Chapter 17:

War Beat

He was still having a bit of a problem keeping his head clear, but Lord Paul Chelsted was eager to leave his bed as quickly as possible. There were so many things that only he could put into motion if he was going to reverse the damage that destiny, bad luck and, if he was honest with himself, his own response to pressure, had saddled him with. His breath sounded too thin in his ears and he could feel the slight sheen of sweat on his brow. Clenching his teeth, Lord Paul rested one arm against the smooth hardwood of his table, trying to gather his strength. Oh, he hated being reduced to this! But if everyone still thought him abed…

His back stiffened at the sound of light footsteps behind him. Reaching for that instinctive urbanity that had served him well in so many situations, he picked up the glass on the table. "Ricketts," he surmised aloud, recognizing the pattern of the soft footfalls. "Lord Odney refused to see you, but Lord Zocc did not, am I correct?" He took a sip of the drink, hoping to steady his nerves. It burned all the way down his throat, but Lord Paul needed something strong if he was to keep his head free from the fogginess of his recovering body.

"Yes, my lord," Ricketts mumbled.

Lord Paul gulped the rest of the drink, winced at the sharpness of the liquid and forbore to comment on the fact that his manservant was still mumbling like a weaker man. They are all weaker than me. At least Ricketts recognizes this. "And what did the Green Baron keep you for, all that time, hmm?"

"Lord Zocc was some minutes appearing, my lord." Ricketts cleared his throat, somehow making even that sound vague. "Also, I was not the only caller upon him."

"Oh?" Lord Paul's hands busied themselves with straightening his velvet collar, just as much to keep the tension in his hand from becoming apparent as because the cloth needed attention.

"Lord Jarvos solicited Lord Zocc to meet with the Lord Regent."

"Ah." Kronos again. Or Jarvos himself? Lord Paul silently chided his distraction. He supposed that it was reasonable enough for Lord Jarvos to imagine an opening to power now; he was far cleverer than the rest of the assorted nobles excepting only Zocc and Lord Paul himself. Yes, what was Lord Jarvos's game? Still, that would be irrelevant… soon, he hoped. "And what was Lord Zocc's response?"

"He will meet you, my lord…"

"As soon as the Lord Regent does not require his time," Lord Paul murmured, following the audible pause. "And Lord Odney refused to see you at all?"

"We shouted through his door, but yes, my lord."

"What are we to do with a man like Odney?" Lord Paul shook his head in contempt. As reckless as ever. Nonetheless, even a fool like Odney could have a place in the maneuvering to come. Indeed… "Lord Odney has solicited no one since returning to the castle? He is truly alone?"

"I could not swear to it, my lord."

Lord Paul drifted into a frustrated silence. There were still one or two gaps that he could not be certain of. Lord Paul preferred certainty in his plans, ones where his own neck was concerned, at least. Still, Lord Odney would serve his purposes admirably. The man was clearly frightened for his life; there was no other reason for so brashly barricading himself in. And that meant that he was desperate for support. "When did Lord Zocc propose to meet me?"

"He could not be certain my lord. Within the hour at the earliest."

An hour. Not much time. "Ricketts, return to Lord Odney. Tell him that I propose to meet with Lord Zocc. Tell him, that I've offered to… intercede on his behalf." He paused for a moment longer, contemplating the turn of the knife. Yes, every insult returned in kind. "In exchange for a retraction of and apology for the insults he uttered unto my presence the last time we spoke. That will assure him that the offer is sincere." Silence greeted him and Lord Paul looked over his shoulder. Ricketts stood there looking grey and tired. "Are you unwell, Ricketts?" Ricketts stared mutely back into his eyes, a wariness in his manner that Lord Paul could not recall ever having seen before.

He took a few moments to formulate the words, knowing that he would need his gift of eloquence all the more if his plans came off. I can spare something for Ricketts… his loyalty to me demands loyalty in turn. "You think it unseemly?" Lord Paul sighed deeply, the old affection lending him a real sense of melancholy. "What I do is for Galam, Ricketts. Never forget that."

