THIRTEEN

 

The game again

 

 

1

 

Zinixo had shriveled into a knot in the depths of the Opal Throne, leaving nothing of himself visible except boots and shins and forearms. The king and queen of Krasnegar were already on their knees; the little princess imperial buried her face in her mother’s skirt. Everyone else tried to kneel to the God.

The seating had been built for imps. Even they had trouble finding room for kneeling. So did djinns and merfolk. Jotnar and trolls just made room, and sounds of splintering timber exploded through the Rotunda. Then there was only the child weeping and Zinixo’s shrill screaming.

“Let there be silence!” the God said, and there was silence. The voice of a God was not especially loud, yet it rolled like thunder.

Sounding muffled, Gath said, “KADIE? Is that you, Kadie?”

“No longer,” the God said. “Come out from under that throne, silly!”

Gath squirmed and wriggled until he got his arms free and could gain leverage on the base of the throne. Then he hauled himself out, began to rise… He choked, averting his face away from the incandescent glory. He settled on his knees beside Lord Umpily and bowed his head in reverence.

Slowly, all over the Rotunda, hands were rising to cover eyes as people peered over seats and bent shoulders. The God was a figure of roiling white flame, too bright to look upon, although They cast no shadow.

The Opal Throne crashed to the paving with a bang that shook the Rotunda and could be felt through the bones. Zinixo bounced. Ears rang.

“Rap?” the God said, and Their voice, although still tuneful and feminine, was subtly different. “Why do you weep?”

“For the loss of…” His voice broke. “Loss of my daughter!”

“But she is not lost. Rather do We weep for you, who are mortal and transient! This glory We know should by rights have been yours. Do you understand now?”

“I understand. Forgive my lack of faith, God.”

“You see now why you had to be warned?”

“I do. There would not have been time, else.”

“Gods are made of love, but there is more than one kind of love! And Inosolan? Do you also accept?”

There was a long pause, then the queen said, “The Gods’ will be done.”

There was another pause before the God continued, still in the second voice. “It will suffice. We are the God of Rescues, for in our mortal form We prayed for rescue and We did rescue, each to each. It is traditional for a new God to announce Their presence by a public miracle, so that Their name may be added to the lists. All now present bear witness! We hereby decree, as token of Our Godhead, that this chamber and this place shall be for all time proof against the use of sorcery.”

“Great!” Gath said. He was closest of all — it seemed amazing that the white radiance did not scorch him. “What happens with the merfolk?”

“That, too, of course!” the God said snappily, in Their first voice. “We’d thought of that, stupid.”

“Sorry,” Gath muttered.

“Now, Sorcerers, We shall see what good you can find in the evil of this day.”

With those dread words, the God vanished.

 

* * *

 

The first to recover was the dwarf.

Zinixo leaped from the throne and sprinted toward the eastern exit. Dwarves were not built for sprinting, and several male jotnar were sitting next to the passageway he had chosen. They sprang over the edge and plunged into the canyon as he passed beneath them. Whether any of them actually landed on him is unknown, but he was caught before he reached the door. He screamed once.

The jotnar returned to the auditorium, carrying him. They paraded around the arena, waving to the hysterically jubilant crowd. There were four of them — that much is certain, because two circled clockwise and two counterclockwise. Later reports that the usurper had been ripped into five pieces may therefore have been slightly exaggerated.

 

 

2

 

The loyalty spell had snapped in a pang of heartbreaking loss. Shandie felt as if he had just awakened from a nightmare, or discovered that his best friend was a traitor. He needed time to adjust, and if he felt that way, having been enthralled for only a few minutes, what of those who had been Zinixo votaries for years? They might not recover for months. At last he had a chance to speak with his wife and child… He turned to Eshiala as the jotnar went raining down on the dwarf. Zinixo screamed.

The killers’ lightning-fast reaction told Shandie that he had no time for family or personal feelings. The next few minutes would be a pivot point in history. No one had expected this! With the old order in ruins, a new order must be proclaimed or chaos would prevail. Something would replace what Zinixo had torn down. The new millennium began now, for better or for worse. It was up to Shandie to seize control of the gathering.

He ran across to the Opal Throne — passing Lord Umpily, who was just now struggling to his feet — and sprang up onto the seat the dwarf had so recently vacated. He was standing there with his arms raised in triumph as the blood-spattered giants returned and marched around, waving their gruesome trophies. He let the first hubbub fade a little, then bellowed at the top of his lungs:

“Praise to the Gods for this deliverance!”

A ragged “Amen!” rolled through the Rotunda.

The audience had given him its attention, but only for a moment. Perhaps he had an advantage in that he had never been a sorcerer. If sorcery was banned from the chamber, then most of the audience must be feeling blind and deaf, but he could sense their mood changing by the second as they began to comprehend all the implications of the God’s miracle.

The thrones of the Four had disappeared. No matter…

“Wardens, take your places!”

The three shot him odd glances. Then Lith’rian, Raspnex, and Grunth stalked to the platforms where those thrones had been. A mutter of disagreement rumbled and grew like an approaching earthquake. Men were rising to their feet.

“Emine’s Protocol is ended!” Shandie cried at the top of his voice. “The new protocol begins!”

That was a little better. That was more what the audience wanted. It raised a halfhearted cheer. But other voices were rising, also. Imminent riot crackled in the air like lightning.

“I made certain promises!” Shandie yelled. “I now confirm them! Sorcerer Ishist?”

Gnomes? What did the imperor want with gnomes? The muttering dwindled as speakers paused to listen. Some of those who had risen sat down again.

“I am here, Imperor!”

The thin voice was barely audible. Half the crowd said Sssh! to the other half.

“I stand by my promise to Oshpoo. I shall pull my legions from Guwush! Will you save time and further bloodshed? When the orders are cut, will you convey them to the troops by sorcery?”

“Gladly we will!”

The hubbub died to an astonished muttering as the spectators realized that history was taking shape in front of their eyes.

“Witch Grunth?”

The huge woman stood on the western dais, hunched and grizzled, eyeing the young imperor with open skepticism. “Yes, Mundane Brother of the Center?”

“I shall take immediate steps to end the impressment of trolls in Pithmot! You have our word.”

She bared her great fangs. “My son is more concerned with that than I am. Convince him of your good faith — if you can.”

