Part 10 (1/2)
”The child is what caught my attention.”
”But it's not due....”
”It's coming. In two or three days. The divinations, though obscure, are clear on one point. This child, touched by the old evil in Fiana's womb, can shake the roots of the earth-if it lives. It may not. There're forces at work....”
”Forces. I'd rid the world of your kind if I could....””That would leave you a dull world, sir. But the matter at hand is your Queen.
And child.”
”G.o.ds, I'm tired. Tired of everything. Ten years ago, when we had the land grant in Itaskia, I griped about life getting dull. I'd give anything to be back there now.
My wife would be alive. So would my kids....”
”You're wrong. I know.”
Ragnarson met his gaze. And yes, Varthlokkur knew. He had lived with the same despair for an age.
”Karak Strabger.... Baxendala. That's almost fifty miles. Can we make it?”
”I don't know. Fast horses....”
”We'll rob the post riders.” One of Ragnarson's innovations, which Derel had proposed, was a fast postal system which permitted rapid warning in case of trouble. Its way stations were the major inns of the countryside. Each was given a subsidy to maintain post riders' horses.
The system was more expensive than the traditional, which amounted to giving mail to a traveler bound in the right direction, to pa.s.s hand to hand to others till it reached its destination. The new system was more reliable. Ragnarson hoped, someday, to convince the mercantile cla.s.s to rely on it exclusively, making his system a money-earner for the Crown.
”Jarl. Have some horses saddled and brought round front. Make it... three.
Myself, the wizard, and Ragnar. Haaken's in charge till I get back. His word to be law.
Understand?”
Ahring nodded.
”Valther?”
”I've got it.” He eyed Bragi, expression unreadable.
Bragi realized that his going to the Queen would support the rumors. But he didn't comment. His a.s.sociates could decide for themselves if they should keep their mouths shut.
He studied faces. His gaze settled on Michael Trebilc.o.c.k. The pallid youth still held his aim on Varthlokkur. A machine, that man.
”Excuse me,” Ragnarson told the wizard. ”Michael, come with me a minute.”
He took Michael downstairs, outside, round to the garden. Dawn had begun painting the horizon toward the Kapenrungs. Somewhere there Fiana lay in pain, this child of theirs struggling to rip itself from her womb before its time.
”Michael.”
”Sir?”
”I don't know you very well yet. You're still a stranger, even after several years.”
”Sir?”
”I've got a feeling about you. I like you. I trust you. But am I right?”The garden was peaceful. From the rear Ragnarson's house looked as innocent of terror as were its neighbors.
”I'm not sure I follow you, sir.”
”I don't know who you are, Michael. I don't know what. You stay locked up inside.
I only know what Gjerdrum says. You don't give away a thing about yourself. You're an enigma.
Which is your right. But you've become part of the gang. I hardly noticed you doing it. You're un.o.btrusive.
”You hear things. You see things. You know everybody. I've got a feeling you've got the kind of mind that leaps to conclusions past missing data, and you're usually right. Am I wrong?”
Trebilc.o.c.k shook his head. In the dawnlight he appeared spectral, like a mummy returned to life.
”The question, again. Can you be trusted?” Bragi waited half a minute. Trebilc.o.c.k didn't respond. ”Are you really with me? Or will I have to kill you someday?”
Trebilc.o.c.k didn't react in the slightest. Again Ragnarson had the feeling that fear, to this young man, was meaningless.
”You won't need to kill me,” Michael finally replied. ”I've been here since graduation. This's my country now. You're my people. I am what I am. I'm sorry you don't see it. And you can't help thinking whatever you do. But I'm home, sir.”
Ragnarson peered into Trebilc.o.c.k's pale, pale eyes and believed. ”Good. Then I've got a job for you.”
”Sir?” For the first time since he had met Michael, Bragi saw emotion. And thought he understood. Michael was a rich man's son. What had he ever been able to do for himself or others?
”It's simple. Do what you do. Eyes and ears. Hanging around. Only more of it.
Gjerdrum says you're always prowling anyway.” Ragnarson stared toward the sunrise.
”Michael, I can't trust anybody anymore. I hate it....”
Ahring came out. ”The horses are ready. I had some things thrown together for you.”
”Thank you, Jarl. Michael?”
”Sir?”
”Good luck.”
Ragnarson left the pale young man in deep thought. ”Jarl, I've changed my mind.
You know what's happening with me and the Queen?”
”I've heard enough.”