stars for a while. Then Varthlokkur said, "It won't matter if she does win, you know. Shinsan is Shinsan."
"You don't think she'd change anything?"
"She couldn't if she wanted. She wouldn't be allowed. You and I and Kavelin have earned their special attention. Someday they'll come again."
"Look at that one! Almost like a comet for a second."
"Uhm." Musingly, the wizard continued, "It should be a while coming. They've had some bad years, and they're staring trouble in the eye in Matayanga. They haven't fully pacified the territories they occupied during the war. Right now they're hoping like the one-legged whore the day the fleet came in."
Bragi chuckled and looked the wizard askance. That was not a Varthlokkur figure of speech. "If they'll give me a decade, or even another year, I'll be grateful. I'll take it and be happy because I don't think we can turn them back again. I think having Mist in charge might set the day of reckoning back a little, and soften the blow when it falls."
"It's your choice. Just don't forget O Shing."
"O Shing?" O Shing was the prince who had overthrown Mist and driven her out of the empire, only to be overthrown himself.
"He didn't want to come west. He fought it all the way. And that's why he's no longer with us."
"I know. But the people who pushed him out are gone now too. Holy ... ! Did you see the size of that one? All right. I'll take a few days to poke around and to think about it. Then I'll get Gjerdrum and you and a couple others together and we'll decide whether we should help her. And if we do, how visible our help should be."
"It's your choice, as I say, but you're just asking for grief if you do it. You have problems enough at home. Problems more deserving of your attention. Also, watch who you include in your ‘we.' I have no intention of getting involved with the Dread Empire again. Unless they come after me first."
"Pardon me for jumping to conclusions. I thought it might be a way for you to make contacts who could check out your Ethrian questions for you."
The wizard stiffened. He turned slowly, gazed at the King. After a moment, he nodded and said, "Maybe it would, at that."
Three men had gathered in Mist's library. Two leaned over her silver divining bowl. Her bowl did not contain the common water. She was wealthy. She could afford the far more expensive and reliable quicksilver coveted by every seer.
Aral Dantice shifted restlessly, nervous as a youth on the brink of losing his virginity. Mist watched him as closely as she did her bowl. She had made a mistake, telling him how much the King suspected. He had the Michael Trebilcock shakes. If this went the wrong way, he might crack... She did not want to think about that. Heroic measures might be required.
Cham Mundwiller filled the air with clouds from his pipe. The third man occupied a chair against one wall. His eyes were halfway closed. Neither his stance nor expression betrayed any emotion. He was as patient as a snake.
His coloring and mien matched Mist's. His clothing was western. He seemed uncomfortable with it. Though duskier than Dantice or Mundwiller, his face had a pallid look. He was accustomed to wearing a mask.
Mist's breath caught, sounding a little gasp. The easterner's eyelids twitched. "Aral!" Mist said. "Come here."
Dantice stared down into the bowl, at four minute human shapes seated round a table. For a long time now the four had been arguing, pounding the table, pushing bits of documentary evidence at one another. Nothing seemed changed. "What?" he asked.
"It's going our way." She grinned at herself. Her voice had picked up a high, musical squeak of excitement.
"How can you tell when we can't hear what they're saying?"
"Hush. Just hush and watch."
They watched the figures argue. Suddenly, Mist leapt away from the table. She yelped happily and threw her arms around Dantice. "It's official. The King got his way. We don't have to hide and sneak anymore." She kissed him.
He responded with a vigorous male salute. Mist stepped back. Head tilted, unable to control a lopsided smile, she said, "That might be nice too, Aral."
He blushed. He stammered.
Mundwiller exhaled a blue cloud and smiled knowingly. Aral turned redder still.
The third man saved him. He rose, stared into the bowl. His face remained arctically cool. He nodded once, returned to his chair. "It's good."
Dantice shuddered. Mist smiled, mildly amused. Lord Ch'ien Kao E always got that reaction when first he spoke. His throat had been injured long ago. He retained just a ghost of a voice, a dry husk that grated like salt in a raw wound.
Mist asked, "What troubles you, Lord Ch'ien?"
The man steepled thin fingers before his narrow chin. "The move suggests acceptance of the inevitable. It suggests that your King is well aware of what we're doing. It suggests that our secrets aren't nearly as secure as they should be." His obsidian eyes met theirs in turn.
I'm losing control, Mist thought. If I don't grab it back I'll soon be a spectator in this game.
"There haven't been any leaks at this end," Aral declared. He met that snakelike gaze without wavering. He was not intimidated by Ch'ien Kao E the man, only by what the man symbolized. He had met Tervola during the Great Eastern Wars. Aral Dantice, the caravan outfitter's son, was still alive.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. Wait. I do know one roundabout way for there to be a leak. Through my friend Michael Trebilcock. It's more circumstantial than deliberate. We share a few couriers."
"Smugglers."
Aral bowed slightly. "Sometimes they tell me what they think Michael is doing. I imagine they tell him what they think I'm up to. Lately, they've hinted that he may have developed an agent inside Lord Hsung's headquarters. It looks like he has. The King's actions make me think that agent might be aware of us."
Damn your eyes, Aral, Mist thought. Why did you have to tell him that?
"I see." Kao E turned her way. His reptilian eyes narrowed. "Princess?"
"You have some idea whom such a man might be?"
"I believe so."
"Does a weak link matter at this point?"
"Trebilcock obtained leverage. A lever is a tool any hand may wield."
She nodded. "Too true. Speak to him. Find out what the leverage was, and the extent of the compromise. Use your own judgment afterward."
"As you wish, Princess."
Dantice got a cold, pale look. He stared at the bookshelves, shuddered.
Cham Mundwiller sucked on his pipe and said nothing. His face remained a mask of stone.
Mist glared at Aral and tried to force a thought into his mind. This isn't a game, Aral. We're playing for an empire.
"Where is this Trebilcock?" Kao E asked. "His testimony might be enlightening."
"Nobody knows," Aral replied. "He disappeared a while back. Somebody attacked General Liakopulos one night. Hurt him bad. Next day Michael was gone. Nobody knows if there's a connection."
That was the night the King visited me, Mist reflected. The night that Haas creature dragged him away, acting like he thought I was the villain of the day. "I've looked for him," she said. "I like to keep track of him. He's a dangerous man. I can't find a trace." She frowned at Aral, who could not conceal his distress. She wondered how he had become professionally successful with so little aptitude for conspiracy.