A Path to Coldness of Heart by Glen Cook Page B

herself.
    Excellent.
    “Innsman, your situation won’t improve much here.”
    “It’ll be better than it was.” He described increasingly erratic and ugly behavior by the Duke. Nothing was ever his fault. He was not well, and had become a monster toward those Kaveliners within his power. He abused their younger teen daughters.
    “Surely you exaggerate.”
    She knew that was true, though. It was no secret inside the family.
    “Believe what you please, Majesty.”
    “Forget it. Find yourselves places in the barracks. And ask Dr. Wachtel to treat your injuries. He has plenty of time.”
    Inger rested her head in her hands. It just got worse. She was doomed. She had only a handful of men, too few to succeed here and not enough to manage an escape. While Dane kept on making sure that Itaskians were hated as much as possible.
    This kingdom was insane. It turned good people bad and bad people worse. It ate them all. Then it sucked in more.
    General Liakopulos may have demonstrated a burst of genius by escaping. If he was not lying in a shallow grave somewhere.
    This was all Michael Trebilcock’s fault.
    She had no evidence. Not so much as a rumor. But she was ready to bet her soul that Trebilcock was out there tugging strings.
    There was some comfort in being able to blame an invisible external devil for all one’s woes.
    ...
    A blunted arrow struck Dane of Greyfells’ helmet as his purported deserters entered Castle Krief. The soldiers laid down their arms before their Duke finished collapsing. They had no skin in the game.
    Babeltausque revealed himself immediately. He had failed to detect the ambush. Inger’s men had not given it away. There would be no sweet Mayenne cunny now.
    There might be no getting back home at all.
    Babeltausque did not need to indulge in the formal, scientific astrology necessary to predict the future. With Greyfells imprisoned, the man’s following would disappear. His fever dream was dead. Once this news escaped Kavelin the Greyfells family would cease to matter in political equations.
    Babeltausque, hands bound, feared there would be no live Itaskians in Kavelin come New Years.
    Chaos would take complete charge.
    ...
    Inger intercepted the sorcerer before he could be shoved into a cell. “Remove his gag, please.”
    The soldiers were her last Wesson loyalists. They knew what Babeltausque was. They thought Inger touched for not having him killed right away. But they followed instructions.
    Inger looked Babeltausque in the eye. “You know how grim my situation is. Our situation, if you include Dane.”
    The sorcerer nodded.
    “Can you abandon him? Can you come over to me?”
    Babeltausque nodded repeatedly.
    “Unless you’re better than I think we’re likely to get run out of Kavelin. If we’re lucky. If they let us go. You’d have to explain yourself back home.”
    “As would you.”
    “I no longer care. I’m not ready to run yet, though. I have a little fight left. I’d have more than a little if I had your help.”
    The sorcerer nodded some more.
    “I’ll work you harder than Dane ever did. You’ll be a lot more than a pet astrologer.”
    Babeltausque went slightly grey. “At last. An opportunity to make use of my talents.”
    The soldiers snickered.
    Inger said, “Turn him loose.”
    They did so with obvious reluctance.
    She told them, “If he becomes a problem you can say you told me so while you’re roasting him. Sorcerer. Come along. I’ll show you where to work.” Which would be in the suite Varthlokkur used when he resided in Castle Krief. “You’ll get one servant. There’ll be no touching. Understand?”
    “I gather that fierce temptation will be set so as to test me.”
    “You don’t want to fail.”
    The sorcerer adopted his most blank expression.
    “Let me know when you’re ready to start.”
    “How soon do you need me?”
    “Today, if you can.”
    The sorcerer sighed and strove to keep up.

    †

CHAPTER SIX
    YEAR 1017 AFE:
    KING WITHOUT A