An Ill Fate Marshalling

4

Year 1016 AFE; Family Life

It was a weird sunset. There were pastel greens in the clouds scattering the western horizon. Green was rare. Ragnarson wondered why.

The old man had to shout twice to get his attention. „I'm sorry. What did you say?"

„Was you out to Captures today?"

Ragnarson laughed. „Was I? Was I ever." Every muscle in his body ached. They would need a hoist to get him off his horse.

„What was the score? Fellow told me the Guards won. Why would a guy lie that way? I want to know on account of maybe I beat the spread."

„Who'd you bet?"

„Panthers by three. That was the best I could get."

„Hope you didn't bet the daughter's dowry, Pops. You're hurting."

Dismay—yea, even despair—blackened the old man's face. Ragnarson could not stifle a bark of laughter.

He felt good, not being recognized. For these few minutes he could be just another man. The old-timer didn't expect anything of him.

„You wouldn't lie just to see an old man squirm, now would you?"

„I don't want to ruin your evening. But you did ask. It was five to three. Guards."

„That's impossible."

„You know how it goes. The Panthers got too cocky."

„The King played, didn't he? I should have known. King's luck. He could fall in a cesspool and come up wearing gold chains."

Ragnarson faked a coughing spasm to keep a whooping laugh from busting loose. He? Lucky? With everything that had happened to him?

He rode toward his home in Lieneke Lane, thinking he should have brought presents. Some little guilt offering for his kids.

He was passing the park when the man in white stepped into his path. He yanked his sword from its scabbard, looked round for the other two. The Harish always worked in threes.

The man held a lantern to his own features. „Peace, Sire." He had a gentle, priestlike voice. „No dagger has been consecrated with your name." The Harish were assassin devotees of the fanatic religion El Murid had brought forth from the barren womb of the deserts of Hammad al Nakir. In its youth the sect had spread across east and west with the wild violence of a summer storm. It had declined as the charisma of its Disciple faded. Today it had few adherents outside Hammad al Nakir, and even there its followers were dwindling.

„Habibullah? Is that you?"

„It is, Sire. I was sent by the Lady Yasmid."

Ragnarson had not seen the man since before the wars. In Fiana's time he had been Hammad al Nakir's ambassador to Kavelin. In those days El Murid had ruled the desert kingdom. Haroun had been alive. His son Megelin had not yet donned the crown and led Royalist armies victorious into Al Rhemish. Haroun's wife, El Murid's daughter Yasmid, had come slipping into Vorgreberg, hoping he would help her end the bitter strife between her men. He had sent her to her father with this same Habibullah, then had heard nothing more.

Ragnarson scanned the gloaming again. El Murid's fanat­ ics had tried to kill him before. He saw no sign of treachery. He swung down. His pains seemed to have deserted him. „Into the park, then." He did not sheath his blade.

Habibullah settled cross-legged in the shadow of a bush, his hands palms up on his knees. He waited patiently while Bragi rambled around prodding bushes. He seemed to accept this as perfectly rational behavior.

Satisfied of his safety, Bragi sat down facing the man in white. „You might have to help me up if I get stiff."

Habibullah smiled. „It was a vigorous contest?"

„That's putting it mildly. What's on your mind?" He knew Habibullah wouldn't mind a blunt approach. Too damned many ambassadors danced around things and euphemized. One couldn't be sure what the hell they wanted. Habibullah was more direct.

He reckoned the man had something worth saying. A man didn't sneak through so much unfriendly territory, and make a contact carefully calculated to go unnoticed, just to be sociable.

„The Lady Yasmid sends greetings."

Bragi nodded. He had known El Murid's daughter, though not well, since her childhood.

„Then, she's bid me explain the present situation in Hammad al Nakir. She wants you to understand how and why things have changed since Megelin's victory." Habibullah went way back, to the day when Yasmid had come to Bragi begging for help. He picked the tale up there. It was a long one. He bore down on the fact that the followers of the Disciple, defeated, now holding on only in the holy places of Sebil el Selib and along Hammad al Nakir's rich eastern seacoast, had begun to despair. He said, „The Disciple himself has given up. He just sits and dreams opium dreams about days gone by. He doesn't know where or when he is anymore. He talks to people who have been dead for twenty years. Especially to the Scourge of God."

