"No. Not yet. No. I came to beg for help. Again."

"What for? You got what you wanted."

"This is something a little different. I got all the troubles, too. I can't handle this on my own."

The King settled himself opposite her. His face became more empathetic. "Go on."

"It's our problem in the east. I got a closeup look. It was worse than I expected. Lord Ssu-ma thought he was on top of things, but... Bragi, he's got his back against the wall. He's been driven back hundreds of miles to an old fortress town called Lioantung. He can't go any farther. He's going to make a stand with what's left of Northern and Eastern Armies."

Bragi looked puzzled. "So? What does that mean to me?"

"He won't just lose a battle if he loses Lioantung. He won't just lose Shinsan. The man is fighting for the world. It lives or dies with him."

"Oh, really!" Inger said. "Mist, that's just too much to swallow."

Mist ignored her. She did not like the woman. She spoke directly to the King, though she answered the Queen's predictable objection. "Bragi, Lioantung is the last obstacle between the Deliverer and the heart of the empire. The last defense of regions where people are packed together several thousand to the square mile. If Lioantung goes, there's nothing to stop the Deliverer from devouring the populations of whole provinces."

"All right. You've got me curious. Start from the beginning. I really don't know what you're talking about."

She went back and began with Lord Kuo's intuition about the eastern desert and his having sent Lord Ssu-ma Shih-ka'i to take command. She meant to edit, but found everything gushing out, without any control. She told every detail she knew, up through her recent visit to Lioantung.

"Armies of dead men?" Bragi murmured. "Really?" He seemed unable to choose between horror and amusement. "And he can take over anyone they kill, too?"

"Exactly. He can even control the living if they're not protected, though it's harder. Animals, too."

"The dead rising against the living. It's a Trolledyngjan draug tale come true... Up where I was raised the old folks liked to scare us kids with tales about the dead coming down from the mountains or out of the sea to carry us off. Draugs, we called them. The walking dead. But those were just wintertime stories." He closed his eyes and looked thoughtful for half a minute. "Mist?"

"Yes?"

"You haven't said why you came to me. You've got the toughest army in the world."

"It's all tied up. And because the Deliverer is going to come after you when he's finished with Shinsan."

"Me? Me personally, or just the west in general?"

"You. Very personally."

"Why? I've put a lot of people in the ground, but none that would want to get even so bad they'd get back up again."

"A grudge, Bragi. Definitely a grudge. This dark Deliverer, this warlord of the dead, is driven by hatred. Something twisted and molded and reshaped him till all he cares about is revenge. On Shinsan. On you. Because, Bragi, the Deliverer is Ethrian. My nephew. Your godson. Nepanthe and Mocker's boy."

She expected the news to smack him like a blow from a club, and she was not disappointed. He gulped air like a fish out of water. "But... but... " He stared, unable to accept. The Queen stared at him, her face pallid, one shaky hand held at her lips. Bragi tried to say something, apparently could not.

"It's true, Bragi. I'll swear any oath you want. Something in the east saved him from the Pracchia. He's been out there all this time. That something saved him, made him an instrument of destruction and vessel of hatred, gave him immense power, then lost control. I saw him at Lioantung, Bragi. Physically he looks like you'd expect after all this time. But inside he's not Ethrian anymore. He's more like the embodiment of a natural force gone mad."

Inger croaked something. Bragi groaned. "I believe her. Look at her. She's scared silly. Now we know why Varthlokkur was so damned cranky whenever Ethrian's name came up. He knew."

Mist admitted her fear. "You're right. I'm so frightened I can't think. I just want to run... I keep wishing I'd left it in Lord Kuo's lap. I didn't bargain for this. You know what history will do to me if I can't stop Ethrian? If there is any history?"

Bragi mused, "I really do understand Varthlokkur now."

"What?"

"He knew. He's known for a long time. He's mentioned Ethrian several times since he's been here. Hinting that he might still be alive. Acting like a man wrestling his conscience. Now I know what he meant when he said he couldn't tell Nepanthe because it would destroy her." He levered himself out of his chair. "He even threatened me when I suggested she ought to know there was a chance Ethrian was alive."

Mist looked up at him. He was pale as death. As frightened as she. He believed. Somehow, that took a huge load off her shoulders. Shared fear is softened fear, she thought, recalling one of the lessons taught young soldiers.

"Let's go talk to him," Bragi suggested.

"I will need his help too," she admitted. "And almost certainly Nepanthe's."

The King winced. "Don't expect him to cooperate. He's determined to keep it from her."

"I'll sell him. I have to."

"Be careful what you say. I've never seen him so touchy. He said he'd pull out on me if I even dropped a hint to Nepanthe."

Inger glanced up sharply, startled. A strange look entered her eyes. What the devil? Mist wondered. "Uhm," she grunted. At another time she would have incorporated that bit of intelligence into her plans. Not now, though. All she wanted now was a way out of her dilemma.

The Queen's servant brought the meal Mist had requested. She snatched the main platter and ate with her fingers as the King led her out into the castle's drafty halls. A few queries about Varthlokkur led them to the small castle library.

The wizard glanced up as they entered. He half stood, dismayed, when he saw her face. He made a sign against the evil eye.

She launched into her tale before he could speak. His dismay became despair. She could imagine the emotional storm inside him. Usually he was a man of stone.

His face hardened. "Enough, woman. The answer is no. I won't touch it. Find another way."

"But... "

"I'm not going to let Nepanthe see what he's become. She's too delicately balanced. She thinks he's dead. Leave him in his grave."

"What are you going to tell her when his dead men get to these parts?" the King demanded.

"Mist is exaggerating. His armies will fall apart."

"You are sticking your head in the sand," Mist snapped. "They've held up against the finest we could put in their way. He made mistakes in the early going. He's still a child. But he's learned. He's bottomed out. From now on he'll only get stronger. Unless the three or four people who mean most to him emotionally shatter the chains of hatred binding him."

Anger reddened the wizard's cheeks. "You speak with conviction and passion, but you don't know what you're asking. The answer has to be no."

Bragi suggested, "Then don't go yourself. Send the Unborn. Make the lie truth."

"Lie? Truth?"

"Have Radeachar kill him."

"No. Listen. You don't understand. I can't help. It's your problem, Mist. You deal with it. Bragi, I told you before, if you tell Nepanthe about this... "

"Yeah. Yeah. I know. I won't. Even though I think you're wrong. Totally, insanely wrong. I won't."

"You're behaving irrationally, Varthlokkur," Mist said.

"Try to understand. I want to protect my wife."

"You don't give her enough credit," Mist said. "She looks neurotic, but she's a lot tougher than she pretends. She's had to be."

And the King, "I don't think you're protecting her at all. I think you're protecting yourself. From your own insecurities. You're just scared of change. Change might alter your relationship... "