“You know your own people.” And, “What he is to you and what he is to me aren’t necessarily the same thing. He probably thinks of me as a useful trained dog.”

Mist turned quickly, hoping he missed her surprise. That was exactly the way Lord Ch’ien would view a western collaborator. “Master Mundwiller. You haven’t said a word since you got here.”

Mundwiller looked down at the silver bowl. The scene therein continued, mouse-sized players arguing in silence. He harrumphed. “I’ll say good-bye, then. I’m not needed here.” His eyes twinkled.

Aral started to say something, thought better of it. Mist, too, found herself short on words.

Mundwiller paused at the library door. “I’ll leave you with a thought. My friends and I will be more comfortable knowing you’re working with the King.”

“What did he mean by that?” Aral asked once the door closed.

Mist smiled. She ran her tonguetip along the edges of her perfect teeth. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I care.” But she did, of course. Those old moths tumbled and giggled in her stomach. She had dodged fate’s hammer today. Obviously, Mundwiller had allowed himself to be drawn in only so he could apprise the King of the course of her plot. She shivered and concentrated on Aral.

He took a backward step, then retreated round the table. Sudden sweat moistened his face. He looked like a man running from a dream.

He did not escape.

Mist smiled wickedly. From this dream he would never recover. Nor would he want to. She would see to that.

Varthlokkur glanced up as the King stepped into the small room where he held his most private conferences. Bragi seemed smugly pleased. He said, “Mist will be here in a few minutes.”

The woman arrived ten minutes later, ushered in by Dahl Haas. Aral Dantice ran at her heel like a faithful pup. The wizard observed through hooded eyes. Something had changed. There was a new shyness between them. He looked over at the King, who had been acting that way himself. Over a bit of fluff young enough to be his daughter. Must be something going around, he thought.

“Sit down,” the King suggested. “Let’s get to it. I’ve been cooped up in the castle all day, so I don’t feel like arguing. We made a decision. You already know what it was. Now we implement it, Mist. But first, I want to know who the Tervola was and what he was doing in Kavelin without my permission.”

Even Varthlokkur was startled. And a little disgusted. This young man had started with such promise. Now he had spies everywhere, like the worst tyrant.

If he was startled, Dantice was stricken. He made a sound, half belch and half mouse squeak. His eyes widened. And Mist, for one of the few times Varthlokkur could recall, was taken completely off guard.