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"Oh, yes, I'm sure he does. In fact, I'm sure I know what he would say to me right now if he were in this room and I asked him the question directly. He'd say that he sent Dr. Nichols away because the doctor himself said there was not much more he could do, now that he'd saved the king from the infection in his body. And so—being as he is such an important physician—it would really be best if he returned to Magdeburg, since everyone knows Magdeburg is becoming the great center of medicine in the Germanies. It might even have surpassed Grantville and Jena, by now."

"Well . . . doesn't that makes sense? It sounds like it does."

"In and of itself, yes. But it simply raises the next question, which is—"

Caroline interrupted. There was real anger in her voice.

"Which is why the hell didn't James Nichols take your father back to Magdeburg with him? So what if there's not much more that can be done for him? ‘Not much' isn't the same thing as ‘nothing,' and whatever can be done for your daddy can be done a lot better in Magdeburg than it can in Berlin."

So. Platzer had come to the same dark conclusion as Ulrik had. Axel Oxenstierna would not kill his own king. But he was willing to risk letting him die, wasn't he?

Still, Kristina soldiered on. Ulrik was very proud of her.

"But . . . maybe the travel would be too hard on Papa."

Ulrik shook his head. "I'm sure that's what the chancellor would say. But it's simply not true."

Baldur finally gave up the softball act. "To put it mildly!" he said, in a caustic tone. It sounded so much more like him, too, it really did.

He'd been leaning against a nearby wall. Now, he levered himself away from it with a little heave of his shoulders and took two steps toward Kristina. "They hauled your father in a horse-litter across western Poland and Brandenburg—which is to say, along cow trails—for five and a half days, didn't they? And he survived, didn't he? Don't let anybody ever tell you otherwise, girl. King or not, emperor or not, your Papa is as tough as men come."

Kristina looked pleased, as well she might. Baldur Norddahl passed out praise the way a miser passes out coins to the needy.

The Norwegian shook his head. "It's all crap. You've ridden in a plane."

"Yes, it's wonderful!"

Baldur smiled. "Probably not so wonderful if you're badly injured. Still, if the pilot is being careful, the ride won't be any rougher than a trip in a horse-litter."

He raised a finger. "But with one great difference! It took Stearns almost six days to get your Papa to Berlin. How long would it take to fly him from Berlin to Magdeburg?"

The princess frowned. "Well, I've flown from Luebeck to Magdeburg. And that's even farther, isn't it?"

"A lot farther," Ulrik said. "Berlin is less than a hundred miles from Magdeburg. The truth is, Kristina, there are several ways your father could be brought to Magdeburg, where he'd be able to get the best medical care available in the world. An airplane would be the fastest, but it's not actually the one I'd propose. Speed isn't critical any longer."

"Barge," said Baldur. "The Havel river runs right by Berlin. It's navigable—for a shallow barge, but it doesn't need to have much of a draft for this purpose—and it will take you down to the Elbe. The Havel enters the Elbe near Werben. Then you'd transfer him onto one of the newer and bigger powered barges and bring him up the Elbe to the Magdeburg."

"It's a roundabout route," said Ulrik. "Still, it can't be more than three hundred miles all told. Three hundred miles on river barges which could be prepared beforehand for the trip would take far less time than the trip your father already took to Berlin. And be far more comfortable and easier on him."

"I'd rather be on a well-made river barge," added Baldur, "than be stuck in Berlin."

Kristina's jaws got tight. "I'm getting mad now."

"As well you should," Ulrik said.

"So what should we do?" she asked. "We can't stay here. Uncle Axel's word is law here. It really is. I never liked Stockholm anyway. Should we go to Copenhagen?"

Caroline Platzer looked alarmed, until