words never spoken.
„The Lady Yasmid has led me into a more mature path."
„Good for her." Bragi groaned as he struggled to his feet.
His muscles had set like mortar. „I won't be able to move tomorrow." He backed away, not turning till he was outside throwing range. A sensible man took no chances. The
Harish were masters of the knife.
He continued his interrupted journey, puzzling the way things were turning around. So much was becoming in verted to the traditional.
This making a deal with Yasmid... . Something told him it was right. He had a feeling the day would come when he would need friends as desperately as she did now. And the people of Hammad al Nakir, of whatever religious or political persuasion, could be as hardy in friendship as they were steadfast in enmity. Hadn't Megelin's father, Haroun, twice surrendered his chance at the Peacock Throne so that he could help friends? Wasn't that very friendship the reason a boy now sat on the Peacock Throne, going off in his own strange direction?
What about Michael? His testimony supported Habibullah's, and vice versa. So unless there was a plot... . „Damn!" He was getting
too
paranoid.
He should get the two men together. But Habibullah wanted the thing kept below the horizon for the time being. Probably more for Hsung's benefit than anything. I can't go working against Haroun's son, can I? But if I don't, I'm abandoning his wife, and she's more dear to me than the boy... .
„Is a conundrum, as Mocker used to say," he muttered. Mother and son were at war, and he had an obligation of friendship to each.
„Guess in a choice like this I have to go with self-interest." Meaning his intuition had been right all along. He would have to stick with Yasmid.
Bragi pulled the bell cord. Behind the door, someone grumbled about the time. An old man opened up, ready dagger in hand. No one trusted the night.
„Hello, Will."
„Sire! We weren't expecting you."
„That's all right. I don't know what I'm going to do half the time."
„Yeow!" a girlish voice shrieked from the rear of the house. „Daddy's here! I hear Daddy!"
He got three steps inside before a whirlwind of pigtails and flailing arms hit him. His son Gundar also ran in, but became a stately, manly twelve the moment he was on stage. „Hello, Father."
„Hello, Gundar." His daughter-in-law appeared. „Hi, Kristen. They giving you too much to handle?" Could she be just nineteen? She looked so damned old and wise.
„Father." A smile seized the girl's taut lips. Now she looked her age. „They haven't been any trouble."
„Where's my boy? Where's Bragi?"
„Into mischief, probably. Come on in. Let's get you comfortable. Find you something to eat. What have you been doing? Wallowing with the hogs? You're filthy."
„Playing Captures, huh Dad?" Gundar asked.
„I was. And we beat their pants off, five to three." He was getting high on the victory. Maybe he wasn't quite ready for the midden heap.
„The Panthers? Dad!" The boy's voice rose to a wail. „What did I do?"
„You were supposed to lose," Kristen said. „He bet against you."
„What kind of family loyalty is that?"
„But Dad... ."
„Never mind. I've been hearing it all day." In a half-serious tone, he added, „I hope Ravelin's friends don't start thinking that way. We'd be in big trouble."
„How's the baby?" Kristen asked. Her voice trembled.
Bragi rubbed his forehead, hiding a frown with his hand. Didn't take her long to get to it, he thought. „Healthy as a wolf cub. Eats and howls like one, too."
„That's good. Sometimes when there's a hard delivery. ..."
He was tempted to take Inger, Kristen, their brats, and Gundar, shake them up in a sack, then set them all down together and explain that only he had been made King. There had been nothing in the deal for his offspring. And if he had the opportunity to choose his successor, he probably would not pick someone of his own blood. He would pick someone whose skill and judgment
„The Lady Yasmid has led me into a more mature path."
„Good for her." Bragi groaned as he struggled to his feet.
His muscles had set like mortar. „I won't be able to move tomorrow." He backed away, not turning till he was outside throwing range. A sensible man took no chances. The
Harish were masters of the knife.
He continued his interrupted journey, puzzling the way things were turning around. So much was becoming in verted to the traditional.
This making a deal with Yasmid... . Something told him it was right. He had a feeling the day would come when he would need friends as desperately as she did now. And the people of Hammad al Nakir, of whatever religious or political persuasion, could be as hardy in friendship as they were steadfast in enmity. Hadn't Megelin's father, Haroun, twice surrendered his chance at the Peacock Throne so that he could help friends? Wasn't that very friendship the reason a boy now sat on the Peacock Throne, going off in his own strange direction?
What about Michael? His testimony supported Habibullah's, and vice versa. So unless there was a plot... . „Damn!" He was getting
too
paranoid.
He should get the two men together. But Habibullah wanted the thing kept below the horizon for the time being. Probably more for Hsung's benefit than anything. I can't go working against Haroun's son, can I? But if I don't, I'm abandoning his wife, and she's more dear to me than the boy... .
„Is a conundrum, as Mocker used to say," he muttered. Mother and son were at war, and he had an obligation of friendship to each.
„Guess in a choice like this I have to go with self-interest." Meaning his intuition had been right all along. He would have to stick with Yasmid.
Bragi pulled the bell cord. Behind the door, someone grumbled about the time. An old man opened up, ready dagger in hand. No one trusted the night.
„Hello, Will."
„Sire! We weren't expecting you."
„That's all right. I don't know what I'm going to do half the time."
„Yeow!" a girlish voice shrieked from the rear of the house. „Daddy's here! I hear Daddy!"
He got three steps inside before a whirlwind of pigtails and flailing arms hit him. His son Gundar also ran in, but became a stately, manly twelve the moment he was on stage. „Hello, Father."
„Hello, Gundar." His daughter-in-law appeared. „Hi, Kristen. They giving you too much to handle?" Could she be just nineteen? She looked so damned old and wise.
„Father." A smile seized the girl's taut lips. Now she looked her age. „They haven't been any trouble."
„Where's my boy? Where's Bragi?"
„Into mischief, probably. Come on in. Let's get you comfortable. Find you something to eat. What have you been doing? Wallowing with the hogs? You're filthy."
„Playing Captures, huh Dad?" Gundar asked.
„I was. And we beat their pants off, five to three." He was getting high on the victory. Maybe he wasn't quite ready for the midden heap.
„The Panthers? Dad!" The boy's voice rose to a wail. „What did I do?"
„You were supposed to lose," Kristen said. „He bet against you."
„What kind of family loyalty is that?"
„But Dad... ."
„Never mind. I've been hearing it all day." In a half-serious tone, he added, „I hope Ravelin's friends don't start thinking that way. We'd be in big trouble."
„How's the baby?" Kristen asked. Her voice trembled.
Bragi rubbed his forehead, hiding a frown with his hand. Didn't take her long to get to it, he thought. „Healthy as a wolf cub. Eats and howls like one, too."
„That's good. Sometimes when there's a hard delivery. ..."
He was tempted to take Inger, Kristen, their brats, and Gundar, shake them up in a sack, then set them all down together and explain that only he had been made King. There had been nothing in the deal for his offspring. And if he had the opportunity to choose his successor, he probably would not pick someone of his own blood. He would pick someone whose skill and judgment
Similar Books
