Then tell me: Why do you speak in his place?
“While he would accept your help, he would not accept its price. As a priestess in your service, half of the debt would be mine. And that is why he would not accept it—if he knew.”
I understand. He will be angry with you for deceiving him.
“It doesn’t matter. Should the tribe be faced with war—”
The tribe will indeed go to war. I have foreseen it.
“Foreseen it? Or helped cause it?”
You forget your place, priestess.
“Forgive me. I spoke before I thought. War is inevitable then?”
Yes.
“How soon?”
Soon.
“Weeks? Days?”
What is the difference? Soon.
“What must I do?”
When the time is right, you must bring Qarakh to me. I shall aid him—if he ultimately accepts the cost of my help.
“Tell me—if we do this, will Qarakh prevail over his enemy?”
That all depends on which enemy you mean.
“While I am glad to hear that you have decided to abandon your plan to form an alliance with the pagans, I would be remiss in my duties if I failed to point out that this might not be the most advantageous time to attack the Mongol’s camp.”
Alexander was seated at his desk while Brother Rudiger stood at attention. Alexander looked at the knight as he contemplated the best way to slay him. Beheading would be swift and efficient, but given the man’s fear of fire—which was intense even for a Cainite—burning at the stake might be more appropriate… not to mention more amusing.
“Your highness?”
Alexander sighed. “And what, Rudiger, makes you say this?” He hadn’t had a headache in two thousand years, but he felt as if he were going to get one now.
“Qarakh and the pagan priestess have both seen our camp. And you can be assured the Mongol kept his eyes and ears open the entire time he was here. Worse yet, Malachite left with them when they departed. Go d only knows how much more the Nosferatu has told them about our military strength.”
Alexander felt like shouting. There is no God—there is only us, you simpleminded idiot! “Go on.”
“We have lost the element of surprise. The pagans now expect us to attack.”
“Qarakh and his people are likely still debating the merits of entering into an alliance with us.” With me, he meant.
“Perhaps,” Rudiger allowed. “But even if they are, they would be complete fools not to consider the possibility of our attacking. They may be beasts, but they still possess animalistic cunning.”
“What are you telling me? That we should not attack the Mongol’s tribe?”
“I am saying that we should wait for a more propitious moment. If the Mongol does choose to accept your offer of alliance—not realizing that it’s been rescinded—you can allow him to believe that you will indeed join forces with him, and then, when his guard is down, we shall seize the opportunity to attack.”
Alexander felt something very nearly like admiration for the knight. “Why Rudiger! I didn’t know you had such a streak of deviousness in you!”
The Black Cross commander’s mouth twitched, and Alexander knew he was fighting to keep from grimacing in disdain.
“It is merely a matter of practicality,” he said stiffly. “Recent events”—he didn’t say your decisions, highness, though Alexander was certain he thought it—”leave us with few remaining options.”
“Practicality, eh? I suppose next you’ll tell me that God helps those who help themselves. Never mind, don’t answer. Though I understand your concerns, I do not share them. I have reached the conclusion that Qarakh’s tribe and the Telyavs are not suitable allies.” Meaning they were of no use to him. “Thus, as pagans, they must be destroyed for the greater glory of God, and the sooner, the better. The people of the land have worshipped false gods long enough.” He paused. “Unless you think God is in no particular hurry to see the people of Livonia brought into his fold….”
Rudiger replied through clenched teeth. “Of course not, your highness.”
“Then go inform your knights that we shall begin our march on Qarakh’s campsite come the next sunset and begin making preparations.”
Rudiger inclined his head. “As you will.”
Which is precisely what you should have said in the first place. “You may take your leave of me.”
A small puff of breath passed through Rudiger’s lips. Even with his sensitive Cainite hearing, Alexander couldn’t make it out, but it sounded as if the commander had whispered, “With pleasure.”
Before Alexander could demand Rudiger repeat himself more loudly, the knight turned and departed the tent.
The audacity of the man! Not only did he question his orders—albeit in a less than direct manner—but he had the gall to whisper a comment like that before scampering off. He was a child who had worked up the courage to say a naughty word in front of his father, said it, then fled, his meager supply of bravery spent. Many men—Cainite, ghoul and mortal—had died for delivering lesser insults to Alexander of Paris.
The prince nearly stood and followed after the knight, intending to tear off the German bastard’s head with his bare hands and drink deep from the fountain of vitae that gushed forth from the ragged stump. But he remained seated.
Like it or not (and he most definitely did not), Alexander had need of Brother Rudiger. The other knights would turn on him en masse if he slew their commander. Alexander was almost unimaginably strong for a Cainite, but even he didn’t relish the though of facing dozens of enraged and self-righteous Teutonic Knights all at once. Their wills would break, of course, but then he would be left with doe-eyed automatons with which to wage his wars.
So let Rudiger have his trifling moment of rebellion. Alexander would do the same with him as he did with everyone else. He would continue to use the knight for as long as necessary, and then when he was no longer needed, Alexander would dispose of him. All he had to do was, as Rudiger had phrased it, wait for a more propitious
