A Path to Coldness of Heart tlcotde-3

by Glen Cook

  There was no moon. Only a few tiny lights marked the location of Vorgreberg.

  The bodyguards said, “To the north. The woods.”

  “I see it. Let’s go.”

  A pinkish dot had risen. It quested briefly, then headed their way, fast.

  Back in the staging room, Mist said, “The Unborn sensed us.”

  Tang Shan suggested, “Or it sensed the portal’s use.”

  “Whatever, I won’t test the other one yet. It’s only a few miles from that one.”

  Tang Shan seemed relieved.

  Mist asked, “Is that a good thing?”

  “I said, Lord Yuan isn’t comfortable with the…”

  “You told me al three were sound.”

  “And so they are, Lady. In the sense that we trust them enough to send me through them. But the escape portal in your old house has a bitter flavor. We are less wil ing to risk you going through.”

  Should she be flattered or frustrated? “I want it usable by this time tomorrow.” Flattered, because Tang Shan disdained female leaders.

  “As you wil .”

  ...

  The door to the world creaked behind Ragnarson. He looked over his shoulder, saw Mist and her right hand, Lord Ssu-ma. But who else would it be? It was not mealtime Mist looked puzzled. “What are you doing?” It was unusual to find him reading or writing, though he could manage both without much skil .

  “Derel Prataxis once suggested that I would find it useful to make tal y sheets if I was contemplating actions that might impact a lot of lives. I didn’t listen then.”

  “And this is what you got.” Her gesture included his surroundings.

  “This is what I got.”

  “So what are you planning?”

  “Nothing. I’m working the sums for what I lost because I didn’t think before I acted and then was too stubborn to change once it was obvious that I’d done something stupid.”

  Ragnarson considered the Tervola. Lord Ssu-ma seldom said much. His opinion, though, carried considerable weight with Mist.

  She asked, “How are you managing emotional y?”

  “I’m operating under the conviction that losing Sherilee shocked me sane. That could be a delusion, though.” Lord Ssu-ma said, “You have failed to take advantage of the new liberties you have been granted.” Ragnarson was free to go to the tower top. He had done so only once. It had taken immense wil to abandon the safety of his prison, though he knew he should be chal enging the stairs regularly, building himself back up. He shrugged, reported the truth. “I don’t feel comfortable up there.” Mist asked, “Have you lost your taste for freedom?”

  “No. What are you up to?”

  Lord Ssu-ma wore his mask. This visit was not informal.

  Mist said, “What would you do if I sent you back to Kavelin?”

  “I’ve played that what-if a thousand times. Til last month I wanted to show the world what the poet meant when he said don’t inflame the wrath of kings. I was set to burn Kavelin to the ground. I was pitiful y selfish. Now I understand who did the real betraying. So I’m just pitiful.”

  “That response surprises us only in that you were able to articulate it,” Mist said.

  “Is that why you’re here? To see if you dare cut me loose?”

  “What would you do if you woke up in Kavelin tomorrow morning?”

  “Go looking for my family. Kristen and my grandkids, not Inger and Fulk. I wouldn’t make war on Inger. I’d try to get her to go home to Itaskia.”

  “She might not be able. The Greyfel s fortunes col apsed after she locked up the Duke.”

  He could not restrain himself. “Excel ent!” Greyfel s vil ains had caused him misery since he was a boy.

  Mist said, “Sending you to tame the chaos is under consideration. Steps are being taken. But nothing has been decided. My councilors wil argue that the chaos is benign.

  Why risk loosing such a stubborn enemy?” Ragnarson smiled. “Nor would I want the world to think I was beholden to you.”

  Mist actual y chuckled. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

  ...

  The door shut behind them. Shih-ka’i asked, “Was that true?” “He could pul Kavelin together. A strong central authority there would be to our advantage, commercial y.”

  “I see.”

  “We’re here. You said you want me to see something.”

  “I have captives of my own. One, as Ragnarson is for you, is an old friend and recent enemy, now entirely harmless.”

  “Ooh. Mysterious.”

