Prataxis shrugged. „You're King. But really, an estab­ lished line of succession, including a designated regent, would do more good."

„Gjerdrum?"

„I'd be more comfortable if I knew who'd take over. Hammad al Nakir? That's Michael's area."

„What about Mist?" Ragnarson's mind was set. He was disappointed in his people. They wouldn't see the impor­ tance of weakening Shinsan. Not even Derel, who so recent­ ly had advised him to play Hsung's game.

„How would she change anything?" Gjerdrum asked. „Sorry. The Chatelaine is your friend. But there's no reason to believe that she could or would alter Shinsan's historical imperatives."

„Historical imperatives? College boy. Varthlokkur?"

„I don't like Shinsan." The wizard examined his finger­ tips. „Lord Kuo is an enigma. His supporters are unknowns too. Mist we know."

Prataxis started to protest.

Varthlokkur snapped, „Wait, will you? I think I'm speak­ ing from a more knowledgeable viewpoint."

Prataxis subsided. Ragnarson sat up straighter.

„When I couldn't find the man responsible for the attack on the General, I started making daily divinations. I've been spending so much time at that that my wife claims I'm neglecting her. I'm trying to do what I can while I can. Her time is close. I won't be able to help much longer."

Prataxis said, „Tell us why you're not worried about the succession."

„Did I say I wasn't? I don't think so."

„We don't expect you to neglect Nepanthe," Bragi inter­ jected. „You were talking about divinations."

Varthlokkur unleashed one of his classic intimidating frowns. Any man in the street would have fainted. Ragnarson just grinned, though his stomach did flutter.

„Divinations. The damned things are as unreliable as ever. I put in a hundred hours on them this week... . Well, twenty-five or thirty. I didn't find out much, but I can tell you the King will still be around five years from now. It was only a glimpse, but a solid one."

Derel's eyebrows rose. „You're sure?"

„Didn't I just say so?"

„Easy," Ragnarson said. „Damn, you're getting touchy. So I'll live another five years. That's good to know."

„That don't mean they'll be happy years. Just that you'll survive them."

„Will they be bad, then?"

„I don't know. The divination just showed you with a sword in your hand on a summer day five years from now. There were dead men around you. Your sword was bloody. You were wearing that wolf grin you get during a fight. Your helmet was banged up. A lot of grey hair hung out from under it."

„And I know who's going to give it to me. That satisfy your reservations, Derel?"

Prataxis tugged at his chin. „I want an artist to paint that scene. If we'll be at war... ."

Ragnarson muttered, „Gods, deliver me from... ."

„There might be details that would help us prepare. ..."

„Derel. Answer me yes or no. Will you go along with me on Mist, knowing I'll be around for a while?"

Prataxis sputtered. He hemmed and hawed. He mum­ bled, „Yes, Sire."

„All right. That didn't hurt, did it? No. I'm going to ask Gjerdrum now. Wait your turn. Gjerdrum?"

„I'm minded that divinations are treacherous, sire. Dur­ ing the war everybody was looking for that Spear of Odessa Khomer that kept showing up in the divinations. And the damned thing turned out to be a guidon some kid from Iwa Skolovda used because he didn't have anything else."

Ragnarson's fist hammered the table. Varthlokkur's ink­ well flipped. Ink poured across oak. King and wizard became entangled as they tried to right the well. The spill spread. Ragnarson growled, „Goddamnit, why can't any­ body give me a straight answer? I know all the goddamn arguments. It's worrying about that crap that keeps us from getting anything done. We've got to say the hell with it, decide to do something, then do it. Gjerdrum, I want a yes or no. Understand? Do we work on Shinsan? Can I count on you and the army?"

Gjerdrum sighed. „All right. But... ."

„But me no buts. Not now. That's what I wanted to know. I'm going to find Dahl. Play with the ifs, ands, and buts while I'm gone. We'll hash out a program when I get back." He rose. Scowling, he said, „I'll send for ink and paper." Prataxis had salvaged his notes, but his blank paper had been ruined. „I want this nailed down quick."

Bragi stepped into the hallway. „Dahl? Where the hell are you? What happened to Haas?" he asked the guard.

„He was here a minute ago, Sire. He couldn't have gone far. There he is."

„Sire? You wanted me?"

„Yes." He told Haas what he wanted done. While he spoke, Josiah Gales left a doorway down the hall and strode purposefully away.

Bragi turned to the guard. „What's Gales doing up here? Does he have the watch?"

„I don't know, Sire. No. Sergeant Wortel has it. Gales has the six to midnight this week."

„Curious. Dahl, get going." He sent the guard for ink and paper, then checked the room Gales had departed. He found nothing unusual.

Kristen's legs ached from crouching behind the hedge. How long would this take? Sherilee had been over there for an hour. It wasn't fun anymore.

The blonde's face popped through the hedge surrounding Mist's estate. She looked up and down Lieneke Lane, burst into motion. She joined Kristen an instant later. „They had a Tervola in there!" she gasped. „Kris, he had a voice like a devil. Kind of like a nasty wind blowing through old dry leaves. Like he was dead, or something."

„What did they talk about?"

„I don't know. It didn't make sense. About how the King was going to help them... . Ouch!"

Kristen yanked her down hard. „Somebody is coming out."

A coach came around the house and waited for an older, well-dressed, heavy man. He puffed a pipe and surveyed his surroundings lazily before entering the vehicle.

„Who was that?" Sherilee asked.

„Cham Mundwiller."

„The one from Sedlmayr? That helped the King during the civil war?"

„Yes."

„How could he change like that?"

Kristen laughed softly. „People do. I used to know a girl who was so in love with a guy named Hanso. Then she developed a crush on a married man."

„Kristen! I did not."

„Whatever you say, love. Let's run to the house. Gundar can write down what you remember. One of the servants will take it to the palace."

Ten steps away, Sherilee suggested, „I could take the letter. I have to go to the city anyway."

Kristen put an arm around her friend. „Somehow, I thought you did."

Gales rambled through the palace halls, mumbling to himself. „Gales. Going to be rich someday. Yeah. Rich. Going to get out of this fool's business. Yeah, rich. Gales, you ain't nothing but a fool." His gaze seemed fixed on the floor three steps ahead, but his eyes moved in quick little glances. He rounded a turn and tramped toward the soldier outside the door to the Queen's apartments.

„Got a letter for Her Majesty, Toby," he said. „Just came in from the north." He produced a large leather wallet closed with straps and buckles and heavy wax seals.

„Right. Hang on a minute, Sarge." Toby tapped on the door. A woman answered immediately. They exchanged a few words. The soldier pulled the door shut. He wore a slightly bewildered expression.

„What's up?" Gales asked.

„I don't know. She wants to tell the Queen before she takes it."

Gales made a gesture of defeat. „Women. You ever seen anything like a woman, Toby? A man's got to be a pure fool to put up with them. Yeah. A pure fool. And you know what, Toby? I like it. Yeah. Ain't that a bitch? A man wants to be a fool. Yeah."

Toby grinned. „There ain't no better way to go, Sarge, that's what I always say."

Gales grinned back. „You gotta do like me, Toby. Yeah. Be a fool, be a fool all the way. Yeah. I got six women right now. That's no lie. Six women."