Sweat trickled into Shandie’s eyes. If he could not even hold the wardens on his side, then explosion was inevitable. “I hereby appoint him proconsul with plenipotentiary powers. Will that satisfy you?”

A troll? Astonishment rippled across the hall. Some of the imps cried out in disgust, but that rallied the other races. A gruff bass voice began a cheer and it was taken up. That was better, but there was still no real enthusiasm. Shandie caught his breath. At eighteen he had begun his military career in earnest when he faced down the Creslee Mutiny. This was worse than that, because he had a wife and child here with him. He had learned a few things since those days, though.

“Friends, we are one warden short. Let us give tribute to Warlock Olybino, who died to proclaim the new protocol! A minute’s silence for a hero and a martyr!”

It was a sleazy trick, but it worked. They had all seen Olybino die. Most of them had helped kill him.

Of course only Shandie himself could end the silence. He allotted the dead hero about forty seconds, then spoke again. “The warlock decreed that in future new wardens should be elected, and I heartily agree. Let us make that a keystone of the new protocol that we must now forge! Let his own replacement be the first elected warden! Whom do you wish to be the new warlock of the east?”

The reaction was even faster than he had expected. The audience roared a name.

Rap and Inos and their son had been locked in a three-way embrace, mourning their own loss and paying no heed to millennia turning. Now the king broke loose and swung around, his face black.

“No!” Rap said.

Shandie chuckled silently. Some chance!

He raised his arms and his voice again. “He declines! Tell me once more: Whom do you wish to be the fourth warden?”

This time the roar was instantaneous and seemed likely to lift the dome off the Rotunda.

“You seem to be the unanimous choice, your Majesty!” Shandie said.

The faun scowled horribly and looked to his wife and son.

They grinned at him.

“No!” Rap said.

Only two or three people in all history had ever refused a warden’s throne, and this made five times for him. He had invented the protocol, led the revolt, been the only sorcerer in the world not votarized by Zinixo, and he had no mundane loyalties except to his own obscure little kingdom, not even a loyally of race. His prayer had brought the God. He was the inevitable choice.

Shandie looked around cheerfully. “We must convince a faun, brothers and sisters! Tell me that name again.”

Louder still: “RAP!”

Rap glared at Shandie and shook his head.

With anyone else, Shandie might have brought up the daughter’s sacrifice, but not with this man.

“King Rap! Remember the millennium! Will you have the history books mourn for what might have been? ‘If only Rap had accepted the warlock’s throne,’ they will say, ‘then the bad times might have been averted.’”

Rap scowled.

His wife gave him a gentle push.

With a grimace, he stalked across to the vacant platform where the Gold Throne had once stood. He stopped before it, paused for a moment, head down, as if in thought. The Rotunda was breathless. Then he turned.

“I have conditions! Four conditions.”

“Name them!”

“First, there shall be no more votarism.”

“Agreed!” Shandie said, and looked to the audience. “Agreed?” He did not ask the wardens. At the moment they did not matter.

“Agreed!” roared the assembled sorcerers.

“And no more shielding! Sorcery shall be done openly, and never to do harm!”

“Agreed!”

Again Rap pulled a face, as if he had been hoping for an excuse to withdraw. “Third… You heard the God decree this building immune to sorcery. This is Longday. Let us hold a Sorcerers’ Moot here on Longday every year — to elect wardens, to judge their performance, and to approve their actions.”

This time the roar was louder yet, and tailed away slowly. Shandie glanced around. Raspnex was leering. Grunth looked impressed. Lith’rian was white with fury.

Rap seemed to sigh. “And finally, I think we need a Council of Sorcery to advise the wardens. Twelve, one delegate elected from each race. Their first task will be to draw up the text of the new protocol.”

The cheering began slowly for that one, then surged higher and higher as the audience saw the implications. Shandie had never heard an inkling of this proposal before, but it was brilliant. It would shackle the wardens hand and foot and neck, as the Emine’s Protocol never had. Rap could not possibly have made that up on the spur of the moment. He must have foreseen this whole little drama, but when had he had time to do that?

Three thousand sorcerers were on their feet now, a rhythmic shout of Rap! Rap! Rap! beating the air like a drum.

The new warlock stepped up on the platform and bowed to the assembly.

 

 

3

 

This could go on all day! Inos looked around the crowded rotunda. Everyone seemed ready to stay put until winter. The fat imp, whoever he was, was sitting all alone on the floor, clutching a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. He seemed to have forgotten it, though, being totally engrossed in the proceedings. Shandie was making another speech, something to do with elections for the proposed Council of Sorcery. Glittering in his orders and decorations up there on the throne, he was displaying a remarkable skill in politics, but he had been trained for that all his life. What of his family? Ignored if not forgotten, Eshiala knelt on the floor, trying to comfort a hungry, terrified, and desperate child.

Inos herself had not had anything to eat yet, either, and felt faint because of it.

And what of Krasnegar? Against his will, Rap had been sucked into a geopolitical swamp. He would do a fine job, but he would not wriggle free of it in short order, so Inos would have to attend to their kingdom by herself. Gath? Gath was staring entranced at his father the warlock, but Rap would have no more spare time for fathering than he would for ruling Krasnegar, and the thought of a fourteen-year-old heir apparent loose in the jungles of the Imperial court was enough to give her a migraine. Once the mothers of Hub learned about him, he wouldn’t last a week.

Inos opened her mouth —

And then closed it. Gath was still only a boy, but he had fought with sorcerers, sailed with raiders, and proved himself a hero in public — and that was just this morning. What else he might have achieved in the last couple of months did not bear thinking about. If she tried to order her son around now like the child he was, she would create a major conflict. Tact was needed.

“Gath?” she whispered.

He jumped and looked down at his mother with his father’s gray eyes. “Mom?”

“I need your help!”

“Oh?” He swelled. “Yes, Mom?” His smile revealed the tooth that Brak had broken for him, the day they left Krasnegar. She wondered if young Brak had been rotting in the royal dungeon ever since.

“Krasnegar!”

He blinked as if he had never heard the name before. “What about it?”

“I must go back there! You have sorcerer friends, don’t you?”

“Yes!” He beamed. “Several, actually.”

“I knew I could depend on you! Come on, then.”