  Shih-ka’i’s nerves tautened.

  “You want to show me your prizes, then?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Do it. I don’t have much free time.”

  No one would ever cal Shih-ka’i a coward. Not after his war with the Deliverer. But the pig farmer’s son was not confident. His hands trembled as he entered the apartment where Kuo Wen-chin and the sad old man were caged.

  Kuo was nowhere to be seen. The old man was a few feet from the entrance, looking vague.

  Mist halted as though met by some savage weapon. “Lord Ssu-ma. Can this be?”

  “Il ustrious?”

  “This ancient…?”

  “He is the companion of my friend, who is my prisoner.”

  “You don’t realize who he is?”

  Shih-ka’i stopped. Her intensity alarmed him. “I do not, Il ustrious. He is here because my friend insisted on bringing him. He’s feebleminded. He can manage only simple tasks.”

  “Real y?” The Empress sounded disappointed.

  Shih-ka’i studied her briefly before asking, “Who is he, then? Or, who was he?”

  “One of the eyewitnesses to my father’s demise. That night probably left him like this. I suppose nobody in the whole world knows he’s stil alive.”

  Ssu-ma Shih-ka’i had not been a witness. He said so, tartly. “I’m sorry. He’s the legend. The Old Man of the Mountain. He

  occupied Fangdred before Varthlokkur.”

  Shih-ka’i was so moved he took off his mask. This man might be as old as the Star Rider. He stood witness to thousands of years. Kuo Wen-chin stepped into view. “The Old Man? Truly?” His voice was soft but rich, vibrant with awe.

  Shih-ka’i failed to catch the Empress’s response to Kuo’s continued existence. He was enthral ed by the moment, too.

  That grinning idiot was half as old as time?

  That brain must hold incalculable knowledge. The magics of the ages, perhaps. Al inaccessible, now? Sad beyond comprehension if true. Shih-ka’i asked Kuo, “You didn’t know?”

  “I had no idea. Of myriad possibilities that particular one never occurred to me. I thought him a tool abandoned by Magden Norath.”

  Kuo bowed to the Empress. He did not speak to her.

  Lord Ssu-ma asked her, “You’re sure he is who you say?”

  “I’ve done dozens of past divinations involving that night.

  This man was there. He hasn’t changed in appearance, except to become more gaunt and frail.”

  Mist considered Shih-ka’i and Kuo, unshaken by Kuo’s survival. She asked Kuo, “You consider him your friend?”

  “Not exactly. I felt responsible for him after I found him. He’s better now than he was.”

  She considered the apartment. It resembled the one where King Bragi was confined, two floors below. She instructed the Tervola to arrange cushions around a low table. The three settled there, leaving a space for the idiot opposite the Empress.

  She considered Kuo, then looked Shih-ka’i in the eye and said, “I understand.” She told Kuo, “Don’t make me regret my trust in Lord Ssu-ma’s judgment.”

  “I am at thy mercy, Il ustrious. Blessed be, I am bereft of ambition. Not that I was ever driven. I honor those who were friends in the harsh times as wel as the sweet.” Shih-ka’i frowned. Kuo might golden-tongue himself into a tight spot. The Empress said, “I hope that we have entered into a new age. The Tervola have begun to demonstrate a m
ore traditional attitude toward the values underpinning our empire.”

  ...

  Scalza asked, “Do you understand any of that, Uncle Varth?” “I’d say that I understand without ful y comprehending.” The boy told his sister, “He’s about to unload a bucket of mystic wizard crap.”

  The prophecy was harsh but essential y accurate.

  Varthlokkur had been about to say something vague meant to protect children.

  From what? he wondered. Maybe Scalza could use an unadulterated, ful -flavored dose of grownup reality.

  “Lord Ssu-ma is your mother’s most important al y. The other Tervola is Lord Kuo Wen-chin, the man she deposed.

  Evidently, he and Lord Ssu-ma were close. Lord Ssu-ma saved his life and hid him. Lord Ssu-ma has revealed himself. Your mother has chosen to honor his decisions.” Ekaterina asked, “Where does the old man fit? How come he worries you?”