„Which leads up to you telling me what?"

„To my stating the obvious. The Movement is no longer a danger to Kavelin or any other western kingdom." In a confidential voice, „It's barely a danger to the heretic on the Peacock Throne, and that only because the Harish still consider him their prime target."

„Maybe. But I don't think the Disciple has changed his ideas. He'd be a danger if he could."

„The point is, he can't. He won't be able, ever again. On the other hand, the heretic might well be."

Bragi had a notion where the man was going, based on Michael's report. Intuition told him he'd best give Habibullah a full hearing. „Go on. I'm interested."

„The threat to the world today—your world and mine —centers in the east. In Throyes, specifically. In Lord

Hsung. He's a determined and treacherous man. He sent ambassadors to Sebil el Selib. They offered to help us recapture Al Rhemish. The Lady Yasmid exerted her influ­ ence and had them driven out. There were those who didn't agree with her, but her doctrinal arguments were irrefuta­ ble. The lamb does not lie with the lion. The Chosen cannot walk hand in hand with the minions of the Evil One."

„Yeah. I didn't know she had that much pull."

„She has a lot more. ... If she cares to use it. She's still the Disciple's designated heir."

„I meant push, I think. Drive. Off-your-ass."

„I see. Yes. She has been lacking in initiative."

Ragnarson pricked up his ears. Something in Habibullah's tone suggested that times had changed.

Habibullah became confidential again. „Our agents in Al Rhemish say Hsung sent ambassadors to Megelin at the same time he sent them to us. The Tervola doesn't care who he enlists. And indications are, he got a more sympathetic hearing there. Megelin now has a wizard stashed in the Most Holy Mrazkim Shrines. A master of the Power, not some feeble native shaghun."

„Uhm." Bragi saw one of Habibullah's unstated argu­ ments. If Shinsan had people in Megelin's court, then Ravelin and El Murid had a sudden congruence of interest. Imagine that. After all those years of enmity. „You're suggesting we ought to get together on something?"

„Exactly. If Megelin has an arrangement with Hsung, then, obviously, he's no longer your friend. He's sold you to the Dread Empire."

„How do I make a deal with an old enemy? Can you see me trying to sell it to my people? On the evidence available? The older ones are still as scared of El Murid as they are of Shinsan."

„As I said, the Disciple isn't much interested these days. He is, in mathematical terms, not part of the equation."

„Ah? Meaning?" Ragnarson had a feeling they were getting to the heart of it.

„The Lady Yasmid... . Shall we say she's considering finding some initiative?"

Ragnarson's laugh was hard, barking, and bitter. „She's going to overthrow him?"

„Not overthrow. Not exactly. More like take charge in his name. If there's any point." „Any point?"

„What point in trying if you're caught between royalists and Shinsan and haven't a friend to help? A grain of wheat between millstones would have a better chance. It would be better for the Faithful, in the long run, if they weren't led into certain destruction."

A very muted appeal, Bragi thought. She would let the collapse continue unless he offered some hope. And if the collapse did happen, Hsung and his Western Army would have access to the southern passes through the mountains. Hsung could march west through the desert and hit the western kingdoms from the south instead of east. He barkened to his intuition again. „Tell her to go ahead. I can't promise an actual alliance, understand."

„I understand. No iron commitments. Just a hope. And only the three of us to know we're in contact, please. I'll inform the Lady and return as soon as I can."

Ragnarson nodded. „Habibullah, you're better than you were when you were ambassador. Much more efficient."

Much had been said here, and a lot in words never spoken.

„The Lady Yasmid has led me into a more mature path."

„Good for her." Bragi groaned as he struggled to his feet.

His muscles had set like mortar. „I won't be able to move tomorrow." He backed away, not turning till he was outside throwing range. A sensible man took no chances. The

Harish were masters of the knife.

