Book 3 - A Path to Coldness of Heart Read Free

who declared for Inger falling apart because they haven’t gotten paid. And we can’t pay the men who stuck with us.”
“Troops on both sides are on partial pay donated by the wealthy. The Estates for Inger, the merchants of Sedlmayr and the west for us. Inger claims new money is coming from Itaskia. Our friends say Kavelin’s silver mines are pledged to us. Nobody has been asked to fight. Any showdown between men who fought side by side before will probably cause mass desertions.”
Sherilee proved she was not just a gorgeous face and damned fine everything else. “We can’t mine, refine, and mint enough silver to support production and an army, too.”
“When you get down to it, neither side can afford to pay soldiers who aren’t fighting for what they believe in.”
Kristen said, “So most of them will go home, whether or not they loved Bragi. We should find the treasury money.”
Haas said, “My love, the girl genius. One problem. Everybody who knew anything about it died in the riots after the King’s fall.”
“Except Michael Trebilcock. And maybe General Liakopulos.”
“Remote and remoter.”
“Meaning?”
“Liakopulos is dead. Probably murdered by the Itaskians. As for Michael, I don’t honestly believe he survived, either. But if he did he isn’t going to help us.”
Sherilee and Kristen glared. Haas thought that unfair. Such lovelies deserved to have nothing weightier than fashion on their minds.
Yet another way Kavelin distorted the natural order. Kavelin boasted strong women who made remarkable things happen.
    ...
    Dane, Duke of Greyfells, want-to-be lord of Kavelin, paced before a fireplace. His newly acquired headquarters was large, old, and draughty. It overlooked Damhorst, a key town on the east-west trade route through Kavelin. The castle was the ancestral home of the Breitbarth barons. Claimants to that title had been eliminated.
    Greyfells had taken the castle by stealth. He and his adventurers now enjoyed shelter, warmth, and security but seldom dared go out in bands of fewer than a dozen.
    The locals were mainly Wesson, ethnic cousins of the Itaskians. Politically, though, they favored the line of King Bragi through his first wife.
    Greyfells favored a succession through Ragnarson’s latest wife, his cousin Inger.
Dane of Greyfells was not happy. He had come to Kavelin expecting to put the kingdom in his pocket before winter. But winter was here, ferociously, and he was still far from Vorgreberg, hurrying the family decline toward destitution. His troops were melting away, mainly through desertion. Replacements, when he could find any, were untrained, unskilled, and belonged in cells rather than under arms.
His personal attendant announced, “Gales is here, Lordship.”
“About damned time. He was due yesterday.”
“He had trouble getting through. He’s wounded. So are those of his escort who survived.”
Though in a foul temper Greyfells did not yield to the unreason that, too often, left him unable to concede that events could, on occasion, disdain his wishes. He said only, “Clean him up, then bring him in.” He did not like dirty people. He loathed the sight of old blood.
“As you will, Your Lordship.”
The family sorcerer showed up.
“Babeltausque?”
“May I join you, Your Lordship?”
Dane scowled. Fat people were another dislike. Greyfells further disliked Babeltausque because he was expensive to maintain. He was the best paid of any Greyfells retainer, and the least useful, lately.
The Duke was convinced that Babeltausque was a coward and that he knew things he would not share with his employer.
Greyfells was incapable of understanding that he was what the sorcerer feared. Babeltausque withheld information he thought might spark the kind of rage that might lead to him getting hurt.
Greyfells asked, “You have a reason?”
“To collect information. I have trouble working in the dark.”
“You don’t work at all.”
“To work I must be given tasks. Plausible,