“It’s not sorcery I need,” Mist replied. “We have that aplenty in Shinsan. I need people who can reach Ethrian emotionally.”

“We’ll think of something.” Over his shoulder, Bragi said, “I’ll remember this, wizard.”

Varthlokkur was startled by the man’s intensity, but only for an instant. He slammed a book to the floor. Mist jumped. Her nerves were raw. Outside, she asked, “What now?”

She didn’t like this feeling of helplessness, this having to come west to petition aid. It made her feel impotent and incompetent….

“You and me, I guess. Maybe an aunt and a godfather can do the job. Come on. I have to tell Gjerdrum and Derel where I’m going. Old Crankwort back there was right about one thing. I’ve got trouble, judging by the tricks the Thing pulled while we were setting you up. I have to make sure my ass is covered while I’m gone. Otherwise I’m liable to come home and find myself out of a job.”

“There’s not much point to just you and me going. We represent everything Ethrian hates. I don’t think anyone but his mother could reach him now.”

“We’ll have to try, won’t we? If he’s as dangerous as you say?”

“I suppose.”

“How long can you wait? Maybe Varthlokkur will come around.”

“Not long. Lord Ssu-ma is a stubborn man, but he can’t hold out forever.”

“If you have a favorite god, send up a prayer. Maybe if Varthlokkur calms down, he’ll take a closer look. If things are as bad as you say. He’s basically a decent sort. He has a conscience.”

“Maybe. And maybe he’s just a blind old fool.”

Varthlokkur eased into his apartment an hour after his confrontation with Mist and the King. His hands still shook. He was scared. It had been centuries since he had flown into so towering a rage. He’d had to use old fear-fighting tricks from apprenticeship days to calm himself this much.

There was something wrong with him. Some madness smoked through his mind, twisting and knotting. It wasn’t like him to lose control. Was Bragi right? Was his real problem a childish insecurity?

Could Nepanthe handle this? Was she more resilient than he believed?

Had he sold himself a false hope when he’d decided Ethrian would be defeated by sheer entropy?

He lighted a candle, sat, tried to read an old, handprinted text which claimed to be a true history of the origins of Man upon his world. The calligraphy kept sliding out of focus.

Damn! His world was falling apart. It had taken him ages to put a decent life together, and now, suddenly, the whole thing hung by a thread. Hell yes, he was insecure. And when you had fought as long as he had, you damned well deserved something good out of the rest of your life….

A shadow fell across his lap. He jumped, startled. “Nepanthe! What’re you doing out of bed? You had your exercise. You should be resting….” His heart sank as he saw the look on her face. Fear hit like a hammer’s blow.