Dave Duncan – The Living God – A Handful of Men. Book 4

They were halfway across the bailey when a small impish woman in a fancy gown and bonnet came scurrying out the main door to meet them.

Inos felt a jolt of surprise. Who was this? If the council was indeed in session—and while Gath might evade questions, he was never wrong when he did issue a prediction—then officials like Lin would be unavailable. But why had the guards summoned this unknown matron? The woman curtseyed. “You are welcome, welcome, your Majesty! Welcome back!” Whoever she was, her manner hinted that she was returning the keys.

“Thank you. It is good to be back.”

The small woman glanced at the others and her eyes widened. “And Prince Gathmor! You have grown, your Highness, if I may say so!” She bobbed a smaller curtsey to him, glanced over Eshiala and Maya inquisitively and then said, “And his Majesty is also well?”

Inos drew a deep breath, but fortunately Gath’s supernormal reactions diverted her explosion.

“Oh, Dad will be along later. He’s busy saving the world, still. Mom, this is Mistress Sparro.”

“I don’t believe we have met?” Inos inquired sweetly.

“I never had the honor of being presented, ma’am. The chairman and I were married after you left.”

“The chairman?”

Gath was purple with suppressed secrets. “The chairman of the council, of course, Mom. Who do you think has been holding the kingdom together while you’ve been away?”

That was precisely what Inos did not know. Gath was only aware of such things because he was going to find them out shortly. He was not going to tell her anything.

“Indeed, and my husband has done a wonderful job, if I may say so!” Mistress Sparro declared. Modesty was apparently not one of her greater afflictions.

Inos would prefer to judge the state of the kingdom for herself. “Eva and Holi?”

“They’re fine!” Gath said enthusiastically. “Boy, has Holi grown!”

That was all right, then. The children could be greeted when she had time to greet them properly. “Mistress Sparro, please see to our guests.” Inos pulled a. name out of the sky. “Lady Aquiala and her daughter, and Master Jaurg . . .”

Mistress Sparro was curling her lip at the young jotunn. His breeches might be adequate dress in Nordland, but Krasnegarians regarded short sleeves as daring and bare chests as obscene.

“Master Jaurg is our new court sorcerer,” Inos added spitefully. With Mistress Sparro’s squeal of alarm ringing in her ears, the queen swept into her castle.

She stormed along corridors and raced up stairs—always stairs, in Krasnegar. People leaped out of her way with cries of astonishment and joy. She threw open the door of the council chamber and marched in.

There were only a dozen or so gathered along the big table.

At this time of year, most of the citizens had duties elsewhere. Familiar faces turned with frowns to the intruder and broke into smiles of delight. Chairs scraped back. Elderly men and women heaved themselves to their feet, and for a moment nobody said a word. They were, perhaps, too overcome with surprise. Inos was completely out of breath.

And speechless. The man at the head of the table was old Captain Efflio—retired sailor, and a recent arrival in Krasnegar. She had forgotten all about Efflio, the most junior member of the council. But of course when Kadie had dragged her away from a meeting of the council, she had put the captain in charge. He had been the only one present not worked up over some trivial argument, and she had expected to be gone for only a few minutes. So Efflio had continued to run the kingdom all this time?

She smiled then, at the others, the lifetime friends and loyal subjects. Ancient old Foronod, Kratharkran the smith huger than ever, Mistress Oglebone, ancient Bishop Havermore, Lin with his monstrous walrus mustache . . . She was home, and it was all right. Home was safe!

“Good morning!” she said.

“Welcome back, your Majesty!” Efflio bowed, spoiling the effect with a loud wheeze. The spell was broken and all the rest of the council echoed him, bowing and curtseying.

“It is wonderful to be home! And I gather you ladies and gentlemen have kept the plants watered while I was away? You are looking very well, Factor . . .”

By the time she had moved around the table, greeting all of them—even allowing Lin to give her a hug—Efflio had moved away from the president’s chair. He wore a nervous smile and his wheezing was more noticeable.