"My lord…" Ricketts gazed at him, his face an equal mix of helplessness and fascination. It was more gratifying than it ought to have been.

Only Ricketts. He wishes for some other way. "You served my father before his death as well. The truth, Ricketts. I know that I am the greatest man you have ever known. Galam is at risk from forces much worse than me… and much less prepared to spare Galam than I am. Go to Lord Odney. Tell him. And take the rest of the hour for yourself, man." He tried to inject his tone with humor. "I won't need you again for awhile."

Ricketts nodded once, his head downcast as he murmured, "You are indeed a great man, my lord." He turned and left as he had come, a fluttering grey presence on the edges of Lord Paul Chelsted's intentions.

"Ah, Ricketts," he murmured, pouring himself a second drink. He need only wait a few minutes. There were some secrets that a man and his personal attendant had. There were other secrets that a man had with himself. Lord Paul shook his head at the flavor of the liquor, pulled his cloak tighter across his shoulders and strode out of the apartments.

He made no particular effort to avoid being seen as his boots clacked softly against the stonework, rougher as he descended towards the oldest part of the castle. It would not do to be seen moving around so freely, of course, but the risk was necessary. If any of the minor lords saw him, Lord Paul doubted that they would have the presence of mind to attach it any true significance. Kronos and Zocc were both already occupied and Ricketts was making enough activity to have thoroughly fascinated whomever Zocc had assigned to watch over Lord Paul at the moment. It was a rare opportunity to move without being seen and there were some things that only Lord Paul could accomplish.

Without altering his pace in the slightest, he turned left at the dungeons sweeping down into the lowest level of all. The subterranean coolness left him feeling damp and sickly and Lord Paul paused for a moment, resting his arm against the wall. He clenched his teeth. I haven't spent years fighting for this just to turn even my own strengths into a thing of shame. Galam will be preserved. His step only just unsteady, he resumed down the stairs.

He stopped again, three steps before the bottom. His eyes had adjusted to the gloom, although this cavernous chamber was never bereft of light of its own. It had always seemed to gleam of its own accord. Lord Paul had only been down here twice before, but he knew the importance that this place held for the rulers of Galam. Zeon had taught them all that, during his brief period of ascendancy. "I thought I might find you here." He completed the last steps with dignity and grace, the reason he'd stopped again, to gather that strength.

Shaita turned, but the look of desperation on his face was no more than what Lord Paul had previously noted as customary and so he could not be certain if the shaman was alarmed or not. His eyes flickered briefly, but he bowed his head. "My lord," he rasped. "I am honored, but, I confess, perplexed."

Lord Paul shook his head smilingly. "I imagine that you can think of at least three reasons that I might have come here." He paused, enjoying the narrowing of the shaman's eyes. "And you're trying to think if you overlooked any possibilities before you try to pin down my reason. Is it so sinister if I wanted to have a look at one of the greatest foes Galam has ever faced?"

Shaita frowned. "How did you know I was keeping Astral here?"

Lord Paul took the last steps forward, thinking quickly. The ratman was not as clever as he'd taken him for or it was the prelude of an attempt to pump him for information. "I saw Zeon several times before he left Grans for other wars…" He shrugged. It was not the most artful tactic he could have proceeded under, but honesty would get him what he wanted for the moment. "This place has some kind of magical resonance. I understand that."

Shaita nodded several times, his own expression turning pensive. Finally he said, "Why don't you tell me what you want, Lord Chelsted."

Lord Paul smiled. "Amusingly enough, I was about to ask you the same question." Forestalling Shaita's next question, he continued, "I know, for instance, what Kronos wants. I know what the Green Baron wants. I imagine you know those things too."

Shaita frowned. "Would it perhaps be faster to tell you what I am not interested in?"

I thought so. No mage, a theorist above all, could possibly be as stupid as this one seemed. Myopic, perhaps, but then it's all a question of direction. "King Galam ruled over us unquestionably even after the devils took over. Even when he was not himself, we loved him for his accomplishments. Even the lack of a clear heir… and if some few of us learned a different lesson from Zeon, what were we to do?"