  That was a grownup question. “Because he was who he was. The Old Man.”

  “The one who was missing here when you went to find him?”

  “Yes. I thought he was dead.”

  Nepanthe arrived, bringing lunch. Ethrian accompanied her, carrying Smyrena and a pail of smal beer. The glow in front of Varthlokkur drew him.

  He became quite animated. He pointed at the Old Man and chattered.

  Varthlokkur said, “See that he doesn’t drop the baby.” Unnecessarily. Both children did so automatical y.

  Ekaterina said, “He says that’s the man who helped him get away when he was a prisoner, before he got turned into the Deliverer.”

  “You understand him?”

  “Sometimes. Not always.”

  Varthlokkur was amazed. He had not realized that children often understood one another when adults heard only baby talk and halfformed word sounds.

  He did not turn the moment into an interrogation. These kids would turn stubborn on principal. “That old man may be the key to the future. He’s in a bad place mental y but he could recover and help break the tyranny of the Star Rider.” Nepanthe had come to look. “I thought he died.”

  “We al did. We al thought wrong. Eka says Ethrian says he was the one who saved him on that island.”

  “Does the Star Rider know he’s stil alive?” The wizard chuckled. “You al need to clear out so I can work without distractions.”

  “Can it wait til after lunch?”

  It could, of course, having waited so long. But Varthlokkur rushed, making no comment on Nepanthe’s effort. He had banged headlong into one of those rare moments when he could get excited again.

  First thing, he had to recal the Unborn. The monster’s transit would take hours. So he went looking elsewhere while he waited.

  There was fading excitement at Sebil el Selib, at the extreme range of what he could see. He missed some details. Some people thought they had been visited by the King Without a Throne but Varthlokkur found no sign of Haroun. Clearly, the incident had grown outsized because of deep fears and wishful thinking.

  At Al Rhemish Megelin remained paralyzed by indecision.

  His advisers were content to let inaction prevail. Megelin had dragged the Royalist cause from one disaster to another. Enough. The chance that Haroun bin Yousif might return inspired a thousand hopes.

  A sweep round Kavelin left Varthlokkur thinking that Mist’s plan to send Ragnarson home was pointless. Agricultural prospects had everyone outside Vorgreberg warmly optimistic. Inger’s influence continued to dwindle. Kristen’s was waxing. She and the younger Bragi, as custodians of the ideological flame, were attractive right now. The doyen Ozora made arguments the artisan and mercantile classes found irresistible.

  Important men visited her by the score. Some had been regulars at Inger’s court as little as six months earlier.

  Varthlokkur was tempted to ask Mist to keep Ragnarson locked up. But that might be residual animosity.

  The wizard did not yet understand what had gotten into him, back when. His behavior had been irrational. He had done stupid things. So had Ragnarson. Had Old Meddler managed to twist their minds somehow?

  Unlikely. Powerful though the Star Rider was, nothing suggested that he could do that. This was one of those cases where ascribing to malice or conspiracy was sil y when plain old stupidity explained everything.

  The looking consumed six hours. The Unborn was approaching the Dragon’s Teeth but would be two more hours in transit. Varthlokkur ate supper with Nepanthe, then returned to his long-range espionage.

  He had time to take only a cursory survey but found peace and prosperity everywhere excepting for one family in Itaskia, whose properties were being seized and sold to satisfy debts undertaken to finance an adventure in Kavelin.

  No new Greyfel s strongman had emerged.

  The Unborn arrived. Varthlokkur brought it into his Wind Tower workroom. Nepanthe would be upset when she heard. She loathed Radeachar. She was sure it would turn on them someday. She believed Radeachar’s nature would compel it to do so.

  Varthlokkur knew the Unborn was a monster, but it was his monster. Every atom of evil in it was directed elsewhere.

  Wicked as Radeachar was, it remained an extension of the Empire Destroyer.

  He overlooked its behavior while transporting Mist. He failed to acknowledge that his wife, wards, and children were not the Empire Destroyer himself.

