by Glen Cook
Ozora barked, “What are you people doing? If you don’t move we’ll have to spend another night camped out with the bugs and mosquitoes.”
Something clicked. Dahl recognized the man on the left. The one on his own right. Not the one who had Aral’s attention, that the girl had mistaken for her uncle.
He did not shout. He said nothing to anyone. He just oozed over to the road to intercept the pair. “Excuse me, sirs. A moment, I beg.”
Both men kept searching the road immediately in front of their feet, shuffling dispiritedly, which willful focus made managing full awareness of their surroundings problematic. It was an ostrich approach to personal camouflage.
The nearer man responded with a dramatic start. He looked up.
Dahl lurched back. “Gods damn me!” He retreated several steps before good sense took over.
Both travelers shifted hands to the hilts of daggers and considered their surroundings.
Haas moved to Kristen, placed himself between her and the road, hoping to control her reaction.
At which point the Blodgett girl blurted, “Uncle Chames?”
Chames? What happened to Bridewell?
The girl galloped to the roadside. She was not at all shy about throwing herself onto one of the men.
Dahl heard him murmur, “Haida, we’re really trying to avoid attracting attention.”
“Oh. Hell! I’m sorry. I got excited.”
Haas moved back toward the travelers, as did Bight Mundwiller, the latter uncertainly. The other Sedlmayrese stopped to gawk.
“Too late, now. The cat has dumped the cream.”
Though she was not interested Michael introduced Ragnarson to the girl as his cousin Leopard Marks. “I forget why we call him that. His real name is Flynn.”
“Because I changed my spots.”
Trebilcock offered no name for the girl, Dahl supposed because he did not know what name she was using. He had not missed him calling her Haida.
The girl retreated into resounding silence.
Haas glared at both men, willing them to do nothing to turn the moment more treacherous than it was. He looked back at Kristen. “Flynn” did the same, having recognized her. And she had recognized him, now. She lacked all color.
They had talked about what this would mean, for her, for them, for the younger Bragi. Though the King’s return was only a theoretical possibility it never seemed vaguely likely outside popular fantasy. Unless…
Dahl looked back up the road. No. They were alone. But…
Shinsan would not arrive in full kit with bands playing if the King was back as their man.
But!
These two had been missing and presumed dead for a year. Now they were sneaking back. Together. That could have immense meaning, perhaps going all the way back to before the King’s dumb eastern adventure.
Dahl turned to Aral Dantice. Aral was Michael’s best friend.
Aral was helping the Sedlmayrese get ready to move out. His moment of surprise past, Aral was making like he had recognized no one.
Had he been running point for the others when Kristen spotted him?
Ozora commanded, “Blodgett girl! Come here! Now!”
She did as directed. Bight followed. He would bark back if the old woman was excessively unreasonable.
The old king said, “Chames, we need to move along. A pleasure to meet you, young man.” He inclined his head toward Kristen. “And your missus. Blessings be upon the babe to come.”
He did not sound sincere.
Dahl suppressed an impulse to explain that there was no need for anger. Only, the Queen Mother could have become pregnant. The displeasure directed her way was not entirely misplaced. They were not always as careful as they should be.
The old king added, “Keep up the good work, son. Maybe we’ll meet again in more comfortable circumstances.” Meaning he saw no reason to trust anyone behind Haas. Longing shown when he looked at the younger Bragi.
“I shall look forward. Good fortune dog your journey, sir.”
“And yours as well.”
The tall old men shuffled on, watched by the Sedlmayrese. Only Ozora said anything, though.
The Blodgett girl answered every question with an elaborate and plausible lie about distant uncles, one of whom she had never met before. The ease with which she dissembled amazed Dahl. She convinced Ozora of nothing, but the old woman did pretend to believe her. She had recognized neither uncle herself.
Dahl wondered what tall tales the girl had spun already and would continue to spin. Clearly, she was one of Michael Trebilcock’s gang.