"Indeed, Lord Paul. Zeon, I am aware, was a being of no restraint and less taste. But that too is not really my field." He was speaking quietly and without emotion, only his face retaining any vestige of the customary nervousness. "But I am still not quite certain what relevance that has to me. Isn't that the kind of information that depends on whom you tell it to?"

"Exactly," Lord Paul Chelsted said, smiling again.

Kronos stalked back and forth across the room, his lips drawn back in a snarl. Always, he was surrounded by fools! "If he's locked himself into his quarters, then drag him out!"

"Come, Kronos." Zocc held up a forestalling hand. "Surely you must see that abusing Odney further would damage even our position."

Kronos' shoulders clenched tighter than ever as he threw himself down on a couch. The Green Baron was quickly becoming worse than useless. He still persisted in ignoring the dignity accorded to a Lord Regent, still persisted in arguing over every decision, still persisted in giving intelligence reports that could mean either this or that. He swept his narrowed gaze across Zocc's face and finally made a disgusted gesture. "Faugh. No more of it, then."

"In Odney's case, I believe that it best serves to-"

"I said; no more of it."

The corners of Zocc's mouth turned sharply down. "As you command."

"Yes," Kronos hissed. "Let us turn our attention to matters of command. Commands I need hardly remind you that only I have the authority to give!"

The Green Baron turned his head aside. "Nobody here has denied that."

Insolent wretch. Kronos let the moment linger, allowed his displeasure to coil in the air. Finally he went on, "There are at least three matters that need firm resolution." Four if we count Odney. Five if I count you, my lord. "Mayhaps beginning with the matter least fraught will be more to your taste and a matter which it seems that our friend, Lord Jarvos here, can best attend to."

Lord Jarvos, standing silent by the sideboard all the while, inclined his head. "Thank you, Lord Regent."

Zocc looked from one face to the other. "Lord Jarvos has an estimable record of service, I grant, but hardly a military one."

Jarvos' lips thinned. It would be hard to call it a smile. "Nor have I have disgraced myself in such matters, Lord Zocc. No more than you have." He glanced at Kronos, and Kronos nodded. Jarvos went on, "The Lord Regent is in need of stout-hearted men at this juncture. The Granserian Butcher continues to haunt the edges of our domains, and Galam's position is far from assured. Not all of the other lords have been mindful of the duty they owe to one who has bled for Galam and now takes on all the burdens of rule."

Zocc frowned. "You can't mean to replace Saentz in the field? This quickly? Against Bowie? All else aside, Saentz's force was almost entirely his own, you'd have to raise the troops and—"

"Lord Jarvos would see himself to good service in the north." Kronos rose. "It is a task that needs attention and not such a great number of men." He arched an eyebrow. "This is a turn that even you should approve of."

Zocc made a flustered gesture. "All to the good, I am sure. But is Lord Jarvos the right man for such a task? Surely a military commander of tested measure could make the most of a small force. We had mooted the possibility of Tiberius…"

"I will not put that man at the head of an army." Kronos was tired of having it out. At every juncture Zocc proposed giving important positions to enemies. Well, Kronos was not foolish enough to place a sword in the hands of men who would do him violence. "In any event, even granting that securing and expanding our control to the north is not so difficult a task as dispatching Bowie; it is an independent command that requires time. And," he concluded, nodding to Jarvos again, "it is an honor that Lord Jarvos has requested."

The silence lasted barely a second this time. "I see," said Zocc, an easy smile flickering into place. "And I'll drink to it, Lord Jarvos, if I may." He crossed the room in a rapid stride to join Jarvos at the sideboard. Lord Jarvos's lips thinned again, and he handed Zocc a glass. "Though I confess, I'd not realized you sought such honors, indeed had already selected them."

Jarvos filled a second glass for the toast. "Any man may seek to rise high in a Lord Regent's service, my lord. As you have."

Kronos chuckled; ease beginning to return to him. "I think he has you there, eh, Zocc?"