Inos had recovered her breath. “And you, Captain! I gather you have managed to keep the dogs and cats from coming to blows?” Muddled metaphor! Oh, well, they must all know what she meant.

“My honor, ma’am!”

“I am most grateful,” Inos said. And lucky! Probably only this wily old outsider could have kept peace between imp and jotunn for so long. She sat down, and the others resumed their seats. Clutching a bundle of papers, Efflio moved to a vacant chair.

“Can you bring me up to date quickly?” Inos said. She saw dismay on the impish faces, especially Lin’s. “Or perhaps I should start by bringing you up to date! It is a very long story, though. I am well, as you can see. I have been traveling in far lands, involved in very important matters.”

She considered telling them that she had begun her day in Thume, at the other end of the world, and then decided to take it more slowly. “My husband is well, also. He has assumed some duties that may require a good deal of his time. He has just been appointed—” she drew a deep breath “—warden of the east.”

Jaws dropped.

Eyebrows rose. King Rap had always denied being a sorcerer.

“Prince Gath has returned with me, and he is well. You probably won’t recognize him! And I gather Eva and Holi are well, also?”

The pain under her heart throbbed. She fell silent, waiting for the inevitable question—Princess Kadie? What could she tell them? Probably nothing at all, because the Gods kept Their origins secret.

“It’s wonderful to know you are all safe!” the bishop proclaimed. ”We should have the bell rung! And a special service of thanksgiving, of course! How soon do you suppose his Majesty will be able . . .”

They were not going to ask!

Well, that was a problem to consider at leisure, or perhaps a solution to a problem. She waited for a momentary pause in the ecclesiastical diatribe

“Now, how fares Krasnegar?” She turned to Efflio.

He shook his head sadly. “In dire straits, ma’am! Or it will be soon. No ships have come this year—none at all, none even from Nordland!”

“Well, that’s hardly surprising!” Inos said. Then she registered their blank stares. They did not know! This was sleepy little Krasnegar at the rim of the world, and it had never heard the news.

“There has been a major war! The goblins invaded the Impire. Most of Julgistro has been devastated. That’s why they sent no ships! And the jotnar have, ah, other plans this year.”

“And why no goblins came?” old Foronod exclaimed in his creaky voice.

“Of course! The goblins have been virtually wiped out.” She watched them wrestle with the horrible tidings. True disaster was hard to comprehend in Krasnegar, where a lost fishing boat could plunge the kingdom into mourning. Except for Efflio and the bishop, none of them had ever been more than ten leagues from home in their lives.

Efflio’s wheezing was growing even louder. He was leaning back in his chair, struggling. Inos looked at him in alarm. “I shall be . . . all right, ma’am. Just the shock.” He chuckled with difficulty. “Relief, I mean! The Impire is safe?”

“It is now, but it has suffered a cruel blow.”

“And we?” Lin said loudly from farther down the table. ”Without the supplies from the south, Inos, we face serious shortages for the winter—salt and grain especially. Medicines, too. We were talking about it when you came in.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” She laughed, and saw their amazement. She was going to enjoy this . . .

The door creaked open, and a young man walked in with his eyes closed. He wore a floor-length black gown emblazoned with stars and occult symbols in gold and silver, and his conical hat almost reached the ceiling. His former wispy red beard had become a magnificent torrent of ginger hair reaching to his waist. He inclined his head respectfully to Inos and calmly headed for a vacant chair. The counselors gaped.

Gath’s friend the sorcerer was very little older than Gath himself. Which of them had dreamed up that grotesque outfit? “You may have need of me, ma’am,” he remarked confidently.

“Indeed, I believe we do have need of you,” Inos said, making the best of things. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Master Jaurg, who has agreed to join us here for a while. As I told you, my husband will have other demands on his time in the near future. I have therefore appointed Master Jaurg court sorcerer in his absence.”