She walked over to Eshiala. Even such beauty as the impress’ was barely proof against such a day. She looked up with pathetic relief as she saw help approach.

Inos smiled comfortingly. “This will go on for hours!” she said. “Why don’t you come and have lunch with me?”

 

* * *

 

As they left the auditorium, Inos looked back and saw both Rap and Shandie staring after them. She waved a cheerful farewell and kept on going, along a corridor half full of stacked lumber.

“I’m not sure I know the way!” Eshiala said.

“Master Jaurg can find it. Can’t you?” Inos said.

The blind youth smiled sadly. He had a hand on Gath’s shoulder. “Not easily, your Majesty. Once we are outside the Rotunda, then I shall be a sorcerer again.”

“Of course — foolish of me. Well, let’s just try. I wonder where all the workmen are?”

“Longday is a holiday,” the impress pointed out. “But what if there are guards on the outer doors?”

“You’re the impress!” Inos said cheerfully. “Order them to report to Guwush immediately. Gath, can you carry Uomaya?”

Gath obviously realized now how he had been trapped. He scowled, but he lifted the little girl. Maya was almost beyond protest.

“Just don’t tell me to comb my hair!” he muttered crossly.

“I was thinking of it,” Inos said.

 

* * *

 

It was early morning in Krasnegar. The sky was a washy blue, the sun lower than expected and the air cool, as the royal party materialized in the forecourt of the castle. A few wandering pedestrians gaped in rank amazement. The man-at-arms at the gate dropped his pike with a clang.

“Well, it’s still here, anyway!” Inos said. Dear, dowdy, down-at-the-heels little town! How small and shabby it looked!

Registering relief, Gath deposited a squirming Maya on the cobbles. “Everything seems all right.” He grinned. “We’re going to eat soon! Not you, though, Mom.” His prescience was working again.

Inos shivered as the climate bit through her thin Thumian skirt and blouse. “Why not me?”

“Because the council’s in session!”

She felt a rush of relief that made her tremble. If the council was still meeting, then the kingdom had not dissolved in civil war. And it had not been flattened by the usurper. “Who’s in charge?”

“Er — That’s queen’s work.” Gath’s face had assumed an odd expression. “Jaurg and I will be disposing of a roast kid.” He glanced at the impress. “With your help, too, ma’am, of course.”

“Excellent beer you have here, Atheling,” Sorcerer Jaurg remarked with a smile — either to show that Gath was not the only one with prescience, or just to give his mother something else to worry about. Gath was a beer drinker now?

Eshiala was staring up in astonishment at the spiky towers of Inisso’s castle, black against the pale northern sky. Maya had uttered a whoop and gone racing off after the white pigeons. Bystanders were dropping to their knees to honor their long-lost queen. Ignoring his fallen pike, the guard rushed in through the gate to spread the news.

“Come on, then!” Inos said, starting for the gate. She waved graciously at the kneeling citizens, and they began to cheer. Pigeons clattered noisily upward to escape the princess imperial.

 

* * *

 

They were halfway across the bailey when a small impish woman in a fancy gown and bonnet came scurrying out the main door to meet them.

Inos felt a jolt of surprise. Who was this? If the council was indeed in session — and while Gath might evade questions, he was never wrong when he did issue a prediction — then officials like Lin would be unavailable. But why had the guards summoned this unknown matron? The woman curtseyed. “You are welcome, welcome, your Majesty! Welcome back!” Whoever she was, her manner hinted that she was returning the keys.

“Thank you. It is good to be back.”

The small woman glanced at the others and her eyes widened. “And Prince Gathmor! You have grown, your Highness, if I may say so!” She bobbed a smaller curtsey to him, glanced over Eshiala and Maya inquisitively and then said, “And his Majesty is also well?”

Inos drew a deep breath, but fortunately Gath’s supernormal reactions diverted her explosion.

“Oh, Dad will be along later. He’s busy saving the world, still. Mom, this is Mistress Sparro.”

“I don’t believe we have met?” Inos inquired sweetly.

“I never had the honor of being presented, ma’am. The chairman and I were married after you left.”

“The chairman?”

Gath was purple with suppressed secrets. “The chairman of the council, of course, Mom. Who do you think has been holding the kingdom together while you’ve been away?”

That was precisely what Inos did not know. Gath was only aware of such things because he was going to find them out shortly. He was not going to tell her anything.

“Indeed, and my husband has done a wonderful job, if I may say so!” Mistress Sparro declared. Modesty was apparently not one of her greater afflictions.

Inos would prefer to judge the state of the kingdom for herself. “Eva and Holi?”

“They’re fine!” Gath said enthusiastically. “Boy, has Holi grown!”

That was all right, then. The children could be greeted when she had time to greet them properly. “Mistress Sparro, please see to our guests.” Inos pulled a name out of the sky. “Lady Aquiala and her daughter, and Master Jaurg…”

Mistress Sparro was curling her lip at the young jotunn. His breeches might be adequate dress in Nordland, but Krasnegarians regarded short sleeves as daring and bare chests as obscene.

“Master Jaurg is our new court sorcerer,” Inos added spitefully. With Mistress Sparro’s squeal of alarm ringing in her ears, the queen swept into her castle.

 

* * *

 

She stormed along corridors and raced up stairs — always stairs, in Krasnegar. People leaped out of her way with cries of astonishment and joy. She threw open the door of the council chamber and marched in.

There were only a dozen or so gathered along the big table. At this time of year, most of the citizens had duties elsewhere. Familiar faces turned with frowns to the intruder and broke into smiles of delight. Chairs scraped back. Elderly men and women heaved themselves to their feet, and for a moment nobody said a word. They were, perhaps, too overcome with surprise. Inos was completely out of breath.

And speechless. The man at the head of the table was old Captain Efflio — retired sailor, and a recent arrival in Krasnegar. She had forgotten all about Efflio, the most junior member of the council. But of course when Kadie had dragged her away from a meeting of the council, she had put the captain in charge. He had been the only one present not worked up over some trivial argument, and she had expected to be gone for only a few minutes. So Efflio had continued to run the kingdom all this time?