"Of course," Zocc murmured, lifting his glass. "To our continued success." The lords drank on it, and Zocc turned to face Kronos again, his face smooth and agreeable. "But I can still count, Lord Regent. That's one matter addressed. You said three."

Jarvos gave a swift bow. "Unless you have further need of me, Lord Regent, I have no desire to compromise sensitive matters of security…"

"You may go, Jarvos. Begin gathering your swords; I hope to see you in the field within two days."

Jarvos bowed again, smiled, and sidled out. Kronos was silent for a moment in contemplation. "Pour me a glass of that, would you?" He watched Zocc's hands at work. And then, "He's in your pay, isn't he?"

Zocc didn't even start. "Jarvos? No. He pays some of my men. I can decide how much they tell him." He turned from the sideboard, glass in hand. He held it out to Kronos. "Secrets are expensive."

"And yours," Kronos drawled, "have been failing us for some time now."

Zocc stood very still, glass proffered in hand. "My Lord Regent—"

"Spare me your excuses." Kronos took the glass from Zocc's hand and sipped, more for effect than anything else. "You did well at Granseal, I grant you. But it is obvious enough that you, Green Baron, were dancing someone else's tune the whole time. You had internal information for us to get away with Astral. Now Bowie camps on our borders and Graig offers new negotiations with us."

"You suspect Graig?" Zocc frowned, "I hardly think—"

"What you think is no longer the point. Graig offers us Lemon and that's a point to be dealt with one way or another. It's not clear whether he's hoping to help Bowie or if the offer has no teeth. But if he has Lemon on his hands, we can hardly allow anyone else to pick up on this."

"General Lemon was taken by Zeon. The man might be a symbol, but he no longer has the power to change things."

Kronos was tired of leaving daggers behind him, pointed at his back no doubt. He was tired of needing to secure his position. He'd already risked everything on Galam's behalf, and at no small measure on the strength of Zocc's information. "That depends," he said coldly, "on whose tune we're dancing to. You didn't just have inside information about where Astral was vulnerable; there was this informant of yours about Bowie's camp. And that expedition ended in disaster!"

"I cautioned you against going too fast, my lord. I have a man, Arjan he calls himself, who rides with Bowie, but that alone is not enough. Saentz must have made his own mistakes."

"Or your informant played you for a fool."

Zocc opened and closed his mouth. After another moment of indecision, he went down on his knees and spread his hands in supplication. "My Lord Regent, I have sought my best to serve. What more would you have of me?"

Kronos grunted. His ire receded a bit at the proper display of respect. "You have channels in Granseal. In a time of open war, you most like are the only one of our number who does. Make sure Graig knows we accept his offer, on condition he conduct the negotiations in person, to assure us of his sincerity."

Zocc fell back on his calves, rubbing a worried palm against his arm. "You mean to go through with it then? Violating truce?"

"Graig," Kronos replied, "cannot be 'violated.'"

Zocc shook his head. "It need not come to that, Lord Regent. There is yet a better way. You need have no fears of dissension in Galam if you strengthen your ties here. Not just with neutral men of Jarvos's stamp. Preempt Tiberius and Lord Chelsted, my lord. Bind them to yourself, with honor."

Kronos could feel a vein throbbing in his forehead. Always that same accursed refrain. Always the insinuations that he could be replaced by Lord Paul, should Zocc wish to see it so. "You never did complete that report on Lord Paul's movements," he said coldly.

"I have lists of his habits, his visitors, his friends." Zocc shook his head. "What does that avail you, Lord Regent? All men know of your… distaste for each other. What more powerful symbol of unity and respect can there be but a full alliance between the two of you? Lord Paul is only free to hurt you so long as he is free to move unattached to you. Make it impossible for him to strike against you. Make a bond that he cannot break without dishonoring himself."

The breath turned hard and raspy in his body. To allay Lord Paul at all was obscene. And brilliant. "You still mean Corinna."

"Lord Paul cannot, will not refuse such a link, and you, my Lord Regent gain everything."