He continued his interrupted journey, puzzling the way things were turning around. So much was becoming in­ verted to the traditional.

This making a deal with Yasmid... . Something told him it was right. He had a feeling the day would come when he would need friends as desperately as she did now. And the people of Hammad al Nakir, of whatever religious or political persuasion, could be as hardy in friendship as they were steadfast in enmity. Hadn't Megelin's father, Haroun, twice surrendered his chance at the Peacock Throne so that he could help friends? Wasn't that very friendship the reason a boy now sat on the Peacock Throne, going off in his own strange direction?

What about Michael? His testimony supported Habibullah's, and vice versa. So unless there was a plot... . „Damn!" He was getting too paranoid.

He should get the two men together. But Habibullah wanted the thing kept below the horizon for the time being. Probably more for Hsung's benefit than anything. I can't go working against Haroun's son, can I? But if I don't, I'm abandoning his wife, and she's more dear to me than the boy... .

„Is a conundrum, as Mocker used to say," he muttered. Mother and son were at war, and he had an obligation of friendship to each.

„Guess in a choice like this I have to go with self-interest." Meaning his intuition had been right all along. He would have to stick with Yasmid.

Bragi pulled the bell cord. Behind the door, someone grumbled about the time. An old man opened up, ready dagger in hand. No one trusted the night.

„Hello, Will."

„Sire! We weren't expecting you."

„That's all right. I don't know what I'm going to do half the time."

„Yeow!" a girlish voice shrieked from the rear of the house. „Daddy's here! I hear Daddy!"

He got three steps inside before a whirlwind of pigtails and flailing arms hit him. His son Gundar also ran in, but became a stately, manly twelve the moment he was on stage. „Hello, Father."

„Hello, Gundar." His daughter-in-law appeared. „Hi, Kristen. They giving you too much to handle?" Could she be just nineteen? She looked so damned old and wise.

„Father." A smile seized the girl's taut lips. Now she looked her age. „They haven't been any trouble."

„Where's my boy? Where's Bragi?"

„Into mischief, probably. Come on in. Let's get you comfortable. Find you something to eat. What have you been doing? Wallowing with the hogs? You're filthy."

„Playing Captures, huh Dad?" Gundar asked.

„I was. And we beat their pants off, five to three." He was getting high on the victory. Maybe he wasn't quite ready for the midden heap.

„The Panthers? Dad!" The boy's voice rose to a wail. „What did I do?"

„You were supposed to lose," Kristen said. „He bet against you."

„What kind of family loyalty is that?"

„But Dad... ."

„Never mind. I've been hearing it all day." In a half-serious tone, he added, „I hope Ravelin's friends don't start thinking that way. We'd be in big trouble."

„How's the baby?" Kristen asked. Her voice trembled.

Bragi rubbed his forehead, hiding a frown with his hand. Didn't take her long to get to it, he thought. „Healthy as a wolf cub. Eats and howls like one, too."

„That's good. Sometimes when there's a hard delivery. ..."

He was tempted to take Inger, Kristen, their brats, and Gundar, shake them up in a sack, then set them all down together and explain that only he had been made King. There had been nothing in the deal for his offspring. And if he had the opportunity to choose his successor, he probably would not pick someone of his own blood. He would pick someone whose skill and judgment he had seen at work, someone whose qualities he knew fit those Kavelin needed in a king.

There was a definite potential for trouble here, and someday he would have to get off his duff and straighten it out.

But there was time. Plenty of time. He had a lot of good years left, didn't he?

He realized he had fallen into a habit of vacillating, of letting things work themselves out. Was that another sign of aging? Developing a more passive, accepting nature? A greater store of patience?

Fifteen years ago he would not have waited to see what was developing. He would have jumped in, flailed around, and would have made things happen. And the results might not have been positive.

Then, too, it might be the „luck" the old man had mentioned. That knack for intuiting the right course. It might be telling him to lay back in the weeds and wait this time. There was too much potential for fireworks in the apparently unrelated elements he had identified so far.

Got to be patient, he thought. Got to let it take shape. The things I think I see might all be false clues. There might be more Habibullahs waiting in the wings.

