He shook hands, exchanged greetings. There was no majestic aloofness in him. King he was, but here just another of a group of old friends.

Their impatience amused him. Of Sir Gjerdrum he asked, „How do the maneuvers look? Can the troops handle the summer exercises with the militia?"

„Of course. They're the best soldiers in the Lesser King­ doms." Eanredson could not remain still.

„Youth and its fury of haste." Sir Gjerdrum was yet in his twenties. „How goes it with the beautiful Gwendolyn?"

Eanredson growled something.

„Don't worry. She's young, too. You'll outgrow it. All right, people. Gather round. I'll only take a few minutes."

There were more henchmen than chairs. Three men ended up standing.

„Progress report from Derel." Bragi placed a ragged sheet of paper on the distressed oak tabletop. „Pass it around. He says Lord Hsung accepted our proposal. Subject to approval from his superiors."

A soft ripple swept round the table.

„Completely?" Sir Gjerdrum demanded. His scowl became one of incredulity. Mundwiller sucked at his pipe and shook his head, refusing to grant belief.

„To the letter. Without significant reservations. Without much dickering. Prataxis says he barely looked at our offer. He didn't consult his legion commanders. The decision had been made. He knew his answer before Derel got there."

„I don't like it," Eanredson grumbled. „It's too dramatic a turnaround." Mundwiller nodded and puffed. Several others nodded, too.

„That's what I'm thinking. That's why you're here. I see two possibilities. One is that there's a trap in it. The other is that something happened in Shinsan during the winter. Prataxis didn't speculate. He'll be back next week. We'll get the whole story then."

He surveyed his audience. No one wanted to comment. Odd. They were an opinionated, contentious bunch. He shrugged. „They've given us the runaround so long. De­ manding impossible tariffs and arguing over every word of any agreement, but suddenly they're wide open. Gjerdrum? You have a guess why?"

Eanredson flashed his scowl, his adopted expression of the day. „Maybe Hsung's legions are up to strength again. Maybe he wants the Gap open so he can run spies through." Ragnarson said, „Mist? You shook your head." „That's not it."

Varthlokkur gave her a venomous look that startled Ragnarson. She caught it, too. „Well?" the King asked.

„It doesn't make sense that way. They have the Power. They don't have to send spies." That was not entirely true, Ragnarson knew it, and she knew he knew. She amended the remark. „They can see whatever they want to see unless Varthlokkur or I shield it." She exchanged glances with the wizard, who now seemed satisfied. „If they wanted an agent physically present they would send him in over the smugglers' trails."

Something had passed between sorcerer and sorceress and Ragnarson was aware of that fact only, not what. Puzzled, he chose to let an explanation wait. „Maybe. But if you kill that reason what do you do for one that makes sense?" He glanced around. Dantice and Trebilcock looked away.

Ragnarson was uneasy. There were undercurrents here. Mist, Varthlokkur, Dantice, and Trebilcock were his most knowledgeable advisers in matters concerning the Dread Empire. They seemed unusually disinclined to advise. They looked like people with their fingers on a pulse both shifty and strange, unwilling to commit themselves to an opinion.

„I'm not sure." Mist's gaze flicked to Aral Dantice. Though Dantice had no official standing he was a sort of minister of commerce by virtue of his friendships with the Crown and members of the business community. „Some­ thing is happening in Shinsan. But they're hiding it."

Varthlokkur nearly smiled.

Bragi leaned forward, cupped his chin in his right hand, stared into infinity. „Why do I get the feeling that you do know but that you don't want to tell me? It doesn't cost anything to guess."

The woman stared at her knitting. The wizard stared at her. She said, „There might have been a coup. I don't feel Ko Feng anymore." Her tone became cautious. „I did have a few contacts with old-time supporters last summer. Some­ thing was in the wind, but they refused to be pinned down."

Trebilcock snorted. „Tervola, no doubt! Wizards always refuse to be pinned down. Sire, Ko Feng was stripped of titles, honors, and immortality late last autumn. They practically accused him of treason because he didn't finish us at Palmisano. He was replaced by a man named Kuo Wen-chin, who had been commander of the Third Corps of the Middle Army. Everybody who'd had anything to do with the Pracchia or Feng got transferred to safe and obscure postings with the Northern and Eastern Armies. Ko Feng vanished. Kuo Wen-chin and his bunch are all younger Tervola and Aspirators who had no part in the Great Eastern Wars."

Trebilcock steepled his hands before his pallid face, looked at Mist as if to ask „What do you think of that?", then shifted his attention to Aral Dantice. His expression was tense. He hated groups and loathed having to speak out in front of them. Stage fright was the one chink in his armor against fear.

Trebilcock was a strange one. Even his friends thought him weird and remote.

Bragi said, „Mist?"

She shrugged. „Apparently my connections aren't as good as Michael's. They want to forget me over there."

Ragnarson glanced at Trebilcock. Michael responded with a tiny shrug.

„Varthlokkur. What do you think?"

„I haven't been watching Shinsan. I've been preoccupied with matters at home."

Nepanthe stared at the tabletop and blushed. She was eight months pregnant.

„If you're convinced it's important I could send the Unborn," the wizard suggested.

„Not worth the risk. No point provoking them. Cham? You're quiet. Any thoughts?"

Mundwiller drew on his pipe, belched a blue cloud. „Can't say as how I know what's happening yonder, but your occasional smuggler's rumor crosses my path. They say there's been riots in Throyes. Hsung maybe wants to shift the yoke so he can head off a general uprising against his puppets."

The King's gaze flicked to Trebilcock again. Michael did not respond. As a gesture of good faith Ragnarson had instructed Michael to stop supporting Throyen partisans and to break with their leaders. Had Michael defied orders?

Michael had genius and energy but could not be broken to harness completely. The espionage service had become too much his fiefdom. But he was very good, very useful. And he had a knack for making friends everywhere. They kept him posted. Through Dantiee he used Kavelin's traders to gather more intelligence.

The King scanned the group through narrowed eyes. „You're a moody bunch today." No response. „All right. Be that way. If you're not going to talk to me there's nothing else till Derel gets home. Meantime, think about what's happening over there. Check your contacts. We have to hammer out a policy. Gjerdrum. If you think you really need to keep an eye on Credence Abaca go back to Karls­ bad. Just be back here when Prataxis gets in. Yes? General Liakopulos?"

The general was on permanent loan from the mercenary's guild, helping improve Kavelin's army.

„Not to the point of the meeting, Sire, but important. I've had bad news from High Crag. Sir Tury is dying."

„That is sad news. But... He was an old man during the El Murid Wars." Musingly, „I first met him the night we broke out of Simballawein. Gods. Was I only sixteen?..."

He drifted away on a memory-cloud. Sixteen. A refugee from Trolledyngja, where a war of succession had devas­ tated his family. He and his brother, with nowhere else to go, had enlisted in the Guild and almost immediately had been thrown into the boiling cauldron of the El Murid Wars. They had been dumb kids then, he and Haaken, but they had earned names for themselves. So had their friends Reskird Killdragon, Haroun, and the funny little fat man, Mocker.