Kronos stared in disgust at the man, kneeling before him. A man who would truly buy and sell everything. A man who knew too much. And a man he could still not do without. Not until after Graig. Not unless Zocc truly acted on his thinly veiled threats. Not unless… "I want that report," he said at last.

The air was fogged thick with grief. Tears wetted Jaha's eyes, less because of Frayja's words as the round priest exhorted them all to emulate all of Elric's many fine qualities and more because the pain still stabbed at his head. He'd taken quite a blow in the battle and still suffered bouts of dizziness. Nonetheless, he'd needed to be here.

Wincing at a particularly sharp ache between his brows, Jaha peered fervently forward. Elric's dead face was smooth, pale and immaculately elven, aside from the ruin on the edge of his throat at the shoulder. The funerary cloak did not extend quite far enough to conceal the full extent of the violence. An angry sweeping cut, cleaving through Elric's side, muscle, bone and flesh all torn leading to an almost instantaneous death… Jaha could still see the full extent of that dreadful wound, and the shame of it made him squirm despite the solemnity of the occasion.

How had it happened? That was the question Jaha kept asking himself, casting his mind back into the chaos of screams and steel, fire and horses. He had been on sentry duty himself on the next nearest point to Elric and had been passing close by when the fighting began. The enemy force had been disorganized and chaotic nearly from the start and Jaha had swept in, eager to do his part that he too would share in the glory, come the day of peace. And Elric had fallen away before his eyes… He'd failed to protect his comrade. Or even… Jaha shivered with uncertainty and stopped trying to be so particular with the details. He hadn't struck that fatal blow… had he?

"…In the wake of this deplorable loss," Frayja declared, sounding as though he were beginning to wrap up, "we may feel an absence in our lives, but our determination to win a lasting peace will be all the brighter. Elric wished it so when he fought to preserve our world from the Devils. And in our mourning, we cannot offer any less." The priest paused for breath before continuing in the same vein for several minutes, but at the last, even Frayja could not keep talking forever.

Bowie stepped forward then, golden, gleaming and subdued. Truly, his old friend had learned how to seem a lord. Jaha envied him that. Bowie released a clenched fist of earth upon Elric's still form, and turned away, beginning the last ceremony. One by one, in some cases in groups of two, the assembled gathered together and circled past Elric's body, paying their last respects.

Jaha stumped forward, towards the back of the group with only a handful lingering behind him. The faces he passed by were grim, thoughtful, wary. He sensed little appetite amongst them for the sacrifice. A sacrifice made to an increasingly less clear mission. Jaha came up to the body, and there stood Janet, an elven archer herself, and Elric's particular lady friend. Fresh shame and uncertainty squirmed in his ribcage. "Janet," he said, opening his arms wide and crushing her against him. "I am so sorry."

Her face was pale, and eyes watery, but he didn't see evidence of a single tear. "No," she shook her head, pushing him away. "It's alright, Jaha. Being on the frontlines was like him."

Jaha didn't know how to contradict that gracefully, so he scratched the back of his neck. "No ummm… It's just, y'know, I was on the next sentry post over. I feel like I should have gotten there sooner or something."

Janet shook her head. "His shift was over before the battle started." She broke off with a watery sigh. "Oh what difference does it make? He obviously decided to stay longer… or his replacement was late."

"The loss of life always matters." Frayja's rotund form popped up on the opposite side of the corpse. He sighed theatrically. "Still, his dignity and self-sacrifice must serve as an exemplum to us all. To possess that presence of mind in the midst of battle is a remarkable thing, is it not?" He favored a small smile, looking from one to the other.

"Uh," Jaha flushed, feeling singled out. "Yeah. He always had guts alright." He smiled weakly at Janet. "Anyway, sorry… uh, intrusion into grief." He beat a quick retreat, as Frayja stepped around, slipping an arm around Janet's shoulders.

Come on, Jaha, snap out of it. He laughed uneasily as he hurried off. It was just the pain in his head, and the awkwardness of being face to face. He wouldn't kill his own comrade in battle, he knew that. He'd fought often enough before, and sure, the blood heated up a little… Still, Frayja's "presence of mind" line, almost as if the priest knew what he was thinking… It gave him the creeps.

