„Change will be slow and painful in a kingdom like Ravelin. You can push too hard. Reaction will be like a recurrent boil. You lanced ours once, by winning the civil war. Now it's rising again."

„And there's nothing I can do about it?"

„To pursue the medical analogy, use poultices to keep the swelling to a minimum and the pain short-lived."

„For instance me a poultice."

„A conciliatory message, in private, might help with the Baron. You don't want him thinking you humiliated him maliciously. Press the lifesaving point, and agree with his prejudices without saying so in so many words. These illiterates have a great awe of the magic of reading and writing. He'll be tremendously impressed because you took time to do a letter."

Ragnarson whistled silently. „I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to hang him out to dry. Sometimes the Estates make me want to cry like a baby. Yes. Write me up one of your classic little notes. I'll rewrite it in my own hand and have Dahl sneak it over."

He bumped into someone. Hard. Wine splashed against his side. He looked down.

His daughter-in-law's friend looked up at him. She did a quick, flustered, apologetic curtsey. „I'm sorry, Your Majes­ ty. That was clumsy of me." Her voice was high. It con­ tained a tiny squeak. It wasn't her normal voice. He had heard that at the place in Lieneke Lane. She was nervous. And the fright was alive in her eyes.

„My apology, Miss. It was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

He walked away wondering. Was she afraid of the man? In awe of his Crown? Or afraid of herself?

Damn you, Kristen. You've got a big mouth.

Derel was chattering again. He told himself to pay atten­ tion. When Prataxis ran down, he said, „Send out the word for Michael to get in touch. We need to talk."

7

Year 1016 AFE; Decisions

Ragnarson sat with one leg sprawled across a small, square table. His eyes were closed. He was daydreaming.

To his left sat Varthlokkur. The sorcerer's tongue-tip protruded from the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he forced a quill to produce a drawing. „The memories are clear enough," he told Prataxis, opposite him. „But I'm no artist."

The drawing betrayed that. It was of a man's face. But of whom?

„Maybe charcoals, that you could erase," Prataxis sug­ gested.

„Better would be an artist who could work from my descriptions."

The two were toying with an illustrated history of the Fall. Varthlokkur was the last living participant. The major extant record of the epoch, The Wizards of Ilkazar, con­ sisted of impassioned anti-Empire propaganda. Whenever his path crossed that of the sorcerer, conservator Prataxis teased forth memories and committed them to paper. The Fall was western history's crucial crossroad. Prataxis be­ lieved the perpetuation of old lies to be a sin.

Ilkazar's last king had slain Varthlokkur's mother. Varthlokkur had crushed the Empire in revenge.

„I can't capture the real feel of the man," the wizard grumbled. „Wish I could impress a thought directly onto the paper."

Ragnarson snorted like an old boar hog being wakened by a pig farmer. „Why not? I hear tell a good sorcerer can think pictures into one of those seeing bowls. So think your memories of those old-time wizards and kings. Let an artist draw what he sees." He sniffled, sneezed, searched for a handkerchief. There had been another rainy day game of

Captures, a rematch with the Panthers, that had been long and savage and had left him with a murderous cold. The Panthers had won, five-four, on a disputed goal. The judges themselves were still arguing.

Varthlokkur and Prataxis exchanged looks. Derel said, „Wouldn't it work?"

„Maybe," Varthlokkur grumped. He awarded the King a foul look. His was the ire of a professional being taught to suck eggs by a layman.

The door opened. Dahl Haas stepped inside. From a rigid attention, he announced, „Sir Gjerdrum Eanredson, Your Majesty." A slight scowl crossed his face. He was not pleased with his King's inelegant sprawl. „Herd him in, Dahl."

Sir Gjerdrum took the remaining chair. His handsome Wesson face looked perplexed.

Ragnarson sat up. „That's all, Dahl. Look around to see if we're getting any unusual attention."

Haas withdrew, clearly piqued because he had not been invited to stay.

„What's up?" Eanredson asked.

Ragnarson began paring his nails with a small knife. Prataxis wrinkled his nose. „Some odd stuff" has been piling up. I figured it's time we did something."

Eanredson ran a hand through his hair. The room was hot.

„It's this way. I spent a lot of time thinking. I decided you're the only ones I really trust right now. So we powwow. We decide where we're going." He wiped his knife on his trousers. „Okay. Questions."

Baffled, Gjerdrum asked, „What kind of problems? I thought we were in pretty good shape." He paid little attention to politics.

„It's a long list, Gjerdrum. I clogged it all together into three groups, then rated those by how many people they'd affect. So. First area. Mist, Aral Dantice, and their cohorts, are probably plotting to get Mist her throne back. If they make it, problem number two might disappear.

„That's Hammad al Nakir, where some strange things are going on. Mainly, Hsung's machinations. Seems he's trying to round our flank by making a puppet of the Peacock Throne.

„Third general problem. The succession. It doesn't look important right now. I'm healthy. But somebody could stick a knife in me, like they did Liakopulos. Then what? Civil war? Gjerdrum, if I croak tonight, what will the army do?"

„I don't know. That isn't something we've been worrying about. Support whoever the Thing elects, I guess."

„What if that somebody was from the Estates? Somebody from the old school. Would you put up with that? Would Credence? The Marena Dimura have to be taken into account."

„I don't know about me. Credence would take to the woods. He'd fight."

Varthlokkur said, „One of your sons would be the logical candidate, even though it's not in the law."

„But I have three sons. And a grandson. Which should it be? My grandson is the firstborn of my oldest, if you like that theory of succession. Gundar is the oldest surviving son. But Fulk's mother was Queen when he was born. Elana was just a soldier's wife. Ainjar don't count because he's the farthest away."

Prataxis observed, „They're all under age. That means a regency."

„I know. Meaning more worries. Mainly, about trust. All my worries are about trust. What about those Itaskians of Inger's? Are they a foreign fifth column? Inger could be­ come regent. How about Michael? What would he do? Then there's Abaca. And the Estates. And Dantice, Mundwiller, and that crowd. And whoever tried to kill Liakopulos, and dropped the list I found. There are people with stakes we don't recognize. I want to set up guidelines for dealing with everything. Then, even if I'm gone, there'll be a path to follow."

„We're going to be here a while," Eanredson said.

„So be it. Derel, you and I have been over this some. You've had time to think."

„The problems are interrelated. If you solve one, the others will soften."

„I know. So let's pick an area and hammer away."

„The succession, then. Hsung's doings aren't pressing. They're a sideshow. Shinsan is preoccupied elsewhere. He won't do anything but tinker. He'll have to stay free to help Kuo if the Matayangan thing goes bad. And Mist will be around a long time."

„There'll never be a better time, Derel. Shinsan is in big trouble. Once they drop the hammer on Matayanga, Kuo is out of the woods. He can cover his ass. I want to smack him while he's vulnerable."