Free Octobers Baby by Glen Cook Page B

Porthune and gates of Octylya in a month. There’ll be a catastrophe if Greyfells has his way. And he probably will. He grows more golden-tongued with the years. The King no longer hears his critics.”
    “Then my days are numbered,” said Ragnarson. His dreams were smoke if Greyfells was back. Inland oversaw the management of Royal Grants even when their original issuance was under the purvue of War. Greyfells would find an excuse to revoke his charter.
    “True,” said the Minister. “He’s working on it. The raid demonstrates it. That, which came to my attention only yesterday, was meant to rid Greyfells of a pain in the neck, and El Murid’s side of a potential thorn.”
    “Politics don’t interest me,” said Ragnarson. “That’s a well-known fact. All I ever wanted from politicians was for them to leave me alone.”
    “But there’s your friend, the Royalist, and your talent for warfare. Your friend’s a threat to El Murid. That makes you a threat.”
    “I’m just one man...”
    “And not that important from where I sit. But important in some minds. And in the mind is reality. It’s no objective thing. You pose a threat if only because they think you do. You aren’t the sort who won’t fight back.”
    “No. Where do you stand?”
    “I always stand opposite Greyfells. And this time, behind your friend. This isn’t to leave this room. The Ministry has been making available certain aid. Funds for which we aren’t accountable, and weapons. This may have to stop. But I’ll remain behind your friend. His success would delay war, maybe prevent it...”
    The Minister’s secretary appeared. “Your Lordship, there’s a gentleman who insists on seeing this gentleman.” His nose wrinkled. Ragnarson glanced down to see if he had forgotten to shake the horse manure off his boots.
    Blackfang rolled in. “Bragi, one of my lads says they raided your place again. My people caught them. Got most of them. What you want to do?”
    For a long time Ragnarson said nothing. Guards came to drag Blackfang away, but the Minister shooed them off. Finally, Bragi said, “I’ll let you know in a minute. Wait outside.” After Blackfang and the secretary departed, he asked, “What would happen if Greyfells were assassinated?”
    The Minister frowned thoughtfully behind steepled fingers. “They’d want heads. Yours if they connected you. His son would take his place.”
    “If both were to go?”
    “He has four sons. Peas from a pod. Chips from the block. But it’d buy a few months. And get the kingdomturned upside down. How many people at your place? Better think about them.” “I am.”
    “Something could be arranged... If I could get them to safety?...”
    “You’d have a corpse. I hate to lose the place, but it looks like I’m damned no matter what.”
    “Keeping it could be fixed. Yourgrant runs to the river. That puts it in a military zone. I could take it over till this blows away. I’ll have to put troops in anyway, if you and your eastern friend leave a forty-mile gap unpatrolled. If I don’t, I’ll have the north woods thick with bandits from Prost Kamenets, and trade with Iwa Skolovda cut off. But getting you, and your eastern friend, off the hook would take some doing. You might have to stay away for years.”
    “I think,” said Ragnarson, “I’ll have to do that anyway. To get help reaching Greyfells.” He was on the edge of decision. He knew where to buy the knife, but the price would be playing Haroun’s game in Kavelin.
    “We’ll meet tomorrow, then. Where’re you staying?” “King’s Cross, but I may move. We had some trouble in New Haymarket. Greyfells might try to have us arrested.”
    “Uhm. Charge would only have to stick till something regretable happened in the dungeons. He’s foxy. All right. Wansettle Newkirk, ten in the morning. You know it?”
    “I can find it.”
    “Good luck then.”
    Ragnarson rose, shook the Minister’s hand, joined Blackfang. He remained