Most of the force had dispersed already, as soon as they were done paying respects. Jaha didn't blame them. He supposed they felt just as off about the whole thing as he did. Most had duties to attend to anyway. Although come to that, Jaha wondered, what was there to do, around here? They'd been camped next to this Yeeli forest for days now, and alright, licking wounds after a hard-fought battle was one thing, but…

Heading for his tent, he spotted Sarah and brightened at once. "Hey!" He waved at her and jogged over, the pain in his head almost forgotten. "Hey," he grinned. "How ya been, kiddo?"

Sarah smiled, but her eyes were far away and glassy. Her face looked pale. "Hey, Jaha…"

He frowned for an effort of remembrance. "You were out of it too, huh? Guess you and Kazin got pretty beat up out there." He shrugged. "Looks like you've come through it gorgeous as ever!"

She let out a soft puff of air. "Kazin." And then the smile really switched back on. "He's a good guy to have watching your back. Anyway, all this..." She made a vague hand gesture. "Bad luck, mostly."

"Hey," Jaha began, "why'd you get so badly wounded if you were on the way back from Granseal? There shoulda been a lot more cover for one thing and…" His voice died at the expression on her face. "Things didn't go so good back home?"

"Granseal," Sarah muttered. "I don't know what I can say about that. Granseal was… was…"

"Jaha!" The two turned at that, and Bowie came striding forward, flanked by Kazin and Chester, Luke swooping in low, overhead. "Jaha, I want you with us. There are some decisions to be made." Bowie came up to them, and stopped for a moment, looking over Sarah. He chucked her lightly under the chin. "You should rest more, okay?"

"Okay," she said.

Chester had continued forward for a moment, but paused as Kazin held back, his eyes fixed on Bowie's back. Jaha hesitated, not sure which way to turn. Luke lighted on the ground, his head cocked at a curious angle. "Right," said Bowie. "Right." He turned from Sarah, and held out his hand. Luke grasped it with a talon. "Your task can't wait any longer." Luke nodded, his eyes keen and bright. There was a moment longer, and then the Prince of Bedoe stretched out his wings and took to the sky.

Jaha let out a small breath. He was always impressed when he had a chance to see a birdman on full display like that. "So," he said, slowly, glancing from one face to another.

Kazin had started off again, faster than any of them, his eyes just sliding over Sarah and Jaha. But it was his voice that floated back. "It's time to put ourselves on a proper war footing."

"I have achieved almost the impossible for you, my lord." The Green Baron allowed himself a satisfied smile. "Kronos's will bends." Lord Paul sat, his legs crossed, silent. At last Lord Zocc returned to him. Now the only question was one of price. "But perhaps I should ask after your health?"

"What," Lord Paul chuckled, "I find it hard to believe you've not had hourly reports on any potential change in my condition."

"Well… not hourly." The two lords shared a good laugh. Lord Paul sat back, his eyes studying the Green Baron. He was a little surprised to find how little rage he felt now, how indeed, he appreciated the good humor that Zocc had always possessed. But then it was easy to feel magnanimity when an enemy is brought to the end of the rope.

"Kronos's will," he said. "Well then, let us review that matter Lord Zocc. You made Lord Kronos who he is now, so why do you want his will to be bent?"

"You do me an injustice, Lord Chelsted. I swore to you once that I would support you, and that was an oath I have always meant to keep. But Granseal was never going to keep to its peace terms, and Lord Kronos is the man for a time of war." Lord Zocc shrugged, his shoulders careless. "A Lord Regent is not a king. The position is not permanent."

Lord Paul stared. An urge to hysterical laughter was building in his throat. He coughed instead. "You believe that Kronos will relinquish power willingly?"

"He won't have to, my way. He'll just have to share."