The Sedlmayrese clattered into the courtyard of their city’s commercial factor station as twilight assembled in Vorgreberg, whereupon the Blodgett girl vanished quicker than a puff of mist. One moment she was playing maiden games with Bight, the next she was not and no one had seen her fade into the gathering shadows.
Definitely one of Michael Trebilcock’s phantoms.
...
Babeltausque ambled into the Twisted Wrench. He visited frequently, evenings. His implied motive was concern over what had happened to Rhys Benedit. Benedit was not convinced. He believed that the wizard wanted an excuse to drink while fishing for the skinny on anything happening amongst the ticks infesting Vorgreberg’s underbelly.
Both men were right.
Benedit was doing better now that the garrison was back but he was not prospering. The soldiers had no money while some potential customers would not share space with the Queen’s men.
“I’ll try the new dark tonight, Rhys. You were right. It is an acquired taste. And I’m acquiring it.”
Benedit produced a pint. Babeltausque kept the man in front of him briefly, considering his eye and damaged face. “Any sight coming back?”
“A little, sir. More than I expected. Better than being all the way blind.”
“I’ll help if I can find a way. This is much better than the last batch.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So what’s on your mind, Rhys?”
“Sir?”
“You’re shuffling like you’re trying to make up your mind if you should tell me something.” Babeltausque strained to produce a smile.
“Uh… Yeah. I guess I am.”
“And?”
Benedit needed a few seconds more. Then he sucked in a deep breath, took the plunge. “That Haida Heltkler. I seen her maybe a hour ago, going past in a big hurry. I made like I never recognized her.”
It took Babeltausque a moment to recall why he ought to know the name. Then, “That’s interesting. Very interesting. Thank you, Rhys.”
“Don’t tell nobody I told you.”
“Told me what? I hardly know you. Top me up.” He pushed an extra groat across the counter, then nursed his beer and eavesdropped. Bar talk focused on the Thingmeet, which would start doing whatever Thingmeets did soon after sunrise tomorrow. The sorcerer was amazed at the popular level of ignorance. The soldiers only cared because extra work would be expected of them.
While Babeltausque lent an ear to that he bent the other to Rhys Benedit.
The publican had gotten into the habit of muttering to himself after his injury. It made everyone uncomfortable. The tick became markedly worse when Babeltausque was around. But folks failed to listen, failed to see that communication was going on.
...
Nathan Wolf joined Babeltausque as soon as he could escape from Inger and Thingmeet preparation. “You have news?”
“The Heltkler girl is back. She was seen outside the Twisted Wrench three hours ago. I want to see her.”
“Carrie won’t like that.” Wolf dreaded the wizard’s lover. The child could deploy a sharper tongue than the Queen herself and was more skilled at using it to get what she wanted.
“Carrie isn’t involved. Heltkler has information we want. Round her up.”
“Any suggestions as to where?”
“Start with that butcher shop. Then try the apothecary. Do whatever you need
to do.”
...
Toby eased away from where he had been eavesdropping, careful to make no noise. Then he raced to his grandfather.
...
A tired-looking Wesson soldier in drooping, frayed livery pounded on the door of the apothecary shop. He was amazed when a man actually responded. He had been here several times lately, to purchase medicines for the doctor, and had never gotten an answer.
“What is it, Fletcher?”
The soldier handed over a letter, made it clear by his stance that he wanted an answer. The apothecary nodded, broke the seal, read.
The soldier thought the man seemed disheartened. After a moment, he said, “I’ll get started right away. It will take time. Have him send you back tomorrow evening for what I can get ready. Blue asparagus seed will be a problem. He should still have some of that, though. It will be cash on delivery from now on. No more credit for the castle.”
“I understand, sir.” The castle owed everybody, including him. “I will relay your message exactly.”
...
Ragnarson raised an eyebrow when Michael Trebilcock returned.
Trebilcock said, “They’re onto us already. Well, onto Haida.”
The girl lay with face on her arms on the table. The three had been sharing a rough meal.
