“Aye,” Hal said. “They did. The northerners never had a chance. The town is in ruins, everyone in it slain or carried off as slaves, unless some were able to escape to the west.”
“And yet you got away?”
“During the confusion, I was able to escape by boat through the water gate with some others.”
“They didn’t have you locked up?” Suspicion glittered in Karn’s eyes once again.
“They did, but when it was clear that the city would fall, they let me go. They had no interest in offending a member of the Thane Council. They know they need allies.”
Hal waited for Karn to interrupt again, but the spymaster said nothing, only scowled and tapped his fingers on the window ledge.
“So. As I was saying. After the city fell, they began unloading horses and equipment and wagons. Ships were coming and going like buzzards to a corpse. It wasn’t a hit-and-run for plunder. It looks like they intend to stay and conquer the Fells—maybe the entire empire.”
Now Karn rose and began pacing back and forth. “Why would she attack Chalk Cliffs?” he murmured. “That doesn’t make any sense.” It seemed as if the spymaster was having a conversation with himself, with Hal and Robert as onlookers.
Hal had expected skepticism, dismissiveness, and doubt. He had not expected this immediate recognition of the danger posed by the invaders from across the Indio.
Well. He is a spymaster, after all. It is his job to know things that others don’t.
“Rumor has it that the empress has made an agreement with Arden,” Hal said. “Her armies attack in the north, freeing Jarat’s armies to subdue the thanes.”
Karn shook his head briskly. “Gerard was trying to form an alliance with the empress, but it fell through. There was no agreement.”
“Are you sure?”
Now Karn stopped, and turned, folding his arms. “I am sure,” he said flatly. “I would know.”
“You missed the attack on Chalk Cliffs,” Hal said.
Karn’s scowl transitioned to a rueful smile. “I did.”
“There was another prisoner who escaped with me,” Hal said. “He claimed that the empress attacked the city because she was after him.”
“She was after him?” Karn went still. “Who was this prisoner? What was his name?”
“He called himself Breon d’Tarvos,” Hal said.
“Tarvos?” Karn gripped the front of Hal’s shirt, pulling him closer so they were eye to eye. “What did he look like?”
Why was the spymaster so agitated?
“He was maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, with red-gold hair. He said he was a street musician. A busker.”
“Red-gold hair.” Karn released his hold on Hal’s shirt. His expression mingled relief and dread, which Hal would have thought was impossible. “Did he explain why he thought the empress was after him?”
Had the busker ever explained? Hal recalled what Talbot had said. When he saw that ship coming, he was terrified. I’d stake my life on it. When he told us to get out of the boat, he was trying to save the rest of us. He shook his head. “He never said, but it was clear that he was scared to death.”
“Was this busker a mage? Was there anything magical about him?”
Hal shook his head, knowing these questions were springing from some private knowledge that the spymaster had. “Bear in mind that I can’t see magic on a person, and I didn’t spend much time with him.”
The wheels were turning behind those shadowed eyes. “Where is he now, this busker?”
Hal shook his head. “I don’t know for sure, but we believe the empress took him aboard her ship and is sailing back home.” Hal paused, waiting for more questions, but Karn said nothing, only stared down at his hands, a muscle working in his jaw. Finally, he spoke.
“Can they do it, do you think?”
“Can who do what?”
“Can the empress’s forces conquer the empire?”
Hal shrugged. “I’ve never seen fighters like these—fearless, fast, strong, completely unafraid of death.”
Now Karn finally looked up. “Can they do it?” he repeated, an edge to his voice. “I want to know what you think, Captain.”
“I suppose it depends on how many more soldiers she can bring to the fight.”
“Let’s assume that her resources are . . . limitless,” Karn said, with a sour smile.
“Then she will almost certainly win, if we remain fractured as we are. For twenty-five years, my father did everything in his power to prevent another civil war. He always said that was a war where everyone loses. Now we’re looking at another civil war in Arden, and we’re still at war with the Fells. Our coffers are empty and we have sacrificed an entire generation of young men that we sorely need now. We should have spent this time consolidating our hold on the down-realms, building roads and demonstrating to them the advantages of being part of the empire. Instead, we’ve been pouring treasure into this useless war. The down-realms have been on their own for so long that many of them have forgotten that they answer to us. Who could blame them if they decided to cast their lots with Celestine?”
Hal caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye—Robert shifting from foot to foot, reacting to the longest speech he’d likely ever hear his brother make.
“My opinion?” Hal went on. “If we cannot end this war with the north and join together against the empress, she will come for us, she will win, and we will deserve it.”
Karn nodded, and Hal got the impression that the spymaster agreed with his assessment.
“I know you are interrogating me,” Hal said, “but I have a question for you.”
“You’re wondering if King Jarat would be open to making peace with the thanes for the common good.” Karn raised an eyebrow. “Right?”
“Right,” Hal said.
Karn studied him, as if deciding whether he should give back a measure of information in return for Hal’s. “Our new king is moody and unpredictable, but I think I’m safe in saying that the only way Jarat will make peace with the thanes is on his terms.
