Enchanter's End Game

he might want to take a leave of absence - perhaps go to Algaria and have a look at things?"
    "I'm certain that he'd be overjoyed at the idea of a vacation," Lord Morin agreed. "Garrison life in the summertime can be very tedious."
    "It's just a suggestion," the Emperor stressed. "His presence in the war zone would have to be strictly unofficial."
    "Naturally, your Majesty."
    "And if he just happened to make a few suggestions - or even provide a bit of leadership, we certainly wouldn't have any knowledge of it, would we? After all, what a private citizen does with his own time is his business, right?"
    "Absolutely, your Majesty."
    The Emperor grinned broadly. "And we'll all stick to that story, won't we, Morin?"
    "Like glue, your Majesty," Morin replied gravely..
    The crown prince of Drasnia burped noisily in his mother's ear, sighed, and promptly fell asleep on her shoulder. Queen Porenn smiled at him, tucked him back in his cradle, and turned again to the stringy-appearing man in nondescript clothing who sprawled in a nearby chair. The emaciated man was known only by the peculiar name "Javelin." Javelin was the chief of the Drasnian intelligence service and one of Porenn's closest advisers.
    "Anyway," he continued his report, "the Tolnedran girl's army is about two days' march from the Stronghold. The engineers are moving along ahead of schedule with the hoists on top of the escarpment, and the Chereks are preparing to begin the portage from the east bank of the Aldur."
    "Everything seems to be going according to plan, then," the queen said, resuming her seat at the polished table near the window.
    "There's a bit of trouble in Arendia," Javelin noted. "The usual ambushes and bickerings - nothing really serious. Queen Layla's got the Tolnedran, Bravor, so completely off balance that he might as well not even be in Sendaria." He scratched at his long, pointed jaw. "There's peculiar information coming out of Sthiss Tor. The Murgos are trying to negotiate something, but their emissaries keep dying. We'll try to get somebody closer to Sadi to find out exactly what's going on. Let's see - what else? Oh, the Honeths have finally united behind one candidate-a pompous, arrogant jackass who's offended just about everybody in Tol Honeth. They'll try to buy the crown for him, but he'd be hopelessly incompetent as emperor. Even with all their money, it's going to be difficult for them to put him on the throne. I guess that's about all, your Highness."
    "I've had a letter from Islena in Val Alorn," Queen Porenn told him.
    "Yes, your Highness," Javelin replied urbanely, "I know."
    "Javelin, have you been reading my mail again?" she demanded with a sudden flash of irritation.
    "Just trying to stay current with what's going on in the world, Porenn."
    "I've told you to stop that."
    "You didn't really expect me to do it, did you?" He seemed actually surprised.
    She laughed. "You're impossible."
    "Of course I am. I'm supposed to be."
    "Can we get any help to Islena?"
    "I'll put some people on it," he assured her. "We can probably work through Merel, the wife of the Earl of Trellheim. She's starting to show some signs of maturity and she's close to Islena."
    "I think we'd better have a close look at our own intelligence service, too," Porenn suggested. "Let's pin down everyone who might have any connections with the Bear-cult. The time might come when we'll have to take steps."
    Javelin nodded his agreement.
    There was a light tapping at the door.
    "Yes?" Porenn answered.
    The door opened and a servant thrust his head into the room. "Excuse me, your Highness," he said, "but there's a Nadrak merchant here - a man named Yarblek. He says he wants to discuss the salmon run." The servant looked perplexed.
    Queen Porenn straightened in her chair. "Send him in," she ordered, "at once."

Chapter Nine
    THE SPEECHES WERE over. The orations that had caused Princess Ce'Nedra such agony had done their work, and she found herself less and less in the center of things. At first the days opened before her full of glorious freedom. The dreadful anxiety that had filled her at the prospect of addressing vast crowds of men two or three times a day was gone now. Her nervous exhaustion disappeared, and she no longer awoke in the middle of the night trembling and terrified. For almost an entire week she reveled in it, luxuriated in it. Then, of course, she became dreadfully bored.
    The army she had gathered in Arendia and northern Tolnedra moved like a great