„You're very somber tonight," Kristen said.

„Uh? Oh. It was a tough game. I ran enough for two fifteen year olds."

„If you're that tired, maybe you'd better stay here to­ night."

He scanned what he could see of the house. Kristen had made it bright and cheerful. She had remarkable taste for a Wesson soldier's daughter, he thought. Elegant, yet simple. „I couldn't. There's still too many ghosts for me."

Kristen nodded. His first wife and several of his children had been murdered here. He could not make peace with the house. He had slept there only a few times since.

„No," he said again. „I want to visit Mist tonight anyway. Maybe I'll stay there. And watch that smile, little lady. There ain't nothing between me and her, and there never will be. She's too damned spooky for me."

„I didn't really think so. If she's got a thing going, it's with Aral Dantice."

„Aral?"

„Sure. He's out here all the time whenever she's in town. Saw him this morning."

He frowned, became thoughtful.

„For heaven's sake, sit down," Kristen said. „I'll have them get something cooking. You kids better head for bed. It's past time. Tell Bragi to come say hello to his grandfa­ ther."

There were cries of protest. Ragnarson wanted to keep them there himself, but kept his mouth shut. He had abdicated his child-rearing responsibilities to Kristen. He wasn't going to tamper with her routine or discipline.

He had made that mistake only once. She had told him what she thought. She had a spirited tongue when she was right.

And, obviously, she wanted to talk without little ears being there to hear.

Curious, he reflected. I hardly ever really talk with anybody anymore. All my real friends, male friends, are dead. Or have drifted away somewhat, like Michael, so there's a chasm between us. It isn't just Inger I can't open to. It's everybody.

Not long ago, coming up Lieneke Lane, he had been wondering if what he needed was a lover. Not just some woman to tumble. One he could fall for head over idiotic heels like he had Fiana. Now he realized he wasn't just missing a lover. He lacked friends, too. To-the-death, put-up-with-anything friends like those he had brought to Kavelin for the civil war. His circle now consisted of people bound by common interest. The common interest seemed to be diverging with the decline of direct survival pressure. Tomorrow's defeat might be hiding behind yesterday's victory.

Derel Prataxis was the closest friend he had these days. And that might be only because he was Derel's abiding interest. The Daimiellian scholar was writing the definitive modern history of Kavelin, from the inside.

Bragi wondered if he could manufacture a crisis to force a closing of ranks... .

Michael. Was that his angle? Had he seen the conse­ quences of a too secure peace? Was he stirring the pot in response? What had he said about a problem in the making?

Sounded like a good possibility. It reflected Michael's kind of thinking.

„Has something happened?" Kristen asked. „You're not just tired."

„It's not anything I can put a name on. Just a feeling that something is wrong. A resonance. People I've been talking to, they feel it too. It feeds on itself." He glanced around. The children had made their retreat. Little Bragi apparently wasn't interested in his grandfather tonight. Nor was Ragnarson's youngest boy, Ainjar, interested in his father. He had not made an appearance either. „Forget it. Let's talk about what's bothering you."

She took him from the blind side. He was mustering the troops for a squabble about the succession, and she said, „I'm not getting any younger. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being Ragnar's widow."

His first reaction was a startled „Hunh?" He stared. The muscles in her neck were taut. Tension stiffened her body. She was pale. She was milking the fingers of her left hand with her right.

„I'm nineteen years old."

„Over the hill for sure."

„Come on. I'm serious."

„I know. I'm sorry. You have a different perspective on nineteen when you're my age. Go on."

„I'm nineteen. Ragnar has been gone a long time. I don't want to spend my whole life being his memorial."

„I see." This was a problem he had not foreseen. Differ­ ent backgrounds, he supposed. Kaveliners had customs he would never understand. „Why are you telling me? It's your life. Go ahead and live it."

She relaxed a little. „I thought you would. ... I thought you might. .. ."

„You found somebody you're interested in?"

„No. Not that. I wouldn't do that. It's just. ... I feel locked up. I don't mind keeping this place, and taking care of the kids—in fact, I love it—but that isn't all there is, is there? All of my friends are... ."

