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ilk, were able to summon from Outside.
,Can you suggest a better candidate?"
,You're making a hell of a long jump to a conclusion," Ragnarson said. ,Even
giving you the benefit of the doubt, why attack Liakopulos? You're spinning a
nightmare out of moonbeams."
,Maybe so. Maybe so. But it's the only hypothesis that fits the facts."
,Find some more facts. Try another hypothesis. Say the man had his soul erased
before he was sent. Whoever wanted the General dead would assume his people
would cross your path, wouldn't he?"
,Possibly. I don't think an erasure could be done without destroying the brain
completely. Let me try something else."
Varthlokkur rose and strolled over to the Unborn. He rested one hand on the
thing's protective globe. He closed his eyes. His body became as slack as that
of the dead man. He and the corpse leaned together, two drunken marion- ettes
buoyed by the Unborn.
Ragnarson struggled against the encroachment of sleep. He stood and stretched
his aching muscles. He wondered what Trebilcock was doing. The materialization
of assassins must have been a tremendous blow to Michael's pride. He would be
savage in his effort to unearth something.
The wizard's tall, spare figure slowly straightened. Color returned to his
face. He batted a hand before his eyes as if to scatter a cloud of gnats. He
tottered toward Ragnarson, his gaze still unfocused. After a moment, he said,
,I went inside him. It's amazing how little there is to him. The skills and
cunning a killer needs, but without the background, without the years of
growth and training.... He's maybe a month old. He came from somewhere to the
west. He remembers crossing the Lesser Kingdoms to get here, but isn't clear
about directions or geography. There was someone with him and his brothers.
That someone knew what was going on and told them what to do. He has a vague
memory of his father having lived near the sea. His sole purpose was to
eliminate Liakopulos."
,Ah. Put that together and it sounds like a blow by the Guild against one of
its own."
,What? Oh. I see. High Crag is west, and it overlooks the sea. No. I think my
stab in the dark hit closer to the mark. He remembers his father. Or creator,
if you will. The memory fits what's known of Norath."
,Why Liakopulos?"
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,1 don't know. Usually you ask who would benefit. In this case I can't think
of a soul. The General has no enemies."
,Somebody was willing to make a big investment in getting rid of him."
,The obvious conclusion would be Shinsan. But they're trying to get along.
They're flashing the hand of friendship. And assassination isn't their style."
,Somebody trying to frame them? Somebody who doesn't want peace?"
Varthlokkur shrugged. ,I couldn't name a soul who would be ahead by
maintaining a state of tension."
,Matayanga. Michael's rebel friends in Throyes."
,I doubt it. Too much risk in the backlash if they got found out. And he did
come from the west, not the east."
Ragnarson shook his head. ,I'm getting groggy. I can't get anything to add up.
Liakopulos just isn't that important. Valuable to me because he's a genius at
training soldiers, but that don't especially make him a threat to anybody
else.... I can't go on with this now. It's been a brutal day. Let me sleep on
it."
,I'll have this taken back to Wachtel, then have Radeachar find its brothers
and master. Check with me tomorrow."
Radeachar was the wizard's name for his creature. In the tongue of his youth
it meant The One Who Serves. In the days when Ilkazar had been great,Radeachar
had been the title given wizards who served with the Imperial armies.
,All right. Damn! It's going to take five minutes to get this old carcass of
mine moving."
As Ragnarson turned to leave, a shadow in the courtyard gateway withdrew. The
silent observer had remained unno- ticed even by the wizard's servitor. He
vanished into the Palace halls.
Ragnarson took a couple of steps, paused. ,Oh. I been meaning to ask you. The
name, or title, or whatever you want to call it, of The Deliverer mean
anything to you?"
Varthlokkur started as if stung. Stiffly upright, he faced the King. ,No.
Where did you hear that?"
,Around. If it don't mean anything, how come you're acting like...."
,How I act is my concern, Ragnarson. Never forget that. Forget only that you
ever heard that name. Do not speak it again ever, anywhere near me or mine."
,Well, excuse me, your cranky-assed wizardness. But I got a job to do around
here and anything that might affect Kavelin is damned well my business. And
you and seven gods aren't going to tell me different when I think there's
something I got to do."
,The thing you mentioned, whatever it might be, has nothing to do with you or
Kavelin. Expunge it from your mind. Go, now. I have nothing more to say."
Bemused, Ragnarson forced his weary legs to carry him toward the kitchens.
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What the hell was with the wizard these days? The old grouch knew a damned
sight more than he wanted to let on.
Concern began to fade. His stomach nagged. It was a hollow pit demanding
something more before the body was permitted its rest.
He was trudging down a poorly lighted hallway, still frowning and slithering
around thoughts about Varthlokkur's weirdnesses, when something crinkled be-
neath his foot. By night the castle was lighted only by a few fat-fueled
lamps. One could barely see. One of his little economies.
The odd sound registered late. Bragi stopped, turned back, spotted the
wrinkled piece of paper. Penstrokes marked it. Paper was a scarce commodity.
It did not get wasted. Someone must have lost it. He picked it up and carried
it to the nearest lamp.
Someone had written names in a terrible hand. Bragi could scarcely decipher
some. The author's spelling wanted something, too.
LICOPOLUS with a check mark behind it, and the mark scratched out. ENREDSON.
ABACA. DANTICE. TRIBILCOK. In another grouping, as if set aside, were the
names Varthlokkur, Mist, and others of his supporters. The names of the three
soldiers all had stars in front of them.
He leaned against the wall, sleep forgotten. He smoothed and folded the paper
and slipped it into a pocket inside his jacket.
His three top soldiers first. Why? And why was his own name not on the list?
He thought about taking the paper back to Varthlokkur, decided it could wait.
He resumed his stalk of the kitchens, muttering, ,Bet the old spook-pusher
doesn't find anything. The man running them was right here in the castle."
Something began nagging him. It took him a minute to recognize the crabbing of
his survival instinct. That note! It could indict him as easily as the next
guy. It could have been left for him to find.
He got it out, opened it again, stared, started to stick it into the nearest
torch. Then he had an idea. He tore out the names Trebilcock and Varthlokkur
and burned the rest. He would let Michael and the wizard follow up on their
fragments.
The cooks had nothing but more cold chicken. He sat in a brooding silence,
eating slowly.
Somewhere in the halls, approaching, a voice. ,She said, `Oh, Gales, you can
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