“She passed out after you left. Must of was tireder than me.”
“Playing a role can be exhausting. The stuff she dug up will be useful but I don’t see why she thought she had to get it.”
“She wanted to please you.”
Trebilcock stared at Ragnarson.
“It’s pretty obvious, Michael.”
“Yes. Well. As may be.” He gripped the girl’s right shoulder, shook gently. “Haida. Girl. Wake up. We have to go. Castle soldiers are on their way.”
She got up, groggy, eyes half open, crossed. “Uh?”
“Did you visit somebody on your way here? Or see somebody that you knew?”
“Huh? Nobody. I came straight. Why?”
“Somebody saw you. They knew the Queen’s sorcerer wants to get to know you better. Wolf is coming to get you.”
She was wide awake now. “We need to get out of here!”
“Yes. We do. But don’t panic. Where should we go? After we watch the raid?”
Nobody had an answer. Ragnarson said, “I’ve been gone longer than either of you. I don’t have anywhere left.” The only place that came to mind, Fiana’s crypt, would work only till Inger looked there.
Thinking about Fiana was unproductive. If he started he would not be able to stop. Fiana had been an obsession in her time, as Sherilee had become more recently. He could not shake either woman out of his head. He saw no reason to try.
...
“Well?” Babeltausque asked. The key fact was obvious. Nathan had no cute young cunny in hand.
“There was nobody at the butcher shop. Somebody was in the apothecary shop earlier but not when we got there. Candle smoke was in the air. The doors were unlocked. I think we were expected and they left us no excuses to break stuff. They weren’t generous with clues this time.”
“They got the warning fast. Real fast. Let’s do some checking.”
“It’s late, wizard.”
“As they say, we can sleep all we want after we’re dead.”
There were fewer than forty people resident in, or even part of the commuting staff of, Castle Krief. It took only minutes to determine that neither Toby nor Dr. Wachtel had left. Only three people had gone since Babeltausque’s initial discussion with Nathan Wolf. Colonel Gales, under orders from Her Majesty, had gone for yet another visit to the Thing hall. Inger’s attendant Garyline had gone home to her mother for the night. The mother was dying. Garyline helped two married sisters care for the woman. Finally, there was Freider Fletcher, a Wesson soldier so dim he had trouble remembering how to tie his bootlaces, had gone off duty and had, presumably, pursued his habit of visiting the Twisted Wrench. He was there now, soaking up ale he could afford because small arrears payments had been given the men out of early tax returns coming in because of the Thingmeet.
“Must be sorcery,” Wolf said.
“You might think. Or maybe somebody is lying.”
“You think? We’ll find out. You will find out. I’m sure you will.”
“Right. Though I’m beginning to wonder why we bother.”
“Because we don’t have anything else. We can’t go home. The family enemies in Itaskia have fixed it so we can’t.”
“There is that. Well. Our devoted associate Rhys passed along one more interesting nugget. We should look at that since we can’t catch my favorite girl.”
The sorcerer shivered. He had seen Haida Heltkler just that once, for just a few seconds. She was too old. But still she could get into his head for hours, haunting every thought, like a snatch of song getting stuck in his mind.
“And what would that be?” Nathan interrupted the developing train of obsession.
“Aral Dantice is back, too. He came in with the delegates from Sedlmayr.”
“The gangster.”
“Purported. And smuggler, and probably a lot more besides, including being a known associate of Michael Trebilcock and, probably, Trebilcock’s designated successor.”
“Shall I arrest him?”
“For what? Not to mention, he’ll have ten friends handy for every one we do. And ours are friends only because everyone else is their enemy.”
“Just checking.” Wolf made the slightest head gesture toward the doorway.
More attentive than he had been, Babeltausque knew about the eavesdropper. He felt Toby’s fluttering heartbeat. He said, “I’ve had all the adventure I can stand today. I’m going to turn in.”
Wolf winked. “Good idea. The villains will still be there tomorrow. And we should be fresh for the Queen’s business.”