„I said it's your life. Do what you want. You're a sensible girl. You won't make you or me any problems we can't handle."

The tension left her completely. So completely she looked limp. Am I that intimidating? he wondered.

„I was so afraid you'd think I'm some kind of traitor."

He snorted. „Crap. The gods didn't make pretty girls to waste on dead men. If I wasn't old enough to be your father, and if you hadn't been married to Ragnar, I'd be out here chasing you myself." He stopped there. That wasn't quite the way he should say it. Too much subject to misinterpreta­ tion.

She knew his style well enough to accept it in the spirit in which it was meant. „Thanks. It's good to hear I'm not an old hag yet."

„You've got two or three good years left. Speaking of your friends, what ever happened to that tiny little one? The blonde. Sherilee. Something like that."

Kristen smiled saucily. „Interested?"

„No. I. ... Uh. ... I haven't seen her around. I just wondered."

„I've seen the way you look at her. The game you're thinking about doesn't have anything to do with running through the woods."

He grinned weakly, unable to articulate a protest. The woman in question had stricken him speechless the few times he had encountered her. He did not know why. That is, he understood his glandular response, but not why the particular female should have initiated it.

„I'm not shopping, Kristen. I just wondered. She's your age, after all."

„Be twenty-two in a couple months. Don't let Inger see you looking at her like that. She'll cut your throat. Yes. She's still around. I see her maybe once a week. You just haven't been around much. She's a little scared of you, you know. You're so quiet and broody, you make her nervous."

„I'm that way because she makes me nervous," he admit­ ted. „I'm supposed to be old enough that women don't affect me that way. I shouldn't even notice them when they're that young."

„I'm not going to say anything. Just keep talking yourself in deeper."

„Don't laugh, either. It's not funny to me. You said Aral comes to see Mist when she's in town. Tell me about it."

„You're changing the subject."

„You noticed. You're too damned smart for a female. Can't put anything past you."

„All right. I'll back off. All I can tell you is that he goes to Mist's house every day when she comes to the city. I saw him go by this morning. He was pretending he was inter­ ested in the park. I recognized him anyway."

„He doesn't seem to be sneaking, though, eh?"

„I don't know."

„He wouldn't just ride out Lieneke Lane if he was, would he?"

„I don't know him well enough to guess."

A servant signalled Kristen. She led Bragi to the kitchen, where he devoured most of a chicken. „Been eating so much chicken lately, I'm going to turn into one. Guess I'll have to see Mist for sure. Find out what the hell is going on. Going to be embarrassing if they're just playing a little push-me pull-you."

„She's ten times as old as he is!"

„She doesn't look it. And Aral's still that age where he does most of his thinking below his belt."

Kristen gave him an arch look. „Do men ever outgrow that?"

„Some. Some of us take longer than others. Old Derel probably outgrew it when he was twelve. Which reminds me. He should be back by Victory Day. We're going to have a wingding Victory Day night. I'll send a carriage for you. ... It don't seem possible that it was that long ago. You must have been a snotty-nosed kid in pigtails."

„I remember. Mother and I went out to meet you coming back from Baxendala. To meet Dad, really. You were all so dirty and ragged, and... glowing, I guess. I remember my father broke ranks to grab me and squeeze me. I thought he was going to break my ribs. It's still hard to believe. We beat the best they had."

„Not without luck. Should I send that carriage?"

„If I can find something to wear."

„Good. I'd better go if I want to catch Mist before she goes to bed."

But before he left he toured the bedrooms, to look at his sleeping children and grandson. He ventured into the Vorgreberg night feeling better about his role as King. It was for such as they he was struggling. Yesterday's little ones were today's Kristens and Sherilees. Today's children needed their chances too.

Mist met him in her library after keeping him waiting twenty minutes. She didn't apologize. „You're out late."

He scanned her quickly. She was as cool as ice. He wondered why her beauty didn't demolish him the way it did so many men. He was conscious of it, but never overwhelmed or intimidated. „I was at the house. I wanted to see you. Thought I'd save a trip and do it now."

