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"Was he always like this?" Trebilcock asked. "How'd he stand up to that King
Norton?"
"Don't pay any mind. It's all act. Come on, you old fraud. We're not here to
hurt you. We want your help. And we'll pay." To the others, "He's got a lot of
pull here. I don't know why. Guess they haven't figured out he's ninety
percent fake."
"Fake? You.... You.... Young man, I'll show you who's fake. Don't come
croaking in my pond when you're a frog."
"You admitted the Power deserted you."
"Ha! Don't you believe it!"
Varthlokkur interrupted. "Marshall, can we get to the point? Seconds could be
critical now. You! Be silent!"
Aristithorn's lips kept moving but no sound came forth. He was doing as
directed while indulging an old vice. He had to talk, Out didn't have to say
anything.
"Old friend," said Ragnarson, "I've risen in the world since our adventure.
I'm Marshall and Regent of Ravelin in the Lesser Kingdoms now. I'm marching to
war. My army lies just beyond Necremnen territory. No. No worry. Necremnos
isn't my target. I'm going to Argon. Yes. I know. Argon hasn't been invaded
since Ilkazar managed it. But nobody has gone about it seriously.... Why?
Because they attacked me. On orders from
Shinsan. They murdered my wife, two of my kids, some of my friends. And they
kidnapped a friend of mine's wife and son. And maybe the friend, too. They're
locked up in Argon's Royal Palace. I'm going to punish Argon."
Aristithorn's gaze flitted to Varthlokkur whenever the urge to verbalize
became strong. Varthlokkur merely stared.
Aristithorn seemed a mouse, but that was pure show. He was a mortal danger to
his enemies.
"What I want is boats. All the boats I can lay hands on. And don't forget,
we'll be in your debt. Varthlokkur's ability to meet his obligations has never
been questioned."
Ragnarson smiled to himself, pleased with his doubleentendre. A threat and a
promise in one simple declarativesentence-which meant little. Varthlokkur was
accepting noobligations himself. This wriggling in the worm pile of
politicswas making a politician of him too.
Aristithorn changed. He sloughed the pretense, stood tall and arrogant. "You
say Shinsan has its hooks in the Fadem? That would explain some strange
things."
"Fadem?" Bragi asked.
"What they call their Royal Palace in Argon," Trebilcock reminded.
"Yes," Aristithorn continued, "Argon has behaved oddly the past few years. And
I've heard that a man resembling a Tervola visits there frequently, and came
here once. Pthothor gave him short shrift, the story goes. This's bad-if it's
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true. This's a sad enough earth without Shinsan creeping into its palaces like
some night cancer. Yes. This explains things that puzzle the wise.
Particularly about the Fadema."
"Queen of Argon," said Trebilcock.
"Boats? Did I hear right?"
"Boats, yes. As many as possible. Big, little, whatever can be had. But
quickly. So I can arrive before they know I'm coming, before the Power returns
and they can see me with their inner eyes."
"Ye might work it.. Argon's defenses be meant to stop land-bound armies."
"Told you he was sharp. Figured it without me telling him a thing."
"Yes, this must be stopped. And Pthothor, with his fear of things Shinsan, and
his lust to be remembered as a conquer-or.... He may join ye."
The old coast reever in Ragnarson became wary instantly. Somebody was hinting
about divvying the plunder. Before the booty was gained. "That might be
useful," he said, trying to sound noncommittal. "As later support. But the
enemy has agents everywhere. We dare not risk ourselves by including anyone in
our plan just now. In a week...?"
"My sense of rectitude compels me to assist ye. But there must be balance."
"Derel. The man's ready to dicker. Don't give him the Royal silverware."
Prataxis was a master. With Varthlokkur to handle the intimidation he soon got
Aristithorn to agree to what Ragnarson considered bargain terms. A modest
amount of cash. A few items believed to be in possession of the Fadema.
Kavelin to sponsor his children's educations at the Rebsamen. The university's
fame had spread far and wide, and a man from these parts who could honestly
claim to have been educated there was guaranteed a high, happy life.
What Ragnarson didn't realize was that Aristithorn had ch! -lren in droves.
His wives were always pregnant, and often bore twins.
Later, as they strolled to the waterfront with the babbling wizard, they were
spotted by a chunky brown man who scrambled into shadows and watched them
pass. His face contorted into a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Only
Aral Dantice noticed him. He had no idea who the man was. Just another curious
easterner....
TWENTY-FIVE: The Assault on Argon
Aristithorn did better than Ragnarson expected. His reputation locally was as
nasty as Varthlokkur's worldwide. Boat owners, merchant captains, no one
refused him more than once. No one quibbled over the vow of silence he
extracted. Boats and ships departed, fully crewed, without question of payment
being raised, though Ragnarson promised owners and crews a portion of the loot
of Argon.
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