She smiled then, at the others, the lifetime friends and loyal subjects. Ancient old Foronod, Kratharkran the smith huger than ever, Mistress Oglebone, ancient Bishop Havermore, Lin with his monstrous walrus mustache… She was home, and it was all right. Home was safe!

“Good morning!” she said.

“Welcome back, your Majesty!” Efflio bowed, spoiling the effect with a loud wheeze. The spell was broken and all the rest of the council echoed him, bowing and curtseying.

“It is wonderful to be home! And I gather you ladies and gentlemen have kept the plants watered while I was away? You are looking very well, Factor…”

By the time she had moved around the table, greeting all of them — even allowing Lin to give her a hug — Efflio had moved away from the president’s chair. He wore a nervous smile and his wheezing was more noticeable.

Inos had recovered her breath. “And you, Captain! I gather you have managed to keep the dogs and cats from coming to blows?” Muddled metaphor! Oh, well, they must all know what she meant.

“My honor, ma’am!”

“I am most grateful,” Inos said. And lucky! Probably only this wily old outsider could have kept peace between imp and jotunn for so long. She sat down, and the others resumed their seats. Clutching a bundle of papers, Efflio moved to a vacant chair.

“Can you bring me up to date quickly?” Inos said. She saw dismay on the impish faces, especially Lin’s. “Or perhaps I should start by bringing you up to date! It is a very long story, though. I am well, as you can see. I have been traveling in far lands, involved in very important matters.”

She considered telling them that she had begun her day in Thume, at the other end of the world, and then decided to take it more slowly. “My husband is well, also. He has assumed some duties that may require a good deal of his time. He has just been appointed —” She drew a deep breath. “— Warden of the east.”

Jaws dropped.

Eyebrows rose. King Rap had always denied being a sorcerer.

“Prince Gath has returned with me, and he is well. You probably won’t recognize him! I gather Eva and Holi are well, also?”

The pain under her heart throbbed. She fell silent, waiting for the inevitable question — Princess Kadie? What could she tell them? Probably nothing at all, because the Gods kept Their origins secret.

“It’s wonderful to know you are all safe!” the bishop proclaimed. “We should have the bell rung! And a special service of thanksgiving, of course! How soon do you suppose his Majesty will be able…”

They were not going to ask!

Well, that was a problem to consider at leisure, or perhaps a solution to a problem. She waited for a momentary pause in the ecclesiastical diatribe —

“Now, how fares Krasnegar?” She turned to Efflio.

He shook his head sadly. “In dire straits, ma’am! Or it will be soon. No ships have come this year — none at all, none even from Nordland!”

“Well, that’s hardly surprising!” Inos said. Then she registered their blank stares. They did not know! This was sleepy little Krasnegar at the rim of the world, and it had never heard the news.

“There has been a major war! The goblins invaded the Impire. Most of Julgistro has been devastated. That’s why they sent no ships! And the jotnar have, ah, other plans this year.”

“And why no goblins came?” old Foronod exclaimed in his creaky voice.

“Of course! The goblins have been virtually wiped out.”

She watched them wrestle with the horrible tidings. True disaster was hard to comprehend in Krasnegar, where a lost fishing boat could plunge the kingdom into mourning. Except for Efflio and the bishop, none of them had ever been more than ten leagues from home in their lives.

Efflio’s wheezing was growing even louder. He was leaning back in his chair, struggling. Inos looked at him in alarm.

“I shall be… all right, ma’am. Just the shock.” He chuckled with difficulty. “Relief, I mean! The Impire is safe?”

“It is now, but it has suffered a cruel blow.”

“And we?” Lin said loudly from farther down the table. “Without the supplies from the south, Inos, we face serious shortages for the winter — salt and grain especially. Medicines, too. We were talking about it when you came in.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” She laughed, and saw their amazement. She was going to enjoy this…

The door creaked open, and a young man walked in with his eyes closed. He wore a floor-length black gown emblazoned with stars and occult symbols in gold and silver, and his conical hat almost reached the ceiling. His former wispy red beard had become a magnificent torrent of ginger hair reaching to his waist. He inclined his head respectfully to Inos and calmly headed for a vacant chair. The counselors gaped.

Gath’s friend the sorcerer was very little older than Gath himself. Which of them had dreamed up that grotesque outfit?

“You may have need of me, ma’am,” he remarked confidently.

“Indeed, I believe we do have need of you,” Inos said, making the best of things. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Master Jaurg, who has agreed to join us here for a while. As I told you, my husband will have other demands on his time in the near future. I have therefore appointed Master Jaurg court sorcerer in his absence.”

A sorcerer? In Krasnegar? As Inos spoke the counsellors’ names, the youth turned a grave blind face on each in turn and they shrank back in their chairs, almost gibbering. Obviously Jaurg was enjoying himself, and she could not honestly deny that she was, too.

“Now, Master Jaurg, we seem to have need for certain supplies. Salt, for example.”

“Quite easy, ma’am. Just tell me where you want it put.”

“And medicines?”

Jaurg opened his mouth and then paused. He turned a disapproving frown on Captain Efflio, whose labored breathing now sounded like a bag of newborn kittens on their way to the harbor. Sailors were notoriously superstitious.

“Is that noise necessary. Captain?”

Unable to speak, Efflio just shook his head.

“The captain is afflicted with asthma, Court Sorcerer,” Inos said.

“Oh?” The jotunn’s silver brows drooped lower. “Do you mind if I cure him, then?”

Sudden silence.

“Now, ma’am,” the sorcerer said. “Medicines, you said. What do you need medicines for?”

 

 

4

 

The Queen’s parlor at Krasnegar was a shabby, homely room. It had a lived-in air composed of peat scent mingled with hints of candles and polish and leather and dogs. The pictures and paneling had faded, the rug was worn almost threadbare in front of the sagging, overstuffed chairs. Accumulated clutter of generations lurked in corners, on bookshelves, all over the mantel shelf of an enormous stone fireplace — ornaments, well-thumbed volumes, stuffed birds, golden candlesticks, silver inkwells, carved crystal decanters.

Eshiala had never seen any chamber quite like it. Her parents would have dismissed it as hopelessly dowdy and old-fashioned, and it would certainly be spurned by servants within the palace in Hub. Yet somehow it fitted her mood like a favorite old slipper.

