“You know what I want,” said Karlini.
“If Iskendarian takes over the city he’ll be in hunting season faster than any deer you’ve ever seen. Will you be satisfied with that, at least for now?”
“If Iskendarian takes over and you hear about it, will you tell me?”
“As I run looking for cover, yes, I will.”
“All right, then,” Karlini grumbled.
Well, that was something. Of course, if Iskendarian did take over, Karlini would have to wait in line while a ballroom full of gods took their shots at him first, from the tenor of what Shaa had heard back at Jill’s temple. “Now,” Shaa said, “to my brother. His making himself a god does change our relationship somewhat.”
“You mean now, when you can’t, you’re willing to kill him?” Karlini sneered.
“Who says I can’t?” said Shaa, rather quietly. “That’s never been the issue. But he shouldn’t have to be killed to be stopped.”
“What if there’s no other way?”
“This time he has to be stopped,” Shaa said, even more quietly, but with clear resolve. “Whatever happens he has brought down on himself. Whatever that takes, it will take. But he has already left himself open to an obvious stroke from us.”
“The ring,” said Tildamire Mont.
“Exactly.”
“But -” sputtered Jurtan Mont. “But wouldn’t your brother have triggered whatever traps Max had left on the ring when he put it on? And didn’t you say it would be too hard to get Max out of the dungeon anyway?”
“My brother knew Max had had the ring and had certainly trapped it,” Shaa told him. “That is one reason he hid behind Jardin, Master of Curses. Knowing Max, his snare would be optimized around the Curse Administrator’s capabilities, as probed by Max during their earlier negotiations. I witnessed this ambush activated by Jardin in my brother’s presence when Jardin put the ring on. Now, it’s possible Max could have created a second-order delayed-action trap as well; not likely, but possible. I’m sure my brother considered that possibility too. The fact that he proceeded to store the ring in an ice chest rather than donning it in my presence argues that his prudence is at a maximum. Eventually, though, he will need its power boost.”
“So what, then?” asked Jurtan. “You can’t put a new trap on the ring now, can you, while it’s in your brother’s possession?”
“Not exactly.” Shaa swiveled his gaze to the recumbent Dortonn, slathered against his will with Shaa’s full stock-on-hand of medicinal ointments and with a sterile drip-line running fluids into his arm. “It is time to bring this gentleman into the discussion. “
The gentleman in question opened his eyes. “I have been listening,” Dortonn croaked. “Why should I help you?”
“Self interest, primarily,” said Shaa. “It would accomplish your mission.”
“Wait a minute,” Jurtan interrupted again. “What are you talking about here? What did I miss?”
“Dortonn is the disciple of Pod Dall, who’s stuck in the ring,” his sister said. “What they seem to be talking about is that Dortonn knows some way to get his master out of the ring.”
Jurtan looked confused. “But if Dortonn knew how to awaken Pod Dall, why hasn’t he done it already?”
Dortonn looked at him as though he was a moron; perhaps he was. “It was dangerous,” Dortonn said. “It is dangerous.”
“And that’s with everything set up properly, with enough time, in a peaceful environment,” Karlini put in. “Even if the work could be done at a distance, under battlefield conditions it could be suicidal.”
“The release spells are that dangerous?” asked Tildamire.
“No,” said Karlini, “it’s what you get after the spells have worked you have to watch out for. You try being cooped up in a ring for months and see how you feel when you get out. You know what happened the other time Pod Dall started to come through; Roosing Oolvaya was your city.”
“You mean he’d lash out at whoever was helping him?” Jurtan protested. “That doesn’t make sense. He’d be grateful; you’d have rescued him.”
“Yeah,” said Tildamire, “and maybe he’d think you’d taken your own good time about it.”
“Ah,” said Shaa, “but what if Pod Dall had someone else handy against whom to take out his wrath? Someone closer to hand. For example, someone wearing the ring?”
CHAPTER 11
Was he dying? Fradi wondered. He was in extreme pain, or to be just as precise the rest of his body had abruptly caught up with the distress of his hand. But dying? He would just have to see. There was nothing he could do about it anyway, since none of his muscles would move.
But he would be dead now, were it not for the countermeasure he had deployed when he launched his attack against his former patron, a defense which he had somehow never mentioned to the Scapula. The Scapula, his ally. Were it not for that small foresight he most likely would be mouldering now, rather than trying to understand the menacing twists and turns of the Scapula’s own treacherous game.
“Treacherous” was the only word for it, clearly. As someone with his own history in that area Fradjikan felt thoroughly equipped to recognize the hand of a master of the field. As his ally, the Scapula had encouraged him in his suspicion of his ultimate fate at the hands of his patron once his task was complete, had counseled him on the key signs to beware, on tactics of response, on timing - had even provided him with a “carefully tuned” weapon for use at the appropriate moment. The weapon had performed the bidding of its master, but that master was clearly the Scapula. Instead of paralyzing or eradicating Fradi’s patron, it had left him merely weakened, wounded perhaps, stripped of his mystic mantle of office to be sure, but scarcely out of the picture.
And then there had been the Scapula himself, appearing on cue to demonstrate his utility and perspicacity to Fradi’s patron, having not only forecast such an attack but now fortuitously arrived to nullify the attacker. But Fradjikan was not dead, only incapacitated and immobilized. Could the Scapula have erased him on the spot? Surely, given the power he was now manifesting. Which obviously meant that the Scapula still had some role for him he was yet to play...
The most frustrating part of being paralyzed in this particular place was the restorative machinery that surrounded him. Fradi had benefited from its benediction before, and perhaps (although it seemed doubtful) had been subjected to its effects even today. Was there no way for him to get off the floor and activate the equipment himself? From their conversation as they had left the room, the Scapula and Fradi’s former patron, whose name was apparently Vladimir, would not be absent long. If the Scapula’s parting remark could be taken at face value, their absence would however be long enough that Fradi would never see the end of it. “You don’t have a dungeon?” he had responded to Vladimir. “Well, it can’t be helped. Just lock the doors to this place, why don’t you, and let the assassin expire at his own pace.” Of course, the pace Fradi was trying to choose for his own was extremely slow.
Now, there was the rejuvenation coffin above his head. The first time Fradi had been here he had awakened within it as well. On that occasion, though, he seemed to vaguely recall that the thing had been full of liquid, which had just been draining away as he had returned to consciousness. During that visit his orientation had still been mystical, too. He had seen the workings of the gods and had considered them unknowable. His sophistication in these matters had advanced considerably over the subsequent period.
It was now clear to him that there was very little in the realm of the gods that was inherently unknowable through being beyond the capacity of human ken. Things might remain unknown through being secret, but that was lack of knowledge of a very different order, one thoroughly familiar to any sentient of whatever stature in life. No, the truth appeared to be quite the opposite of providing transcendental infallibility for gods. From his direct encounters, from his research, and from the events of this day, Fradi had come to appreciate that his own former patron, Vladimir, Lord of Storms, could scarcely be called infallible or transcendent by any reasonable observer with a drop of residual sincerity in their makeup.