He thought back to the crew of mercenaries he d led and then abandoned outside Hinerion. Had to stop a smile crossing his lips. The naval engineer, for all his apparent wisdom in other areas, clearly didn t have the faintest fucking idea about men of war.
Soldiers come in all shapes and sizes, my lord Shanta. And here came the smile anyway, leaking out. I ve ridden my share of ill-disciplined bastards, and lived to tell the tale. Your gentry will be safe in my shadow.
It s the gentry that worry me, Gil. Archeth shot him an admonishing don t-get-cute look. Men like Shendanak and Kaptal you can bring to heel they understand force of will, they understand leadership. It s a little harder getting past six centuries of selective breeding and entitlement.
Well. Ringil rolled out a remarkable impression of courtly hauteur. I would remind you, my lady, I have noble roots myself.
This time Mahmal Shanta did chuckle. I don t doubt it, my lord. But I m afraid nobility from the north will not be counted here in the same coin as imperial title.
On my mother s side Ringil, staying in affronted noble character I trace a direct line of descent back to the very noblest of this Empire s, ehm, refugees.
It got him an unexpected silence.
Shanta glanced at Archeth. She shrugged. True enough. Driven out in the Ashnal schism, apparently. A lot were.
Yes. Yes, I I thought The naval engineer turned to fix Ringil with a fascinated eye. Something in your face the cheekbones, the arch of nose yes, it must be that, of course. Of course. And that skin tone perfect!
Ringil gave him a thin smile. It was all a little too close to slave-auction appraisal for his liking. But he caught Archeth s tiny shake of the head, and he tried his best to keep the steel out of his voice.
I m happy you approve, my lord. Given, then, that my face fits so well, perhaps I will not need to break the faces of these other nobles to get their support.
Oh, no question, chortled Shanta, rubbing his age-knobbed hands as if with soap and water. He didn t seem to have spotted the sudden edge in Ringil s tone. Have no fear, my lord Eskiath we ll manufacture some very fine cloth from this, some very fine cloth indeed. Whole dynasties were torn down in the Ashnal years. We can load your veins with as much Yhelteth nobility as we like. You ll see. We ll have Gral and Nyanar down on bended knee before we re done.
Ringil traded looks with Archeth. He cracked a smile, a genuine one this time. Impossible, somehow, not to get caught up in the older man s enthusiasm.
Glad to hear it. So when do you want me to meet these gracious gentlemen and lady?
Shanta pondered. Better that we postpone your introduction somewhat. I d like to think seriously about what lineage we attribute to you before we leap into the fray.
Yeah, and your Tethanne could use some polish, said Archeth unkindly.
At the same time, I don t believe we should delay our preliminary meetings. There is currently a lull in the Demlarashan insurgency, the northern marches remain stable, at least for now, and in the east our relations with Shaktur are cordial. But all or any of this may change, and sooner than any of us expect. Your Helmsman has chosen an auspicious moment to arrive, Archeth, and I think we must seize that moment while it lasts.
Then we ll need Rakan, at least initially.
Ringil blinked. Rakan?
I suspect, Shanta mused, that you will need Rakan throughout, regardless of our friend here. The Throne Eternal represent the Emperor, in symbol and in fact. They are his sworn men. I don t see His Radiance taking kindly to them being excluded.
I m his sworn representative, too.
Hmm.
Ringil caught the undercurrent. Something in the air between these two that they hadn t bothered to share with him yet. He cleared his throat.
This Rakan. Any relation of old Faileh?
Archeth nodded absently. His younger brother. Seconded when the elder died. He s supposed to have the command, but Mahmal doesn t think he s up to it.
He isn t, said Shanta gloomily.
Yes, well, if that s so, Mahmal, I don t really see how we can proceed. Archeth, working on quite exasperated actually. Ringil thought he caught the scraping edge of no krin today in her tone. We re going to have a fucking mess on our hands, trying to get this early start you want.
It s a price we ll just have to
Yeah, a higher price than you
Archeth, it s worth the
It s a fucking mist
Ringil cleared his throat, loudly. They both shut up and looked at him. He tried out the thin smile again. Couldn t hurt to practice a little ahead of time.
It s perfect, he told them. That s what it is. Perfect.
CHAPTER 30
They paid off the boatman at Prophet s Landing. Puddles of bandlight on the river s skin, and the drip- dribble of water from the shipped oars. The clink and dull gleam of coins counted out into a callused palm. Payment stowed, the boatman shoved off immediately and without a word he was still sulking by the look of it. They watched the darkness on the river swallow him up, then went carefully up the green-grown slimy stone steps of the landing. At the top, the merchant quarter brooded in deserted early-hours gloom shut-up shops and warehouses, auction halls and stabling, the odd glimmer of a watchman s lantern here and there, but otherwise no sign of life. They slipped into the warren of darkened streets and away.
There had been no pursuit.
None you saw, anyway.
Egar said nothing to the others, but still, he could feel the vague snake of worry turn over in his guts. A year ago at Ennishmin, they d run from the dwenda and he d seen the pursuing scouts glimmer into ghostly blue-lit life on the banks of the river, watching him in silence as he passed. He spent most of the journey downstream from Afa marag looking out for the same thing, but he saw no recognizable sign. Whether that meant they were in the clear, he had no idea.
He caught himself wishing Ringil were there. He missed the faggot s sour, selfish introspection and book- learned wit.
Gil would have known what to make of all this.
He shook it off. Come on, Dragonbane. Bad enough you let Imrana do most of your thinking for you these days. Now you need a fucking faggot at the task?
Be asking him to fucking tug you off next.
He made the effort. If Pashla Menkarak was treating with dwenda under the impression he was in holy communion with angels, Egar was almost tempted to let the whole thing run its natural course. He d pay hard coin to see Menkarak s face when the angels shrugged off whatever glamour they d cast and stepped forward for what they were. Maybe they d stalk the corridors of the Citadel and tear every fucking invigilator within its walls limb from limb. Maybe they d put every priestly head on a tree stump still living, the way they d done with the victims at Ennishmin.
(Still gave him the odd nightmare what he d seen done in that swamp.)
Be hard to feel bad about an outcome like that, though. Certainly, it d get the Citadel off Archeth s back.
They found a tavern still open, weak gutter of candles melted down in their own wax along the trestle tables, clientele down to a few drowsy drunks and a couple of whores counting up the night s takings with their pimp in a corner. Harath went to get mugs of spiced wine at the bar, while Egar sat at an empty table opposite the girl and gazed at her like a problem he had to solve.
