Free Book 2 - An Ill Fate Marshalling by Glen Cook Page A

stirred. Wachtel shrugged. „He may know. I haven't told him. Didn't see any need."
    „Maybe he could give you a hand."
    The old man scowled. „Am I incompetent?" He was the best physician in Kavelin, and jealous of his reputation.
    „Guards. One of you get the wizard. He's in the brown guest suite." To Wachtel, Ragnarson added, „Who better to question our friend?" He indicated the dead man.
    „Uhm." Wachtel put a world of disgust into his grunt. He and the wizard had collaborated before. He had a profound loathing for sorcery in every form, though he grudgingly admitted that Varthlokkur was a master of life magicks, and occasionally offered hope when his own science failed him.
    He did not protest much. He was a truly good man, incapable of a spiteful or wicked act. If there had been no other hope for Liakopulos, he would have summoned the wizard himself.
    It would not have occurred to him, though, to yield the corpse to the sorcerer. He only concerned himself with the living.
    He was quite civil when a sleep-fuddled Varthlokkur arrived. He quickly accounted the locations, depths, and severity of his patient's wounds. He controlled his scowl as Varthlokkur ran his hands over the General, making anoth er examination.
    „You've done all you can? Hot broth, and so forth? Herbs for the pain?"
    Wachtel nodded.
    „He ought to recover. Might have trouble using the one arm, and there'll be scars. No point me getting involved."
    Wachtel's scowl lapsed into a somber smile. He turned it on Ragnarson.
    „Check this one," Bragi told the wizard. „This's the man Liakopulos killed."
    „One of the assassins?" Varthlokkur peeled back a lid and stared into an eye.
    „Presumably." Of the room in general, Ragnarson asked, „There couldn't be any mistake, could there?"
    „The General identified him while he was conscious," Wachtel replied.
    Varthlokkur looked at Bragi, said nothing. Ragnarson's skin felt crawly. „The Unborn?" he suggested softly.
    The wizard nodded. „That's the easiest way. Down in one of the closed courts where we won't disturb anybody."
    „Guards. One of you find your sergeant. Tell him I need four men and a stretcher."
    Four Guardsmen came. One was Slugbait. He gave Ragnarson a big grin and rattled a pocket filled with coins before assuming a more businesslike manner. He was a soldier here, not a Captures captain. He and his compan ions rolled the corpse onto the stretcher and awaited in structions.
    „The back exercise court," Ragnarson told them. „Just take him down and leave him."
    Their eyes went to Varthlokkur, slid away. The color left their faces. They had guessed what would happen.
    „Did anyone interrogate Gales?" Bragi asked.
    „Trebilcock," Wachtel replied. „I didn't pay attention. Varthlokkur. Does his breathing seem easier?"
    The wizard bent over the General. „I think so. He's definitely past the worst. He'll make it."
    Ragnarson and the wizard followed the stretcher-bearers. Bragi said, „I saw Mist tonight. I'd stumbled across a couple things I was curious about. She answered my questions, but she was evasive."
    „And?"
    „She's involved in some scheme to get her throne back. She claims a group of Tervola approached her, but nothing would come of it. She's in deeper than she'll admit."
    „And?"
    „You're not contributing much."
    „What do you want me to say?"
    „Your best guess about her. Is she really involved? Can she do anything if she is? What would the consequences be, from my viewpoint? Both if she pulled it off and if she lost out."
    „Is she involved? Of course. Once you attain a throne, you don't give it up without a fight. She felt constrained while Valther was alive. Now she doesn't. Consider her viewpoint. There's nothing here for her since Palmisano. There once was there. Her need for a feeling of self-worth will make her grasp for what's hers by right."
    „She's vulnerable, though. Through her children."
    „Aren't we all?" Varthlokkur sounded sour. „They're