Michael had genius and energy but could not be broken to harness completely. The espionage service had become too much his fiefdom. But he was very good, very useful. And he had a knack for making friends everywhere. They kept him posted. Through Dantiee he used Kavelin's traders to gather more intelligence.

The King scanned the group through narrowed eyes. „You're a moody bunch today." No response. „All right. Be that way. If you're not going to talk to me there's nothing else till Derel gets home. Meantime, think about what's happening over there. Check your contacts. We have to hammer out a policy. Gjerdrum. If you think you really need to keep an eye on Credence Abaca go back to Karls­ bad. Just be back here when Prataxis gets in. Yes? General Liakopulos?"

The general was on permanent loan from the mercenary's guild, helping improve Kavelin's army.

„Not to the point of the meeting, Sire, but important. I've had bad news from High Crag. Sir Tury is dying."

„That is sad news. But... He was an old man during the El Murid Wars." Musingly, „I first met him the night we broke out of Simballawein. Gods. Was I only sixteen?..."

He drifted away on a memory-cloud. Sixteen. A refugee from Trolledyngja, where a war of succession had devas­ tated his family. He and his brother, with nowhere else to go, had enlisted in the Guild and almost immediately had been thrown into the boiling cauldron of the El Murid Wars. They had been dumb kids then, he and Haaken, but they had earned names for themselves. So had their friends Reskird Killdragon, Haroun, and the funny little fat man, Mocker.

He turned his back on the company. Tears had come to his eyes. They were gone now, those four, and so many more with them. Reskird and his brother had fallen at Palmisano. Haroun had vanished in the east. Mocker... . Bragi had slain his best friend himself.