She felt more relaxed than she could remember being in months. Twelve months, probably — ever since Shandie had returned from Qoble and resumed their marriage. She had eaten a large meal. Maya had been whisked away by servants and Princess Eva. The usurper was dead, most horribly dead.

Ylo was dead, too, and Shandie was alive…

A small pile of peat smoldered in the great hearth, although the warmth was not needed. In fact, one of the windows was open, and a murmur of surf drifted up from the sea far below, but now Inos was pulling the drapes, leaving only a slit of light from each of the windows.

“What time is it anyway?”

Inos chuckled and settled into the opposing chair. “Middle of the afternoon, I think.” She wriggled herself comfortable, pounding a stubborn cushion. “But Krasnegar time is not the same as Hubban time, or Thumian time, so I’m thoroughly confused.”

“Will the sun set at all?”

“Not on Longday. It’s never easy to tell the time in summer here. People forget to sleep for days, and then suddenly drop in their tracks. It can be quite funny to see.”

“I should be going back.”

Her hostess shook her head. “Shandie knows where you are. You’d be one more problem he doesn’t need right now. Can’t have two impresses around the palace! He knows where you are and he knows you’re safe. I’m sure he’s glad not to have to worry about you for the time being.”

That was wonderful rationalization. What else was there to say?

The green eyes were as sharp as rapiers. “He still loves you, you know. He may not be very good at showing it, but I’m sure he still loves you. Shandie is a very clever man and he will want you back.”

Eshiala nodded miserably. She was afraid of that. She did not love Shandie. She had never loved him. Ylo had taught her what love felt like, and it had been quite, quite different. Her heart had died with Ylo.

“An impress of Pandemia bearing another man’s child?” she said. “That’s treason! Shandie can have me put to death for that.”

Inos laughed. “Not very likely!” She sounded quite sure, but she probably knew the imperor now much better than Eshiala ever had. “Never mind what he wants! What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” She had given the future no thought, except to acknowledge that it would be a desert, a barren solitude stretching as far as mind could reach, with no Ylo in it. With Ylo, anywhere would be a paradise. Without him, nowhere could be.

She would much prefer never to see the court again. A nunnery would suit her perfectly, or Krasnegar, even — any quiet haven where no one knew her or ever wanted to put her on display. But Maya was heir presumptive and belonged to the realm. Maya would be returned to the palace. Eshiala had lost the man she loved and now must lose her child, too.

Inosolan had lost a child today, also. A few hours ago she had watched her daughter burned away until not even ash remained. Not dead, but lost forever. If Inos could bear her bereavement so well, then Eshiala should try to be as strong. But few women could ever match Inos. She was determined and gentle, motherly and queenly, understanding and assertive, all at the same time.

“I am sorry about Kadie!” Eshiala blurted.

Inos shrugged wistfully. “The Gods warned us that we must lose a child. We had two years’ warning, two years to adjust to the idea. And in a sense she is not really lost.” She stared at the quietly hissing fire. “When I am as old as the castle, Kadie will still be as she is now. When Krasnegar crumbles to dust, she will be here to see. That takes a little getting used to, that idea! But it is a comfort.”

“What will you tell the people?”

“Nothing. The Gods do not allow that secret to be spoken of. It seems that others will not even miss her. That helps, and yet it doesn’t help, if you can—”

There was a tap on the door.

Inos stretched herself comfortably into her chair and covered a yawn. “That will be Shandie, I expect.”

Eshiala quailed. “How can you tell?”

“Because I said I was not to be disturbed except by Rap or a visitor from the Impire. I didn’t know what name he’d use. If you don’t want to see him, then say so. He’s not imperor here.”

“He will have a sorcerer with him!”

Inos smiled grimly, not moving from her chair. “The castle gates are closed. I’ve never ordered that before! But the castle is shielded from sorcery, so he can’t enter unless you want him to. Say the word and he will be sent away.”

That thought conjured strange visions: the Impire besieging the castle at Krasnegar, the Imperial Navy in the harbor, an imperor bringing an army to rescue his daughter…

“Of course I must see him.”

Inos smiled approvingly and rose. “May as well get it over with! I’ll send him in here, then. You will not be disturbed.” She came over and laid a comforting hand on Eshiala’s shoulder. “Be honest, all right? Only absolute truth will serve now, for both of you. And for Maya, too.”

Eshiala nodded, and was alone.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes, she thought. Five minutes to send word to the gate and five more for Shandie to arrive. Perhaps a few more for Inos to lecture him. She stood at a window and stared out at the blue of the Winter Ocean, white scars of breakers over the reefs, white birds. She rehearsed her Speech, the Speech she had been preparing for three days, the Speech that would never come out the same way twice and reached no sort of ending but just went on and on.

She must, of course, submit to whatever he wanted. He was the imperor and would decide: to put her in a nunnery, send her into exile, chop off her head… or take her to bed. Gods! She shivered. Not that! Not so soon, please Gods! Lying on her back in the dark, with Shandie pulling up her nightdress and her trying not to remember Ylo’s touch, Ylo’s banter, Ylo’s body…

She was standing by the fireplace when Shandie opened the door, came in briskly, and turned to close it. She sank to her knees on the hearth mat and bowed her head so she need not look at him as he strode across to her.

His silver-buckled shoes came into view, and then his pearl-gray hose as he knelt down, also, about an arm’s length in front of her. What? Why? Was this some sort of trick? Disconcerted, she forgot the Speech completely. She froze. Only her heart was still alive, clamoring like an alarm bell.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said. “I just couldn’t get away any sooner! You do understand that?”

She nodded, not looking up. No matter how tightly she clenched her hands, they would not stop shaking.

“I am deeply, deeply sorry about Ylo,” Shandie said. “I mourn him greatly. He was the most valuable aide I had or could ever hope for, but I shall miss him even more as a friend. I know your loss is far greater than mine, though. I offer my deepest sympathy.”

She looked up then, shocked beyond measure, but the coal-black eyes were solemn. If this was some cruel mockery, then it was well hidden.

Shandie had always been thin. He was thinner. He was weatherbeaten and needed his second shave of the day. His plain gray doublet was nothing like the finery he had sported in the Rotunda. His eyes were burning brighter than ever. She could not meet them.