  He communed with Radeachar til wel after midnight, then sent it out with a message for Mist.

  He reflected on Radeachar’s reports. Something interesting might be moving under the surface in Kavelin.

  Folks had begun taking the Unborn into account.

  ...

  The Empress was not visiting the Karkha Tower when the Unborn arrived. Candidate Lein She found the courage to deal with it once he understood that its behavior was not aggressive. It delivered a smal wooden box addressed to the Empress. The identity of the courier declared the source of the box.

  Lein She sent a man to the Empress’s headquarters.

  He carried a note suggesting that the Empire Destroyer could not fol ow her movements as closely as feared.

  ...

  The lifeguards were too enthusiastic in their efforts to protect their Empress. They damaged the box, which had been handcrafted by Scalza. She was surprised that the boy’s effort moved her so.

  The message from the wizard was important. So was that from Lein She.

  Yes, it was important to keep the Old Man’s survival secret. And, yes, the Star Rider’s awareness, or lack thereof, could be tested.

  Every means must be employed to help the Old Man reclaim his memory if he was so truly in revolt that the era of the Deliverer had been sparked by an act of defiance of his.

  The Matayangan treaty was about to be finalized. There were no threats on any horizon. There was time for this and time for building something with her children.

  Chapter Seventeen:

  Year 1017 AFE:

  Ghosts

  "What a stupid thing to do,” Haroun muttered again as he inventoried his travel gear. He had to move fast. They would surround the tent before they began the search.

  His only hope was to be gone before the cordon closed.

  Why did he take that chance? Hearing her should have been enough. He eased out into the evening via a prepared emergency exit. No one

  saw him. His destination was Barking Snake’s establishment, which was abandoned if the Disciple’s criminal servants were to be believed. He would hide there.

  Why in God’s Name did she have to look up just then?

  And, for the hundredth time, what madness had brought him to Sebil el Selib?

  It was dark now. He had encountered only one man, so far, who had offered only an indifferent, surly greeting in passing.

  Where was al the excitement?

  Yasmid must not have reported him.

  Why not? Because he was her husband? Because she thought he was imaginary?

  The Disciple had reported seeing a similar ghost.

  A
chal enge. “Who is there?”

  Damn!

  They had left a watchman.

  ...

  Yasmid glared at Ibn Adim ed-Din al-Dimishqi, who was frightened but refused to let her see that a woman could scare him.

  She did see and savored it. The deaths among the elderly were God’s gift, without assistance. But let Ibn Adim fear the worst.

  “I have a task for you, son of Adim,” Yasmid said. “It is wel -

  suited to your detail-oriented nature.”

  “As ever, I am here to serve.”

  “Good. You have heard about the thievery in my father’s tent?”

  “You were most compassionate, punishing only the one criminal.”

  “Too much so. The corruption runs deeper than I thought.

  Some whom we believed to be righteous actual y skimmed the take of lesser thieves.” Let him think she meant the men of action he so despised. “Go into my father’s tent.

  Examine the records. Find out where the money came from. Find out where it went. Create an exact and detailed inventory of everything stored there.”

  “Lady? Could you be more specific?”

  Yasmid thought she had been clear. “Over the years my father received thousands of gifts and untold treasure as his portion of booty. It al ended up in that moldering atrocity of a tent. There is no reliable inventory. Therefore, there is no way to know what was stolen.”

  “I understand, Lady. That is something I can sink my teeth into. How much help wil I have? How much leeway in questioning recalcitrant witnesses?”

  “Consult me on a case by case basis. For assistance feel free to conscript any cleric not already handling an assigned task.” That would get the old men out of her hair.

  “When shal I begin?”

  “Up to you. Habibul ah has warrants prepared. Inform me of any exceptional discoveries or outstanding efforts to obstruct you.”

  The imam took his leave, accompanied by Habibul ah.

  Yasmid permitted herself a smug smile.

  Ibn Adim would do her work. He would suffer the odium of the investigated while finding out if someone had been hiding in her father’s tent.

  Even Habibul ah thought she had suffered a seizure that night.