„You look exhausted."

„I had a rough day. Excuse my manners. They may not be what they should."

„What's on your mind?"

„I'm curious about what you and Aral are up to."

„Up to?"

„I see some things coming together. Thought I'd get an explanation before I jump to conclusions."

„So?"

„There's an exiled princess minus the tempering effect of a husband who fell at Palmisano. A young merchant of wealth and influence. And on the staff of Lord Hsung's Western Army, Tervola who remain supporters of the exiled princess." He watched closely, saw no reaction. She was good.

„It's curious that these ingredients should come together just when it looks like there might be war on Shinsan's Matayangan border." Again, he awaited her reaction. This time she seemed a little twitchy.

She seemed to go off somewhere inside herself. He spent several minutes trying to decipher the titles on the spines of her books.

Finally, „You're right. I've been in touch with people inside Shinsan. A traditionalist faction displeased with Lord Kuo. They think I can restore stability and traditional values. It's just talk. Nothing will come of it."

„Why not?"

„These groups don't have enough power or influence."

Bragi steepled his fingers under his nose. „What's Aral's part?"

„The trading climate would improve if a friend ruled the east. He's been trying to gather financial backing."

Bragi stared at the books. Her explanation sounded plausible. As far as it went. Was she yielding two-thirds of the truth to mask the remainder?

„Sounds like a good idea to me. It would benefit Kavelin, surely, if the historical inertia of Shinsan could be shifted. Otherwise it doesn't matter who's in power."

Again she made him sit through an extended silence. He did not let it distract him.

„What are you saying?"

„That I wouldn't be averse to a scheme. But I want an understanding up front. You're Chatelaine of Maisak. I don't want to worry about my hold on the Savernake Gap."

„I see. You want guarantees. What did you have in mind?"

Bragi smiled. Her attitude betrayed her thinking. „Not now. Not here. We need time to think. And I want wit­ nesses. Varthlokkur and the Unborn."

„You don't trust anyone, do you?"

„Not now. Not anymore. Why should I? Your scheme is just one of my problems. I'm going to walk light and careful till it's all under control."

She laughed. He responded with a smile. She said, „It's too bad you were born a westerner. You would have made a great Tervola."

„Possibly. My mother was a witch."

She seemed startled. She started to say something, but was interrupted by a servant who announced, „My Lady, there's a gentleman here looking for His Majesty."

Bragi looked at Mist and shrugged. „Send him in," she said.

Dahl Haas bustled through the doorway. He still looked fresh. „Sire, I've been looking all over."

„What is it?" Bragi had a bad feeling. Haas looked grim.

„An emergency, Sire. Please?" He gave Mist a meaningful glance.

What is this? Bragi wondered. „We'll talk later," he told Mist, and followed a frantic Dahl out of the house. „Come on. Spill it, Dahl."

„It's General Liakopulos. Somebody tried to kill him."

„Tried? He's all right?" Kavelin's army was the founda­ tion of Ragnarson's power. Liakopulos was one of his most important officers.

„He's in bad shape, Sire. I left him with Doctor Wachtel. Doc said he didn't know if he'd make it. That was three hours ago."

„Let's ride, then. Who did it? A brawl?" The General frequented rough dives. He had been warned, but warnings did no good.

„No, Sire. Assassins." Haas kicked his mount into a trot beside his King. „He was riding outside the palace. They ambushed him in the park. He got one of them, but they cut him up pretty bad. Gales found him and brought him in."

„Who was the dead man?" Wind streamed past Bragi's ear. It bore a smell of rain.

„Nobody recognized him. There wasn't anything on him to identify him."

„Harish?"

„No. He was fair. Possibly from the north."

„Find Trebilcock when we get back."

„He was with the General when I left, Sire." Haas kicked his mount again. The animal had been pushed hard for a long time. Bragi recognized its fatigue and eased the pace. Dahl added, „He seemed to take it personal. Like it was an attack on him."

„Good." Bragi eased the pace even more. It had been a long day for his animal, too.

And this long day was not over yet. Not for him.