Then you're a fool, Varthlokkur thought, but didn't say it. "I doubt it. Well, I'm done here. I'll get back to Nepanthe. Seeing as you don't need me anymore, she'll want to get ready to travel. She'll want to make long lists of things we just have to drag along with us." He got out before the King irritated him more than he had already.
He thought he'd better stall Nepanthe for a week or two. It shouldn't take Michael that long to show the King how much trouble he really had.
"He's having dinner with the Queen," Dahl Haas said. "I can't disturb him. I thought you went back to Shinsan last week."
"I did. And now I'm back here. And if you don't take that message to the King right now I'm going to bless you with a spell that'll leave you sterile and impotent. Do I make myself clear?" Mist was tired and frightened and angry.
"All right. On your head be his wrath."
"You let me worry about the wrath. Just drag that note upstairs."
Haas returned in five minutes. "All right. He says come on up."
Mist turned away from the mirror where she had been considering herself. She looked older by a decade. She'd had very little sleep for a week. As she followed the King's adjutant through the halls, her legs felt twice their normal weight.
Haas showed her into the Queen's sitting room. The King met her there. "Through here. Been rough?" he asked, leading her through the apartment to a dining room. "It may not be polite for me to say so, but you look awful."
"Hello, Inger."
"Hello, Mist."
There seemed to be a mild frost. Mist shrugged, told Bragi, "I feel awful. Could you spare a meal for a tired old woman? I've been eating on the run since I left. Haven't had anything since yesterday."
Inger said, "Of course." Though she'd never gotten along with Mist, suddenly she was all solicitude. She gestured. One of her women departed.
Mist sagged into a chair. She noted the quick change but was too wrapped up in her misery to care. "I'm exhausted."
The King frowned. "Trouble? What the hell are you doing back? They didn't throw you out already, did they?"
"No. Not yet. No. I came to beg for help. Again."
"What for? You got what you wanted."
"This is something a little different. I got all the troubles, too. I can't handle this on my own."
The King settled himself opposite her. His face became more empathetic. "Go on."
"It's our problem in the east. I got a closeup look. It was worse than I expected. Lord Ssu-ma thought he was on top of things, but... Bragi, he's got his back against the wall. He's been driven back hundreds of miles to an old fortress town called Lioantung. He can't go any farther. He's going to make a stand with what's left of Northern and Eastern Armies."
Bragi looked puzzled. "So? What does that mean to me?"
"He won't just lose a battle if he loses Lioantung. He won't just lose Shinsan. The man is fighting for the world. It lives or dies with him."
"Oh, really!" Inger said. "Mist, that's just too much to swallow."
Mist ignored her. She did not like the woman. She spoke directly to the King, though she answered the Queen's predictable objection. "Bragi, Lioantung is the last obstacle between the Deliverer and the heart of the empire. The last defense of regions where people are packed together several thousand to the square mile. If Lioantung goes, there's nothing to stop the Deliverer from devouring the populations of whole provinces."
"All right. You've got me curious. Start from the beginning. I really don't know what you're talking about."
She went back and began with Lord Kuo's intuition about the eastern desert and his having sent Lord Ssu-ma Shih-ka'i to take command. She meant to edit, but found everything gushing out, without any control. She told every detail she knew, up through her recent visit to Lioantung.
"Armies of dead men?" Bragi murmured. "Really?" He seemed unable to choose between horror and amusement. "And he can take over anyone they kill, too?"
"Exactly. He can even control the living if they're not protected, though it's harder. Animals, too."
"The dead rising against the living. It's a Trolledyngjan draug tale come true... Up where I was raised the old folks liked to scare us kids with tales about the dead coming down from the mountains or out of the sea to carry us off. Draugs, we called them. The walking dead. But those were just wintertime stories." He closed his eyes and looked thoughtful for half a minute. "Mist?"
"Yes?"
"You haven't said why you came to me. You've got the toughest army in the world."
"It's all tied up. And because the Deliverer is going to come after you when he's finished with Shinsan."
"Me? Me personally, or just the west in general?"
"You. Very personally."
"Why? I've put a lot of people in the ground, but none that would want to get even so bad they'd get back up again."
"A grudge, Bragi. Definitely a grudge. This dark Deliverer, this warlord of the dead, is driven by hatred. Something twisted and molded and reshaped him till all he cares about is revenge. On Shinsan. On you. Because, Bragi, the Deliverer is Ethrian. My nephew. Your godson. Nepanthe and Mocker's boy."
She expected the news to smack him like a blow from a club, and she was not disappointed. He gulped air like a fish out of water. "But... but... " He stared, unable to accept. The Queen stared at him, her face pallid, one shaky hand held at her lips. Bragi tried to say something, apparently could not.
"It's true, Bragi. I'll swear any oath you want. Something in the east saved him from the Pracchia. He's been out there all this time. That something saved him, made him an instrument of destruction and vessel of hatred, gave him immense power, then lost control. I saw him at Lioantung, Bragi. Physically he looks like you'd expect after all this time. But inside he's not Ethrian anymore. He's more like the embodiment of a natural force gone mad."
Inger croaked something. Bragi groaned. "I believe her. Look at her. She's scared silly. Now we know why Varthlokkur was so damned cranky whenever Ethrian's name came up. He knew."
Mist admitted her fear. "You're right. I'm so frightened I can't think. I just want to run... I keep wishing I'd left it in Lord Kuo's lap. I didn't bargain for this. You know what history will do to me if I can't stop Ethrian? If there is any history?"
Bragi mused, "I really do understand Varthlokkur now."
"What?"
"He knew. He's known for a long time. He's mentioned Ethrian several times since he's been here. Hinting that he might still be alive. Acting like a man wrestling his conscience. Now I know what he meant when he said he couldn't tell Nepanthe because it would destroy her." He levered himself out of his chair. "He even threatened me when I suggested she ought to know there was a chance Ethrian was alive."
Mist looked up at him. He was pale as death. As frightened as she. He believed. Somehow, that took a huge load off her shoulders. Shared fear is softened fear, she thought, recalling one of the lessons taught young soldiers.
"Let's go talk to him," Bragi suggested.
"I will need his help too," she admitted. "And almost certainly Nepanthe's."
The King winced. "Don't expect him to cooperate. He's determined to keep it from her."
"I'll sell him. I have to."
"Be careful what you say. I've never seen him so touchy. He said he'd pull out on me if I even dropped a hint to Nepanthe."
Inger glanced up sharply, startled. A strange look entered her eyes. What the devil? Mist wondered. "Uhm," she grunted. At another time she would have incorporated that bit of intelligence into her plans. Not now, though. All she wanted now was a way out of her dilemma.