“No. Undress me first. This was an expensive dress. Mustn’t ruin it. Then find Mary and Margo. Tell them to get everything ready.”

“Shouldn’t I get the doctor first?”

“I don’t need him right this minute. Ethrian was twelve hours coming. Elana said he was easy. We’ve got time. Just warn him that it’s coming.”

“It’s too early.”

“Maybe. Maybe I figured it wrong. Nothing we can do about it now.” She was half undressed. She saw how nervous he was. “Let me finish this. You get the maids, tell Wachtel, then come back and get some sleep.”

“Sleep? How could I sleep?”

“You’d better. You won’t be any help at all if you don’t. You’re too tired to think straight now.” She was amazed at herself. She seemed to have changed personalities like changing shoes. The whiner had vanished the instant she found herself faced by a situation wherein she had some control.

“Okay. Sure you’ll be okay if I leave?”

She touched his cheek tenderly. “Of course. Silly man. Old as the world, you are. A destroyer of empires. Creator of a monster like Radeachar. And you’re as nervous as an eighteen-year-old awaiting the birth of his firstborn. And I love you for it. I love you for caring.”

“I’m worried for you.”

“Stop. This isn’t anything a million other women haven’t survived. Just do what I told you. Here. Wait. Help me lie down.”

He looked down at her distended belly and its fiery stretch marks, at breasts swollen to twice their normal size. Nepanthe flinched. She knew she was not attractive this way. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

Tears sprang into her eyes. “Pull the sheet over me and go. Please.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Just do it. Please?”

He did.

Nepanthe broke into wild tears after the door closed. She could not decide whether they were tears of joy or of disappointment.

The wizard moved through the palace with a fast, jerky step, like a marionette manipulated by a drunken puppeteer. Puzzled eyes followed his progress. He didn’t notice. He went directly to the suite occupied by the Royal Physician.

That Doctor Wachtel was held in high regard was evidenced by the fact his personal suite was outshone only by the Queen’s. King Bragi himself occupied only two small rooms. The doctor had five.

Wachtel and the wizard were old philosophical adversaries. The doctor received him with ill-concealed glee, yet did not crow about his having come to petition aid. He asked the pertinent questions, reiterated Nepanthe’s advice. “Get what sleep you can. It’ll be a long time yet. I’ll just check in occasionally till the pains get closer together.”

The wizard grumbled and babbled and asked foolish questions, and the doctor humored him. Only mildly reassured, Varthlokkur returned to his apartment. He went in and held Nepanthe’s hands till the maids ran him out. He tried to rest, without much success.