He seemed puzzled by her reaction. “Did you think… I honor his memory! If Ylo were here, I would make him a prince of the realm! He died defending my child and the woman I love — how can I not honor him? Had he lived, how could I not reward him? Nothing would be too good for him.”

The lump in her throat was choking her. Why must he speak of Ylo?

“And he saved me, too, Eshiala. Did he tell you of that?”

She shook her head, staring at the hearth.

“No, he wouldn’t. Ylo never saw himself as a hero, although he was, many times. He never took himself seriously. And he saved you at Yewdark. Oh, that unspeakable Ionfeu! If I ever set eyes on that man again, I shall have him racked!” Shandie growled furiously. “Hardgraa, too. Idiots! Blundering, witless idiots!”

“They meant well,” she whispered.

“So did I, and I left you in the care of a pair of bungling cretins! Will you ever forgive me?”

“My lord! It is I who must ask forgiveness.”

“No, it isn’t!” Shandie snapped. He was blushing like a boy. “Eshiala, I was not faithful to you!”

But —

“I let Ylo talk me into… No, I will not blame him! I am responsible for my own sins. Waitresses, bar girls! It was disgraceful, and I am abjectly, thoroughly ashamed! I never did that before, you know, and I swear I never will again. Please, please, will you forgive me?”

She felt her face flame. “You mock me, my lord!”

“No! Never!”

“But Ylo and I —”

“That was nothing! You thought I was dead, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes…”

“I did not have any such excuse!”

“Ylo said the gobl—”

“He wasn’t lying. He saw me go down and the goblins take me. That’s what he told you, isn’t it? Well, then, Ylo did not lie to you. You believed yourself a widow. I knew I was committing adultery.”

This was all, crazily, backward! A married woman carrying another man’s child and her husband was asking forgiveness? She blinked tears away. “But I knew how Ylo was with women and I let him…”

“Ylo?” Shandie was trying to smile, although the red flames still burned on his cheeks. “Ylo was the most incredible womanizer the Impire has ever known. Of course I should have guessed what was going to happen when he said he had seen the most beautiful woman in the world in the magic pool — who else could it have been? But I didn’t. You had no one else to turn to. You made the only possible decision. He didn’t bargain, did he?”

“No. Never. It —”

“I was sure he wouldn’t have. That was not his way. He would never have stooped to blackmail. He enjoyed the sport too much. But then he married you, right? And he gave his life for you! That’s different. That’s not the game he played with the others. Ylo loved you. He must have loved you. And you must have loved him? Must still love him, love his memory?”

She nodded, utterly bewildered.

Shandie sighed. “Who can blame you? Not me! I left my wife in the care of a blockhead and went off whoring across Julgistro! I need forgiveness far more than you do. If Ylo had… This is easy to say now, Eshiala, but I swear I mean it. If Ylo had survived and the two of you wanted to live together, then I would agree to it. Divorce or something… I don’t know how it could have been done, and it doesn’t matter now, because he isn’t. But I swear I would not have stood between you.”

“But why? Why?”

“Because I owed him my life. Because he was my friend and I admired him. Above all because I want you to be happy.”

Nothing was coming out the way she had expected. Shandie was not behaving like a wronged husband at all. He was certainly not behaving like Shandie, cold and inscrutable. She had been prepared for that. Even bluster and threats would have been easier to deal with than this.

“I carry Ylo’s child!”

He nodded. “So Inos told me. And Rap told her. And Rap says it’s a girl, so it — she, I mean — she won’t come between Maya and the throne. And if we —” He stopped and swallowed. “If I later have a son, then he will take precedence, so it will matter even less. Bring forth Ylo’s daughter, darling, and we shall raise her as our own.” He smiled sadly, as if hurt by her astonishment. “Did you think I would abandon a child of Ylo’s? Or of yours? Never! Nobody will know. As far as the world is concerned, you and I have been living together as man and wife all these months, so she will be another princess, Maya’s sister.”

He held out his hands. She took them. Her fingers were icy and his were hot. He stood up, raising her. She braced herself, thinking he would kiss her, but he led her across to one of the two matching, overstaffed chairs, then turned and went to sit on the other. He stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and studied her.

“I have much unhappy news,” he muttered.

“My lord?” She saw him wince. “I mean, what news?”

“Well, first, your sister is far from well. Emthoro’s in even worse condition. They have both had an Evilish, terrible time. I got a couple of sorcerers to help, and they did help them a bit, but they’re both in need of a lot of care.” He glanced around the friendly, cozy parlor. “I wonder if Queen Inos would take Ashia in? A quiet little refuge like this may be exactly what she requires.”

Ashia? In a backwater hickdom like Krasnegar? Boggle!

Shandie scratched his cheek and studied his boots. “You want to stay here for a while? You and Maya?”

“I haven’t thought about it.” She had expected to be told what to do, as always. Was this Shandie’s own idea, or Inosolan’s?

“It might be a good idea, you know! Eshiala, I had no inkling — The Impire’s in chaos! Not just Julgistro and Pithmot — all of it! The army’s wandering all over the place, there’s famine and riot and…” He shook his head. “…and chaos! Why open revolution hasn’t broken out already, I have no idea. Thank the Gods we now have sorcery to help us. At least I hope we do! Rap’s working on the wardens and this new council of his right now.” He thumped a fist on the arm of the chair and a cloud of dust rose. “Gods! I hope he can pull it off!”

“King Rap? Pull what off?”

Shandie looked up again, and she saw a worry there she had never seen before. “Don’t you understand? If votarism reappears, then all the sorcerers will vanish again. And if that happens, then everything’s going to fall apart! We need them desperately! Zinixo may not have been the prophesied disaster at all. He’s gone, but the millennium will still happen. And it’s all my fault!”

“Yours? But that’s not fair!”

He shrugged. “Who ever said anything about fair? As far as the people are concerned, I’ve been imperor for half a year and just about destroyed the Impire! They’re burning me in effigy.”

“Shandie, that’s terrible! Awful! Can’t you explain?”

“No.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Who would believe me? It would seem like the most absurd excuse ever invented. ‘That wasn’t me, it was my cousin, and he couldn’t help what he did, either’? The Senate would chain me up in the violent wing. No, it’s going to take years to put things back together.” He sighed, and she saw how tired he was.

