The Pracchia had used its hold on the man's son to turn him into an assassin.

I'm a survivor, Ragnarson told himself. I got through all that. I lifted myself up from nothing. I hammered out an era of peace. The people of this little wart on the map made me their King.

But the price! The damned price!

Not only had he lost a brother and friends, he had lost a wife and several children.

Everyone in that room had lost. Loss was one of the ties binding them. He brushed his eyes irritably, thinking he was too sentimental. „You all go on now. Keep me posted. Michael, wait up a minute."

People began to file out. Bragi stopped General Liakopulos briefly. „Should I send someone to the funeral?"

„It would be a mark of respect. Sir Tury was your champion in the Citadel."

„I will, then. He was a great man. I owe him."

„He had a special feeling for you and Kavelin."

Bragi watched his people go. Most had not spoken at all, except to exchange greetings. Was that a portent?

He had a bad, bad feeling down deep in his gut. He was headed for a season of changes. Fate was marshalling its forces. Dark clouds were piling beyond the horizon.

2

Year 1016 AFE; Conversations

„there goes a long-term problem in the making," Michael Trebilcock observed. „But you've got time to head it off."

„What?" the King asked.

„There were what? Twenty people here today? The insid­ ers who make Kavelin work. Hold up a hand. Count the natives. Gjerdrum. Mundwiller. Aral. Baron Hardle. That's all. Who wasn't here? The Queen. Prataxis. And Credence Abaca. That's one more native, and Abaca is only Marena Dimura."