There was a faint, hasty scurry outside as Wolf headed for the door. Toby was getting sloppy. He had to be used up before he did something so blatant that Babeltausque would no longer be able not to take notice.
Toby and the old doctor had their share of guts, keeping up their espionage after being told outright that their treason was no secret.
...
Like the Blodgett girl, Aral Dantice vanished with no one seeing him go. He reappeared around midnight, Blodgett in tow. He was so exhausted he could barely argue rationally with the gatekeeper. He had several friends. He was smooth enough to get the gateman to show him to quarters set aside for him. He was a resource Ozora Mundwiller wanted kept close to hand. Friends could crowd in with him—and the girl could find herself a place on the floor in the servants’ quarters. Ozora had made no arrangements for her.
She got that much consideration because Bight had a special interest and he was a kid folks could not help but like, including that gateman.
The girl chose to stick with the old men. Made no difference to her that the gateman considered that unseemly.
The gateman never reported their arrival. It was just another event late in a bust day. They went unnoticed till the crowd gathered for breakfast.
†
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
AUTUMN, YEAR 1018 AFE:
STRANGE ATTRACTORS
Varthlokkur hugged Nepanthe long and hard and whispered a suggestion that she be prepared for a busy night. Then he hugged the children, one and all. Ethrian seemed surprised. He sounded honestly puzzled when he asked, “Where Sahmaman?”
“What is with you, Varth?” Nepanthe asked. “What happened?”
“Yeah,” Scalza and Ekaterina chorused as though they had practiced to sync their timing. The girl startled everyone by demanding, “What did you do with that old sourpuss we sent off a couple months ago?”
Varthlokkur smiled broadly. “Presents are on the way. And treats. And fresh fruits and vegetables.” Then he frowned. “Months?”
Yes. Months. She was right. Autumn was well along. “Oh, my!”
“Time and h
aving fun?” Nepanthe proposed. “We’ll do our own catching up while you’re telling us about the mischief you’ve been into.”
The Unborn had gone after delivering Varthlokkur. Ekaterina was visibly disappointed. The wizard scowled, then told her, “It had to go get the presents.” And a quarter ton of fresh foodstuffs that would be appreciated by everyone. “I’ll rest him after that.” Though there was much more work that needed doing, quickly. “Beloved, we need to talk about a new hope that I’ve found for Ethrian.”
On hearing his name, the boy asked, “Where is Sahmaman?” He made the question sound like an ordinary expression of curiosity.
Varthlokkur experimented. “She got lost, Ethrian, and we can’t find her.”
Ethrian’s moment did not last long enough to let him process the wizard’s response.
“What was that?” Nepanthe demanded.
“Me testing a hypothesis. I didn’t get the response I hoped for. But any response is an outcome. As I said, some good did come from my absence. Mist is willing to have her mind experts help bring Ethrian back.”
Nepanthe waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Of course. She’s no altruist. She wants whatever Ethrian knows about… She is determined to go to war with…” He made swooping gestures.
Scalza got it instantly. He started to name the Star Rider, thinking it was a game. His sister snapped, “Quiet, Worm. We don’t name that name anymore. Right, Uncle Varth?”
“Exactly right. How clever you are to grasp that so quickly, on so little evidence, Eka.”
The girl was not embarrassed. Rather, the wizard got the impression that she was irked because she had let too much of her real self show.
That left him a little uncomfortable. It reminded him of a boy of long ago, who had seen his mother burned for having talents legally reserved to men.
There was one critical, dramatic difference. There was no trauma in Ekaterina’s background to twist her into becoming a tormentor of the world.
Varthlokkur’s life proceeded domestically, quietly, for an hour. He enjoyed a family meal. He wound down from the stresses of the world outside. He listened to the relatively minor concerns that stood in the stead of life and death issues here, proving that human beings would get worked up about something and that could be a runny nose if nothing of more consequence could be unearthed.
