„Yeah. Ain't this some shit? Another one, Toby. And me due to go on watch. Yeah. Ain't this a bitch?"

Toby knocked. Gales shifted from foot to foot, muttering. She would not be happy about this second visit. She would be less pleased when she heard what he had to say.

Ragnarson swore he was getting calluses on his behind. And he could not get that girl out of his head. There was only one cure. „I'm leaving, Derel. Show Mist that treaty we whipped up the other day."

He strolled into the hallway wondering what Inger would think of his sudden interest. It had been, what? Close to two years since he had dropped everything for a daytime visit.

The guard outside the meeting room stood at a rigid attention. He was new. „What time is it, soldier?"

„Getting close to seven, Sire."

„Thank you." Bragi strode away, fantasies of Sherilee mixing with visions of Inger. I didn't handle the girl right, he thought. Should have shown more self-restraint. Now she'll turn up everywhere... . Unless I'm imagining that I'm irresistible.

He felt a twinge of nostalgia for a time when it had not mattered whether he tumbled a willing wench, a time when he had been able to fall in love three times a week without having to consider whose lives would be affected. Those had been the days! He and Mocker and Haroun had been young. Politics had been a game for sour old farts who had lost their zest for the rest of life... .

He shied from those thoughts like a stallion spooked. He had had to kill his best friend. His second-best friend had gone into the Dread Empire and been heard from no more. He had had his differences with Haroun, but, damn, he missed the man now. If Haroun were around, there would be no trouble in Hammad al Nakir. If the father were king instead of the son, Lord Hsung would not think of stealing chunks of the desert state. Haroun had the temper of a sour-bellied hawk and not enough sense not to punch back.

He halted suddenly, flung himself into the shadow of a pillar. He was a hundred feet from Inger's door.

Someone was taking his leave. And, somehow, Ragnarson was not surprised to see who the someone was, though the man should have been on duty for an hour. „Gales, I'm damned well starting to wonder about you."

He waited fifteen minutes, no longer eager to see his wife. He went through with it as much for diplomacy's sake as for desire.

The world began to twitch and shrug like a moribund giant slowly returning to life. Two days after Ragnarson's meeting with Mist, one of Dantice's smuggler's brought word of a ferocious skirmish between Throyes and Hammad al Nakir.

Hammad al Nakir's rich coastal provinces were the one area of the kingdom still controlled by El Murid. Outside observers believed Megelin's Royalists would reclaim the littoral once the kingdom's heartland had been pacified. The Disciple was a toothless tiger. He hadn't the backing to withstand the Royalist tide.

So the world thought.

When the Throyens initiated the incident the old war cries of the Invincibles rocked the disputed plain. The Disciple's white-robed Chosen seemed to materialize out of times gone by. They fell upon the would-be invaders. The Throyen commanders panicked. They threw in troops held nearby, against creation of a causus belli with which to justify a major invasion. What could have been contained as an embarrassment diplomatically forgettable became a major and patriotically unforgivable invasion of the Father­ land. When the sun set and the dust cleared, more than a thousand Throyens had fallen. Their comrades were in headlong flight.

When Ragnarson heard, he laughed. „There'll be some red faces in Throyes," he crowed. „I bet Hsung is having kittens."

Mist was less cheerful. „They'll twist this around. They'll claim El Murid started it. They'll launch their invasion. I think we've just heard about the last hurrah of the Invinci­ bles."

Ragnarson sobered. „Maybe so. Sad to say. The Disciple can't have much left."

Prataxis said, „Don't overlook the nationalist aspect.

People on the littoral aren't enchanted with El Murid or Megelin, but they'll follow anybody fighting a Throyen encroachment. They know the cost of yielding."

Bragi observed, „Wouldn't hurt my feelings if Hsung's stooges got bogged down there."

Next day Credence Abaca was the bearer of news. The wiry little Marena Dimura came to the office where Ragnarson was arguing finances with members of the Thing.

Irked by the obdurate committeemen, Ragnarson barked, „What is it, Credence?"

Abaca was direct. „Three men tried to kill me. In the park. I thought your tame witchdoctor might want the bodies. They're the same breed as tried to kill General Liakopulos."

Ragnarson cursed softly. Twenty minutes later he was part of the crowd standing round the bodies. For the first time in his reign he had provided himself with bodyguards.

„You're right, Credence. They are the same." He sent a message to Varthlokkur saying the bodies were on their way. He expected to learn nothing, but the effort had to be made.

„You dropped all three?"

„They weren't very fast," Abaca replied.

„Three of them," Bragi muttered. „Again. That's the Pracchia style, all right. A nine divided into three threes. Means there might be another try. Tell Sir Gjerdrum not to travel without guards till I tell him different."

„As you command, Sire." Abaca trotted toward the palace. Ragnarson soon followed, and joined Varthlokkur. As expected, the wizard learned nothing from the bodies.

„I'm still thinking Magden Norath," Varthlokkur said.

„Maybe Norath had students."

„Possible. Not probable. The man's character speaks against it. He was too secretive."

„This attack suggest anything?"

„Only that your list is valid."

„Who made it? Not Norath. He never came in contact with any of my officers."

„So he was hired."

Ragnarson's face hardened. „By who?"

The wizard started to say something, changed his mind. Ultimately, he observed, „We all have enemies. The more successful we are, the more numerous they become. Like throwing a stone in the air. It goes up and up and up. It slows down all the time. Finally, it comes to rest."

„And then it comes down."

„True. Sad but true."

„Is that an oracle?"

„No. Just a bad metaphor. I suggest you guard everyone on that list. Especially Gjerdrum. I'd guess he's next."

„It's done already. How about you?"

„I can take care of myself."

„Liakopulos probably thought so too. Never mind. You don't want a bodyguard, you don't get one. I have to cancel a Captures match because of this. And make myself unpop­ ular with extra duty assignments. Did you find Michael?"

Ragnarson was worried. Trebilcock had been gone longer before, but never at a time so critical. And his name had been on that list.

„Aral found a cold trail. A friend of his saw Michael in Delhagen a few days after the attack on Liakopulos."

„Strange."

„Everything is, these days."

„How long till Nepanthe's time?"

„Two weeks. Three."

„Nervous?"

„Of course." The wizard smiled weakly.

„Don't worry about it. She didn't have any trouble with Ethrian."

The wizard's shoulders tightened. „Don't mention that name."

Ragnarson did not like his tone. „There you go getting goofy again. What the hell is it with you and Ethrian?"

Varthlokkur looked like he was counting to ten. „Nepanthe has a bee in her bonnet about him lately. I don't know why, but she's decided he's still alive. She thinks we should be trying to find him."

„And you don't? Is he alive?"

„I don't know."

It might not make a lot of sense to anyone else, but Ethrian being alive might explain the wizard's bizarre behavior of late. Might there be some connection with the Deliverer, about whom he had refused to talk? „A couple of weeks ago you told me... ."