Lord Paul pondered for several moments in silence. He thought that he'd gamed out the Green Baron correctly, that indeed, Zocc's superfluous machinations were nearly at their end. But this was not easy to read. Had he misjudged the man yet again? Deliberately letting the subject dangle, Lord Paul changed tack. "Lord Odney is close to reconciled to me, largely I think, because he knows I was no position to influence the outcome of this battle people tell me that he's lost."

"Indeed?" Zocc shrugged another careless shrug. "What matters Odney?"

"Oh, it just occurs to me that Odney is frightened of you, Lord Zocc. Though I don't know whether or not he realizes that."

Zocc frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The battle, and I suspect you know more about what happened than I do, Odney believes was compromised on our side. Odney is terrified for his life, whether or not he's discovered anything meaningful. Kronos wouldn't sabotage the first command taken out under his name and I couldn't have done it… but you were the link that made this fight possible, weren't you? So if Odney has found anything…"

Zocc waved a dismissive hand. "Odney is an idiot. I reported what I knew of Bowie's encampment, aye, Kronos gave the order that battle should be joined. There is no more of this to be "discovered."" He rose, a trifle of impatience showing in his bearing. "And if we might return to more germane matters…"

Lord Paul smiled thinly. A shot in the dark, but not a very difficult one to guess. Would Lord Zocc take the bait? He hoped that was the meaning behind the impatience. "I'll see to it that Lord Odney knows he has nothing to fear from either of us."

"Thank you, I'm sure."

Lord Paul raised his voice. "Ricketts? Bring some refreshments for our guest." He stared at Lord Zocc who was starting to bounce in his seat. Ricketts bustled by, laden with a tray bearing some bread, cheese, olives and figs. Lord Paul picked up a fig and bit into it. "I apologize for the poor spread, but my health, as you so considerately asked after… Very well, Lord Zocc. I forgive your initial deception of my good faith." He pushed the tray further across the table. "Eat. Ricketts will bring a drink, should you desire one."

"No," Zocc shook his head. "Drinking is half of Kronos's statesmanship. Nobody needs that much."

Lord Paul smiled. "A pity, then, isn't it, that it's his statesmanship that counts? I didn't know, by the way, that Jarvos has gotten close to Kronos. Yet I hear he summoned you…"

"Think nothing of it, Lord Chelsted. Lord Jarvos goes to attend to our expansion to the north." Zocc's lips twitched and he plucked up an olive. "I wondered myself, but I think he merely wants a job he can't be blamed for."

Lord Paul nodded thoughtfully. "And Lord Kronos can give jobs. So. Kronos. What do you possibly mean when you suggest that there is room for that man and me to share authority?"

The Green Baron's eyes lit up. "Ah, this, my lord, you will be overjoyed to hear." Rocking back and forth, Zocc declared, "Lord Kronos will agree to wed his only child, Corinna, to you as wife should you ask the honor, personally."

Silence hung over them in that moment. Lord Paul Chelsted's mind cast itself back, Corinna, the daughter of his most obnoxious foe… A sweet-tempered, black-haired child, how old was she now? "The girl must be half my age. That's hardly good image."

"She's a woman, isn't she? And nobody will care about the girl, what the lords will take note of is that you and Kronos will agree to share your blood! The feud ends, and Kronos can eventually be prevailed upon to leave political matters more to your discretion." Zocc paused. "Mind you, I'm not saying she isn't old enough. Corinna is seventeen, comely considering her antecedents, and a means to grasp true prosperity for both yourself and Galam."

"Less than half my age," Lord Paul said mildly. He hadn't expected this. The Green Baron's case was true as far as it went, but… "Kronos told you he would agree? He meant it?"

"He wasn't enthusiastic either. Lord Chelsted, I beg you, make your peace with Kronos. Accept him as your good-father and he will honor you."

And I lose my way to move against him. Lord Paul sat there in silent thought for what seemed a long time. Zocc, Odney, Kronos… and now Corinna in this net as well. And Corinna meant Nikki… He felt a twinge, deep in his chest. What cost does a strong man fail to pay? "He won't change his mind?" Lord Paul asked at last.

