Tasi-feng sighed and stared at the floor. “As you command, Lord. Lord… maybe you can contact Lord Kuo now.”

“Lord Kuo? I thought he was being retired.”

Tasi-feng shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he has been. We haven’t been in touch.”

Shih-ka’i made a last inspection of the fortress. It was in abominable shape. The witch still lobbed in the occasional blue egg. He suspected Tasi-feng was too optimistic, claiming they could hold two more days.

He and Pan ku went down to the deep cellar where the portals were massed. As always, casualties were passing through. “At least they’ll get out,” he observed. “This is the last place the Deliverer will reach. The men won’t have to make a pointless last stand.”

Pan ku replied, “I hope not, Lord. I’d feel bad if we lost them. The Seventeenth is a good legion.”

TEN: YEAR 1016 AFE
FIRE IN THE EAST

Nepanthe sat at her window, staring without seeing. The extreme end of pregnancy had worsened all her tendencies toward alienation, introversion, and brooding. She cried a lot. She snapped at people for no good reason. She considered the gross swollenness of her belly and loathed herself for being ugly, hated herself for bringing another child into a pitiless world. There were irrational moments when she hated the little parasite growing inside her. She spent much of her time feeling sorry for herself, or, gradually, adding to her obsession with her lost son.

She had little spirit or volition now. She did what her husband told her, what her maids asked. Her great initiatives consisted of starting the occasional conversation.

She had been listless, most of the time, since her first husband’s death, not long after they had lost their son. She’d always been susceptible to mood swings, into this grey state and out. Since Mocker’s death the downs had grown longer every year. She had tried to fake the highs and had failed. She now just stayed out of the way and tried not to complicate her second husband’s life.

Varthlokkur had pursued a hundred wild goose trails in his efforts to quicken her soul. She was aware of his attempts, and only wished he wouldn’t bother. She didn’t think she was worth the trouble.

The most potent draughts and magicks worked only for a short time. Varthlokkur had concluded that only that supreme medicine, time, would cure her. He now left her to haunt her inner landscapes as she would.

She sensed that he had come to stand behind her. She turned. “You look tired, dear.”

“I was up all night. Michael Trebilcock was away on a mission and ran into trouble. I had to send Radeachar to get him out. He’s safely home now.”

“Michael? Isn’t he the one who took Valther’s place?” Thus far had she slipped. Sometimes she couldn’t remember.

“Yes.”