“The Senate?” he muttered. “Oh, the Senate! And the consuls!” He cursed bitterly. She had never heard him use such language. Perhaps he was only thinking aloud, but she had never heard him do so before. He had never, ever, mentioned anything to do with politics in her hearing. “Those consuls have got to go! Oh, by the way — I postponed the coronation. The treasury can’t stand anything like that just now. Even the rich…”

He scratched his chin and looked at her quizzically. “Something Ylo said once… He told me you don’t enjoy formal balls and parties?”

“Enjoy them? I detest them! You mean you didn’t know that?” How could he possibly not know the terror she felt? Some nights she had been almost ill beforehand.

“No, I had no idea! I never guessed… You fooled me!” He grinned sheepishly. “I hate them, too, you see — rather fight a battle any day! I suppose I was always in such a cold sweat…”

“You?”

They stared at each other, and very slowly they both began to smile.

“Yes, me!” Shandie said. “All that dressing up, standing around… But we shan’t have to worry about sumptuous parties for quite a while! Even the richest families have been battered to the ground.”

Truly, as the priests said, there was some good in every evil. Without that awful burden, the palace would not hurt so badly.

“Which reminds me,” Shandie said. “Count Ipherio? You sat next to him at Ishipole’s one night… Would he make a consul, do you think?”

“You are asking me?”

He blinked. “Well, you had to listen to him for three hours. Did he make any sense?”

“No. He was drunk before we sat down and got drunker as the meal went on.”

“Trash him then,” Shandie said offhandedly.

Had he been testing her judgment or had she really just mined a man’s political career? Did the king and queen of Krasnegar sit around on the long winter nights, tossing affairs of state back and forth across the great hearth like this? And Shandie was still talking —

“You know there are packs of starving people running like wild dogs in Julgistro? Reports of feral children! Gods, what a mess! I must do something about the children, but what? If I order the army to round them up, they’ll use dogs or nets or something and throw them in cages…” He paused. “I’ll have to put someone on it right away, but who can I trust to deal with children?”

Perhaps he wasn’t really asking her, but she answered.

“A woman.”

He pouted. “Good idea, but I’m no judge of women! Name one!”

“Lady Eigaze.”

He grabbed. “Is she competent?”

“Extremely. She and Ylo ran circles around her husband and the centurion to get me away, but I think she did most of it.”

Shandie’s smile was almost a smirk. “Excellent! Wonderful! Well, that’s one thing settled. That leaves two million, nine hundred thousand et ceteras! Ylo would surely be useful now!” he added wistfully. He moved as if about to pull himself out of the chair.

“If I can help —”

He sank back. He studied the fireplace and chewed a knuckle, which was a very exuberant gesture for him. “Help? Of course you could help! I can think of a hundred things you could do. Make a list of the competent and incompetent people you know, for instance. Organize a relief fund for the homeless, nurse your sister back to health… but… if you wouldn’t mind… Umpily’s already picking up rumors of coups being plotted, you see, and at the moment sorcery’s completely out of control, which is something our predecessors never had to worry about…”

She had never heard him so hesitant. “What are you getting at?”

“If you wouldn’t mind… I honestly think you could help best — just for the next few weeks, at least — by staying right where you are, darling! I know you’re safe, then, and Maya’s safe. I can announce that you’re paying a state visit. And you’re pregnant, of course. Great excuse.”

“I won’t mind.” Marvelous! Stay in Krasengar? Peace to heal after all those months of flight! This must be Inosolan’s doing.

He smiled, looking relieved. “Good. I am very grateful! But I shall come and visit you every day. Or at least I shall come and visit Maya, because I want to get to know my daughter before I march her down the aisle to marry some chinless aristocratic miracle. If you choose not to see me, then I shall just visit with Maya.”

She stared.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Nothing. I mean, of course there’s lots of things wrong, but… Nothing.”

Shandie chuckled, looking pleased. “Not quite the old Shandie? I have changed, Eshiala! I really have! Ylo started it. He lectured me about taking life too seriously. Maybe the bar girls helped, too. I certainly learned a lot of surprising things about, well, you know.”

The bar girls were starting to irk.

“About what, my lord?”

He colored again. “All right, I’ll say it! The first woman I took to bed called me a clumsy, impatient, inconsiderate oaf!”

After a long silence, Eshiala said, “Gracious! Did she really?”

Now the imperor’s face burned as red as any schoolgirl’s. “I don’t suppose Ylo was, was he?” he said through his teeth.

“Ylo was a revelation.”

Shandie nodded grimly. “Very well. I deserved that. I learned! I learned quite quickly, I think, although I’ll never come up to Ylo’s standards. I kept thinking of you. I don’t mean… What I mean is, then the goblins caught me. For two days I was sure I was going to die very horribly. Believe me, please, but one of my greatest regrets was that I had never made love to you as you deserved! Maybe one day… And then I met Inos.”

“No!” Eshiala exclaimed.

“No,” he admitted. “I was tempted to try a time or two, though. Amazing woman, that! But Inos taught me some things, in a less intimate way. Ylo taught me how men could be friends. Inos taught me how a man and a woman could be friends.”

His dark eyes gazed solemnly at her as if that were an earth-shaking revelation. Maybe it had been, for Shandie. He had had a very strange childhood. And why was he telling her all this? Inos had warned her that he was a very clever man.

Shandie rose, gesturing to stop Eshiala when she would have risen. He walked over to the bell rope and tugged it. Then he came to her and sank down on one knee.

“Inos said to ring if I needed food. I haven’t eaten all day. You won’t mind watching me guzzle? And I have a request to make.”

“Request?” She tried to pull her wits together. They refused to come. “You have only to command. Sire.”

He shook his head impatiently. “Request. Petition. Plea. I know you are in mourning for the man you loved. I respect that. I mourn him, also, dearly.”

Those could not be tears in his eyes, could they? Shandie’s eyes?

“But, after the baby… In a year or so? When you have had time. No hurry! No hurry at all! I know it sounds callous to say this, but time does heal, Eshiala! When it does — I want your permission to pay court to my friend’s widow.”

“I don’t understand!” she cried. Nothing had happened as she had expected.

