Part 9 (2/2)
”Varthlokkur!” Ragnarson gasped when he removed his palms from his eyes.
A mewl of fear ran through the room. Soldiers became rigid with terror. Two succ.u.mbed to the ultimate ignominy, fainting.
Ragnarson wasn't comfortable. They were old acquaintances, he and Varthlokkur, and they hadn't always been allies.
Michael Trebilc.o.c.k showed less fright and more mental presence than anyone else.
He calmly secured a crossbow, leveled it at the sorcerer.
The idea hadn't occurred to Bragi. He appraised the pale youth. Trebilc.o.c.k seemed immune to fear, unaware of its . meaning. That could be a liability, especially when dealing with wizards. One had to watch the subtleties, what the left hand was doing when the sorcerer was waving his right. To not fear him, to be overconfident, was to fall into the enemy's grasp.Varthlokkur carefully raised his hands. ”Peace,” he pleaded. ”Marshall, something is happening in Kavelin. Something wicked. I only came to see what, and stop it if I can.”
Ragnarson relaxed. Varthlokkur, usually, was straightforward. He lied by ommission, not commission. ”You're too late. It's struck already.” The rage that had been driven down by fear returned. ”They killed my wife. They murdered my children.”
”And Turran too,” Valther said from the doorway. ”Bragi, have you been downstairs yet?”
”No. It's bad enough here. I don't want to see Dill and Molly and Tamra. Just take them out quietly. It's my fault they died.”
”Not that. I meant they didn't just kill everybody. They searched every room.
Lightly, like they'd come back again if they didn't find what they wanted the first time.”
”That don't make sense. We know they weren't robbers.”
”It wasn't for show. They weren't just here to kill. They were looking for something.”
Varthlokkur's expression grew strained. He said nothing.
”There wasn't anything here. Not even much money.”
”There was,” Varthlokkur interjected. ”Or should have been. Looks like the secret was kept better than I expected.”
”Uhn? Going to start the mystery-mouthing already?” Bragi had always thought that wizards spoke in riddles so they couldn't be accused of error later.
”No. This is the story. Turran, Valther, and their brother Brock served the Monitor of Escalon during his war with s.h.i.+nsan. In the final extremity the Monitor, using Turran, smuggled a powerful token, the Tear of Mimizan, to the west. Turran sent it to Elana by trade post. She had it for almost fifteen years.
I thought you knew.”
Ragnarson sat on the edge of his bed. He was confused. ”She kept a lot of secrets.”
”Maybe one of the living can tell us something,” Varthlokkur observed, searching faces with dreadful eyes.
”I saw it once,” Preshka volunteered. ”When we were on the Auszura Littoral, when I was wounded and we were hiding. It was like a ruby teardrop, so by so, that she kept in a little teak casket.”
”Teak?” Bragi asked. ”She didn't have any teak casket, Rolf. Wait. She had one made out of ebony. Runed with silver. It just laid around for years. I never looked inside. I don't even know if it was locked. It was always around, but I never paid any attention. I thought she kept jewelry in it.”
”That's it,” Preshka said. ”Ebony is what I meant. The jewel, though.... It was spooky. Alive. Burning inside.”
”That's it,” said Varthlokkur. ”One of its most interesting properties is its ability to escape notice. And memory. It's incredibly elusive.””h.e.l.l, it ought to be around somewhere,” Ragnarson said. ”Seems like I saw it the other day. Either in that wardrobe there, or in the clothes chest. She never acted like it was anything important.”
”A good method of concealment,” Varthlokkur observed. ”I don't think it's here. I don't feel it.”
Ragnarson grumbled, ”Michael, Jarl, look for it.” He buried his head in his hands.
Too much was happening. He was being hit from every direction, with worries enough for three men.
He had a premonition. He wasn't going to get time to lie back and absorb his grief, to settle his thoughts and redefine his goals.
The search revealed nothing. Yet the a.s.sa.s.sin in the park had carried nothing.
And Ragnar had said the man hadn't gotten into the master bedroom. ”Jarl, where's Ragnar?”
”Mist took him to her place.”
”Send somebody. It's time he saw what grown-up life can be like.” He might not be alive much longer. There would be more a.s.sa.s.sins. Ragnar would have to be his sword from beyond the grave.
”Jarl,” he said when Ahring returned, ”bring some more men over here tomorrow.
Find this amulet or talisman or whatever. Valther. Do you think Mist would mind taking care of my kids for a while? I'll be d.a.m.ned busy till this blows away.” ”With Nepanthe's help she can handle it.”
Ragnarson eyed him. The strain remained. Valther must have known.... But that was spilled ale.
What would he have had Valther do? Rat on Turran?
Who else had known? Who had cooperated? Haaken? Haaken had been in the house....
No. He knew his brother. Haaken would have cut throats had he known.
He was starting to dwell on the event. He had to get involved in the mystery.
Varthlokkur beckoned him to an empty corner. ”I appeared at an emotional moment,”
the sorcerer whispered. ”But this wasn't what brought me. That hasn't yet happened.
And it might, if we're swift, be averted.”
”Eh? What else can happen? What else can they do to me?”
”Not to you. To Kavelin. These things aren't personal. Though you could suffer from this too.”
”I don't understand.”
”Your other woman.”
Ragnarson's stomach tightened. ”Fiana? Uh, the Queen?”
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