That amused him. He enjoyed watching a colleague caught short.

“I have my resources too,” the King said. “The Tervola is important to me. Call it a gesture of good faith.”

Mist recovered. She spoke honestly and, Varthlokkur noted, said a few things which surprised Dantice.

The King glanced at the wizard, soliciting an opinion. Varthlokkur had detected no outright falsehood. He nodded. Bragi said, “It sounds good. Assuming Kuo isn’t in on the planning from the other end. What’s your timetable?”

“It’s still iffy. We move when Lord Ch’ien thinks the Matayangan attack has peaked. We seize the key points of the empire. We don’t bother Southern Army till the Matayangan attack ebbs. Only then do we replace Lord Kuo.”

“Right. If he lets you. What if he negotiates his way out of trouble with Matayanga? If he doesn’t attack?”

“The plan isn’t perfect. I’d lose.”

“You wouldn’t try to force that war, would you?”

“No! No more than Lord Kuo is. Shinsan can’t stand much more warfare.”

The King glanced at Varthlokkur once more. Again he could only indicate that he believed she was telling the truth.

The King nodded. “All right, Mist. What can I contribute?”

“You’re doing it. Giving us a safe springboard. The only other thing might be the loan of a few shock troops for the strike itself.”

Varthlokkur studied Dantice, and in his little twitches read what his part in the plot was to have been—before the King had become involved. He was to have gathered the financing for mercenary forces meant to do the job now in the hands of royal soldiery. The lad is a fool, the wizard thought. But this is a woman who can make fools of men far wiser.

The King said, “Sir Gjerdrum, put together the forces she needs. And keep it quiet.”

Varthlokkur turned to the young knight. Poor Gjerdrum. He was bitterly opposed to this venture. None of the King’s arguments had swayed him the least. Yet he was going along, because it was the King’s will.

He’s probably right, Varthlokkur reflected. When you come right down to it, we’re all going along because that’s easier than arguing. And chances are Bragi is being a damned fool. He can’t separate his private feelings from what is politic. If he doesn’t learn soon, Kavelin is in for hard times.

Nepanthe stalked the bounds of her apartment like a thing caged. She was tormented by a diffuse, unconquerable certainty that her world had shifted around her, that suddenly she was a foreigner in her own time. Nothing seemed quite real anymore.