“It’s quite simple. I don’t deserve you. I never wooed and won you. The contest was never fair. Do you suppose your mother learned who I was by accident? Oh no! — I cheated! Now I want to play by the rules and win on my own merits, as a man, not as prince or imperor. You married Ylo for love and I respect that. Ylo won you! Ylo died saving you from the Covin. You need time to adjust, I know. Lots of time! But you are a young woman yet. I ask only that I may be your first suitor, when you are ready to consider suitors. That is all I ask of you. And if I cannot win your hand honestly, then I do not deserve you. May I hope for that? And until then, may we be friends?”

It was the most generous offer he could have made, and far beyond her dreams. It was too good to be sincere.

“You mean that for the first time in my life I would actually be free to make a decision for myself?”

He winced, then nodded.

She felt Ylo’s presence. She felt him at her side.

She felt as she had when she rode the horse at the hedges in Qoble, fleeing the soldiers, knowing that she was risking her life and the life of her daughter. She had survived that — she could survive this.

What would Ylo say now? Ylo would ask what was in it for him.

Her mouth was almost too dry for speech. “And what if you do not win me, my lord? Do we go back to rape? Do I get to choose between that and giving up my children? Do I also have a chance to win something?”

Shandie stood up. He went back to the big chair opposite and sat down, stretching out his legs. He smiled lazily, confidently. She noticed that his fists were clenched, though.

“Inos warned me that the kitten was growing tiger stripes. Name the stakes, ma’am.”

“Divorce.”

The darkness of his eyes burned brighter. “On what grounds?”

“Failure to give the imperor a son. There are precedents.”

“There are,” Shandie admitted grimly. His knuckles showed white now. “And the children?”

“I remain at court as their governess. They will be in my charge, completely, whether or not you remarry. Or I remarry.”

He bared his teeth. “By the Gods, you drive a hard bargain, my lady!”

“So your wooing will be all pretense? However I choose, I lose?”

“By the Gods!” he muttered again. “Anything else?”

She could hear Ylo’s laughter.

“That’s if I refuse you. I may have conditions for accepting you, you understand — a limit of one formal function a month, perhaps… And I shall require at least two years to decide.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all for now.”

He sighed. “I accept the stakes. I can refuse you nothing.”

Their eyes met. He smiled. Could he actually be pleased by her new assertiveness? “I mean it! I will swear any oath you ask. I will pay any price and risk anything to win your love — when you are ready to love again.” Suddenly the smile became a mischievous grin. “I did warn you that Ylo had given me lessons, didn’t I?”

It was so much what Ylo might have said that it brought tears to her eyes, but she laughed in spite of them.

“And me, too!” she said, and then fumbled hastily for a handkerchief.

Moments later, a footman delivered a loaded tray. Thereafter Shandie sat and ate like a starved man, and talked. Mostly he spoke of Ylo.

 

 

5

 

Meanwhile, in a corridor of the castle…

Krasnegar had not changed at all. Not a thing. World capital of dull. The same soup bubbled in the same pots, the same seagulls stood on the battlements, the same dogs erupted all over a long-lost friend. The only difference was that Kadie was not around to share it. Kadie was never going to be around again. When Gath mentioned her to their friends, they became confused and upset and changed the subject.

Friends? The imps seemed devious, curious, and garrulous to him; domestic jotnar were a wishy-washy imitation of the wild variety he had come to know. All this peace and serenity was going to take a lot of getting used to, an Evilish lot! Gath had not faced death even once in the last hour. What he needed was exercise and entertainment to stop him moping about Kadie.

This was the most promising future he could find.

“Gath!” exclaimed the burly redhead.

“Oh, hello, Brak!” Gath said airily, rising from the bench he had been waiting on. Yes, he was a handsbreadth taller than Brak! He had known, but it was good to see. Wonderful! Best thing yet!

Behind Brak stood Arkie and Koarth. They had grown, too, but Brak was in front and clearly still the leader.

“Where have you been?”

“Oh, all sorts of places,” Gath said modestly. “Helping my dad the warlock, mostly.”

“The what?”

“Warlock.” Gath flexed his arms hopefully. There was a fifty-fifty future of Brak calling him a liar now, and Gath slaughtering him. Arkie and Koarth exchanged interested glances.

But Brak peered up at the returned traveler for a long, cautious moment and apparently disliked what he saw.

“That’s great news for Krasnegar,” he muttered.

“This is Longday. I was at the Nintor Moot this morning. Very interesting.”

“This morning?”

“You heard what I said.”

This time the pause was longer. Arkie coughed. Koarth hummed and tapped a boot on the flagstones.

Brak wiped his forehead. “We’d like to hear about that, Gath,” he said faintly.

Gath sighed. Hopeless! “That’s a fantastic ear you’ve got, lad. I wonder you can hold your head straight. Did I do that, or has someone else been giving you lessons?”

“That was you.” Brak pulled a grin, although it displayed hints of desperation. “We both put up quite a show that day, didn’t we, Gath? The guys talked of it for weeks. I know I knocked you out in the end, but you did a lot more damage to me than I did to you… we could kinda call that one a draw, couldn’t we?”

Gath’s mouth felt full of tooth, because an hour or two ago Jaurg had replaced the piece Brak had broken off. Maybe Brak wasn’t too bad really, especially compared with Vork or some of the men of their age in Gark. It was sort of good to see him again. Gath returned the grin. “I suppose we could.”

Brak released a long breath of relief. Arkie and Koarth welcomed Gath back. Gath said it was good to see them all.

“Er, which throne did your, er, the king, get?” Koarth asked.

“The gold.”

“Why not north?”

“Wasn’t available. Of course, as East, he runs the Imperial Army. Keeps him busy, you know. And he’s rewriting Emine’s Protocol. With the help of some pixies. Funny people, pixies.”

Three sets of blue eyes blinked, but no one questioned.

Gath yawned. “I’m heading down to the Beached Whale for a beer or two. Wanna come along and hear about the Nintor Moot?” And there would be action there later…

“They won’t let us into the Beached Whale!” Brak said.

Puke! No, they wouldn’t! This was Krasnegar. Mom made all the rules here. Gath frowned and reached for prescience. Oh, of course! “Then let’s go and find my friend Jaurg. He’ll get us in.”

 

The game again:

And many a broken heart is here and many a broken head;

But tomorrow, By the living God, we’ll try the game again!

Masefield, Tomorrow