Zocc truly smiled then. "I'll arrange for witnesses to be present."

Lord Paul nodded his head, reflectively stroking his chin. Yes, why not pay the Green Baron's price? Almost every other piece was in place, and this would clench matters, however bloody the coin. "What can I do but thank you, Lord Zocc? You have done even more than I asked."

Zocc nodded, rocking himself forward and back, always forward and back. "In that case, there's a small point. I haven't mentioned this to Kronos because he'd take it badly… but that lady friend of yours. I'd not visit her at all until at least after the marriage is publicly agreed. And if at any point you feel a need to do so, discretion will be called for." He paused. "I'm sorry about that; she is a very charming woman. I can have one of my men take any messages you require…"

Fog was threatening to cloud Lord Paul's heart. He felt disgust though whether more for Zocc or himself, he could not say. "Your kindness is astounding. But if in the future, I should need such a service, I would feel more comfortable if you would see to it personally. A woman of ill repute is at less danger when attended on by a lord."

Zocc didn't even hesitate. "Gladly, Lord Chelsted."

Oh gods, Lord Paul thought Nikki… He merely cleared his throat. "You'll drink to that, surely?"

"To the lady, to your nuptials, to the gods… and to us, Lord Paul!"

"Ricketts," Lord Paul Chelsted shouted.

He stood on a smooth glassy surface, almost as smooth as ice, but the footing did not slip. All around the two of them were enormous, cavernous stone walls glowing with light and intensity of some unholy substance pooled out in a lake far below the glassy surface.

Astral of Granseal leaned on his staff, a sheen of sweat covering his face. He peered wildly around. The devil kept teleporting away whenever Astral gathered a burst of power to strike at him, and then hammered him from all sides with increasingly powerful bursts of energy. Sir Astral for the first time thought he might have some true inkling of how easy it had been for Zeon's devils to possess King Galam.

"Wizard!" The mocking voice was above him this time, but Astral had learned by this point of the duel not to bother looking for the source. With alacrity he flung himself aside. There was rumble and energy deflected outward from all sides where the burst struck the glassy surface.

Energy ricocheted into his ankle and Astral went sliding across the surface. His hat fluttered off his head, falling over the edge down to the glimmering unholy lake. "Give me your face, wizard! Accept your fate!"

Astral snapped his fingers, summoning a gust of wind. It helped to push him to his feet and away from the edges, and, not coincidentally, away from another burst of energy. "My fate…" He breathed slowly, nearly winded. "My fate will destroy yours." Astral summoned his will, coiled his power, prepared himself to radiate incandescent light in all directions. It might be a futile gesture, but he had no intention of being beaten down to casting ever more petty, and hopeless, spells.

The voice laughed, and the form solidified a mere three feet in front of him. Once again, the strangely dressed devil stood there; hand on the ornate hilt of a flimsy sword, in a military uniform that looked more for show than anything. "Not even Shaita put up this good of a fight," the devil said with open admiration. The devil walked forward. "I no longer fear your worst, wizard. And neither should you mine."

Astral sucked in a startled breath, as he felt the devil's power suddenly uncoil, invisibly like a hand reaching straight into the center of his chest. Reflexively he released all the light energy he had. The cavern burned with light to the point of darkness and Astral fell back, feeling that strange hand on his heart.

The cavern rearranged itself around him by the time he opened his eyes, sometime later. Astral sat up, blinking. His chains were removed, but his throat was parched and he felt as weak as a kitten. Across the room from him sat the ratman, arms folded, watching. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I see," murmured the wizard. "So that's the meaning in all of it."

The shaman quickly detached himself from the wall and strode over, ragged robes flapping behind him. He offered a paw down to the exhausted wizard. "Come now," Shaita said, his voice relaxed. "You're one of us now. The third. And perhaps the last."

Astral seized the outstretched arm, pulled himself upright. And as his fingers slipped past Shaita's he felt that dark and mystical hand flex strangely against his heart. "Yes," he admitted, helpless. "Yes, I see now. It's all part of Lord Creed's plan."