“She didn’t let me go,” Hal said.
Or had she?
I’m no good at this, he thought. Words are not my weapons of choice. Nobody in her right mind would choose me as an emissary.
“If this was staged for my benefit, the queen went to a lot of trouble,” Hal said. “After the battle, the entire harbor was crowded with ships flying the empress’s siren banner. They were offloading soldiers and weapons and supplies. A huge army. I saw that with my own eyes.”
“Could it have been conjury of some kind?”
“It was not conjury. I spoke afterwards to some who were in the battle, and interrogated one of the Carthian fighters.”
“How did you come to interrogate—?”
“I took a mount from the Carthian horse-line,” Hal said. “I questioned one of their sentries before I killed him.”
“So they are killable?”
Hal nodded. “They are. But it’s not easy. I ran one of them through and he kept right on fighting. The only thing that brought him down was cutting off his head.”
His father studied him. “You’re a good soldier, Son, and a savvy officer, possibly the best in the empire, but you are no politician. Apparently I did not pass on the gene for connivery and subterfuge. Always look for the simplest explanation. If what you’re saying is true, that the Fells is under attack by a Carthian army—”
“Why would Hal lie about that?” Robert put in, then subsided under his father’s withering gaze.
“—the most likely explanation is that either Gerard or Jarat struck a deal with this Celestine,” Matelon went on. “While she sends her armies into the north, it frees Jarat to come after us. Even if there is no collusion between them, he will move against us when word reaches him that the wolf queen is otherwise occupied. So. It behooves us to march on the capital sooner rather than later.”
“That’s just what we shouldn’t do,” Hal said. “While we’re fighting among ourselves, Celestine will be winning territory in the north. Sooner or later she will turn south.”
“And by the time she does, we’ll have united the empire and can contend with her.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looked at Hal, then away. “Has it occurred to you that the witch in the north has—” He paused, as if reluctant to speak the words. “—has bewitched you?”
“No!” Hal said, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I am not bewitched. I know what I saw.”
“Look, I don’t know what was done to you while you were held captive in the north,” his father said. “I have no knowledge or understanding of sorcery. I leave those matters to the church.” He brightened. “It might do you good to speak with the chaplain. Father Menard is with us, and he might have some insights as to—”
“No,” Hal said. “I don’t want to talk to Menard. I don’t need an exorcism. I need an army.” He tried to quash the doubt that welled up from deep inside him. Could it have been an elaborate ruse, put on for his benefit? Had he been played?
If it had been a ruse, it was a drama worthy of any stage in Tamron, complete with a cast of thousands.
“I can’t give you an army, Hal,” his father said. “I will need every sword I have.”
“Are you really going to march on the capital when the king is holding your wife and daughter hostage?” Without meaning to, Hal had raised his voice.
“Is that what this is about?” Matelon drained his cup and slammed it down. “You know I do not negotiate with hostage-takers. We did send a message to Ardenscourt after Gerard died, demanding that Jarat release the hostages straightaway as a gesture of good faith. He countered with a demand that we surrender to the king’s justice.”
If he offered justice, that would be a first in that family, Hal thought. “Has there been any word about the whereabouts of those he’s holding?”
“They are somewhere in the capital, I presume,” his father said sourly. “The king would want to keep them close. He assumes that we won’t attack as long as he holds that card. And that means he has no incentive to make concessions.” Matelon gave Hal a long, measured look. “Frankly, we are not interested in a peace that maintains the status quo. Why should we reward the son for his father’s bad behavior? There is not a thane in the empire who hasn’t suffered massive losses of land, men, and money under Gerard. If we submit to Jarat, he comes away with everything Gerard has stolen from us, and we’ll go to the block. The thanes don’t agree on much, but we are in agreement on this point—we must negotiate from strength, not as supplicants. So. As things stand, there is no avoiding a fight. If we are going to make our move, this is the time to do it, when he is at his weakest. Why wait until he’s found his footing? As for our families, any harm that comes to them will be repaid in kind.”
“But . . . that won’t bring Harper or Mother back,” Robert said.
Their father squeezed Robert’s shoulder. “We are men, Robert,” he said. “Sometimes men have to make hard decisions.”
Robert twisted away from Matelon’s hand. “If the hostages were freed, wouldn’t King Jarat be more likely to negotiate?”
“No doubt,” their father said, with a hoarse laugh. “Jarat has an army, but armies need feeding whether they are fighting or not. He has no money and no territory north of the capital. If the savages in Bruinswallow and We’enhaven sense weakness on his part, they’ll be pressing in at the borders. Right now, I’d rather be us than him.”
“Well, I don’t want to be us!” Robert shouted. “I don’t want to be us at all. If the king won’t let our families go, we need to free them ourselves.”
