The King arrived moments later. He spoke with several of his men. She watched him listen and nod, question, listen, and nod. He paused longest with the wizard. Then he came to her, and led her to the eastern end of the table. “Mist, do you know anything more about this business here?”

She felt almost relieved. About this she could speak the whole truth, could speak without having to worry about choosing each word. “We don’t know. We’ve had one garbled message this morning. It said Northern and Eastern Armies still support us, but that they’re too busy with the Deliverer to become directly involved.”

“The Deliverer?”

She glanced up, startled. Varthlokkur had come over, as sudden as a surprise thunderstorm.

“The enemy chieftain out there. They call him the Deliverer. Some kind of prodigy, apparently. He’s decimated Eastern Army. Northern Army and Eastern Army have decided to make a stand on the Tusghus.”

“Uhm.” Bragi studied the map, then glanced at Varthlokkur. “How come you’re so interested?”

“Ethrian. He’s out there somewhere.”

“He’s alive, then?”

Sweat sequined the wizard’s forehead. He rubbed it away. Mist watched him closely. There was something here she hadn’t been aware of before, some strain between the two men. Varthlokkur said, “I’m not sure. Intuition says yes.”

“Maybe we can bring him home. Great for Nepanthe. A new daughter, then her lost son restored.”

“I don’t think so. This isn’t the son she lost. If it is Ethrian, she won’t want him back.”

“You don’t know her very well, then.”

Mist became very attentive. Ethrian? Not dead? What?… She examined the wizard. Never had she seen him so bleak.

“What is it?” the King demanded.

“I’ll never tell her about this—if it’s what I suspect. Forget I mentioned his name. She’s had enough hurt from life.”

Mist frowned. The man wasn’t making sense.

“But—” the King said.

Varthlokkur interrupted. “She doesn’t need the pain. All right? I don’t want her to see her child grown into a monster. I warn you. Tell her and you’ve lost my help forever.”

“Take it easy, man. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Do you, Mist? What are you trying to do, Varthlokkur?”

Mist drifted over to Lord Ch’ien and related what she had heard. “I think you’d better send someone to see what’s happening out there,” she said. “This could be important.”

Lord Ch’ien nodded, beckoned a reliable man from the messenger pool.

Mist turned back to the wizard and King just as Michael Trebilcock came into the room.

She’d never learned the details of Trebilcock’s disappearance and sudden return. Evidently he had gone into the desert kingdom of Hammad al Nakir and found evidence linking the attack on General Liakopulos with the regime there.

The King waved to her. She went over. Bragi said, “Michael says there was an uprising in Throyes. Hsung put it down.”

“I know.”

“He says Hsung is going to deploy the Argonese army in his flanking counterattack against the Matayangans.”