The council slowly dispersed. Sirion hurried away back to his tower. Usually Zafir did the same, spurning Jehal's company, but today she lingered. Jehal counted the glances that turned to watch her. Tyrin, her cousin Sakabian, even Prince Tichane. I was hardly even away, and they're all sniffing after her like she's a bitch in heat.
'Walk with me,' she said and offered him her arm. She led him outside into the open air. Scorpions and Adamantine Guardsmen packed the palace walls and towers, and a dozen dragons circled overhead on permanent overwatch. Most of the damage from the Red Riders' attack had been cleared away but the Speaker's Tower still bore the scars; the lower floors, including the Chamber of Audience, were still being gutted. Zafir had drafted in almost every craftsman from the City of Dragons in an attempt to repair it in time for the trial.
'No more hirelings, eh? I warned you that these Red Riders might grow into something you couldn't control,' said Jehal.
'They're no great threat now. They made a terrible noise and a mess, but they have become rash. This must have cost them a third of their number and I have all my dragons back and more. But it's true that they've made me look foolish in front of the council. I've had enough of them. I want them gone.' She turned to look at him. 'And on the subject of my council, I don't recall inviting you, Prince Jehal. I seem to remember inviting kings and queens.' 'You sound like Jeiros.'
'And you should have stayed at home, playing with your starling. How is she? Still showing off her pretty plumage?' 'Not as pretty as yours, Zafir.'
She slipped him an arch look. 'Oh, is that why you came back?' 'Of course. Why else?'
'Then I can't help but wonder why you left in the first place. Although I did hear a rumour that someone died.'
'I might have mentioned it, yes. I seem to have become a king since last we met.'
Zafir laughed, a pretty tinkle of breaking crystal. 'You're not a king until I say you are.'
Jehal pointed over to the Glass Cathedral. 'Then say I am.'
She smiled. 'I thought you'd return. I was expecting to hear that someone had died too. In fact I had a quite particular expectation in that regard. I am sad and disappointed to learn of your father's passing. Very sadly disappointed. Were there any witnesses? Should I put you on trial as well? Or were you extremely careful?'
Sometimes, Jehal thought, life would be much simpler if he gave in to the urge to wrap his hands around her delicate little throat and squeeze until she shut up. 'King Tyan passed away peacefully, I think you will find. Now Furymouth requires a king, and thus I require a crown.'
'After the council, Jehal. Not before.'
Jehal pursed his lips. He nodded slowly. 'You're going to call for Shezira's head then.'
'And you're going to try to stop me from getting it.'
'Why yes, Your Holiness. Having no particular desire to see the realms ripped to pieces by war, I do think I might. Since I will doubtless succeed, you might be inclined to show some of that magnanimity I was mentioning and avoid making a fool of yourself in front of your kings and queens. Of all people, I should be your ally, Zafir. Furymouth and the Pinnacles have always stood side by side.
Even in the War of Thorns, there were as many knights from the Harvest Realm who fought with Vishmir as fought against him. Besides, what are all these northerners except blood-mage spawn.'
Zafir pursed her lips. 'History, Jehal? Here is some history for you. The Pinnacles are the heart of the realms. The Silver King came to us there. He tamed the dragons there. The blood-mages ruled from there. The Order of the Scales ruled from there. Even after Narammed built the Adamantine Palace and the City of Dragons, we were the heart of everything. For most of those centuries, Furymouth was mud and huts.'
Jehal shrugged. 'And yet look at us now. You keep your history and I'll keep my wealth. We both have plenty enough dragons though.'
She sniffed. 'You want me to let Shezira go?' 'Yes.'
'Let suspicion hang over her? Leave the world to wonder? Did Hyram fall or was he pushed?' 'I see you remember.' 'My answer is no.'
Jehal grinned and bared his teeth. 'Then I look forward to humbling you at your council.'
'You will not be there, Prince.' 'Nevertheless.'
Zafir stopped. She turned to face him, looking up with wide earnest eyes. 'Are you going to be my enemy now, Jehal?'
Jehal put the palm of one hand against the side of her neck, the age-old gesture of brotherhood. 'I am your best and truest friend, my lover. You will know your enemies at your council, for they will be the ones who shout and bellow their support when you call on them to hang Queen Shezira.'
She took a step away, withdrawing from his hand, and slowly shook her head. 'No. My enemies will be the ones who oppose my will. And I will not forgive, Prince Jehal. Whoever they turn out to be.'
17
Vale Tassan watched as the last scorpion was hoisted into place. The Adamantine Palace bristled with them now. He sighed the long satisfied sigh of someone who'd got exactly what he wanted. The Red Riders were enemies of the realms and now at last the speaker had set her mind to crushing them. Dragons were moving up from the eyries in the south and combing the Purple Spur. The Adamantine Men had been unleashed from their barracks. Some had been dispatched to join the dragon-riders in their search, but the large part remained to guard the City of Dragons and the speaker's palace. He'd got all the weapons he'd asked for. No dragon would get close enough to burn the Speaker's Tower for a second time. If they did, that would mean his head.
Seventy-four days since Head Priest Aruch had handed Zafir the Adamantine Spear. Seventy-four days gone in a flash. The last Night Watchman to go to war had served mad old Anzuine in the War of Thorns and died fighting Vishmir's dragons. Dying didn't bother Vale though. What bothered him was that three dragons had flown straight through his defences, meagre as they were, and burned the speaker's palace. He couldn't blame that on Zafir, not all of it. There had been fifty scorpions on the walls when the Red Riders had come. Now fifty Adamantine Men had been executed and fed to the speaker's dragons. One for each crew that had missed. Good men all. How could they all have failed? How could we have been so lax when it is our duty to be vigilant?
Not being ready. That was what kept Vale awake at nights.
'Satisfied with your handiwork?' asked a voice behind him.
'Prince Jehal.' Vale turned around, dropped to his knees and bowed. 'Yes, Your Highness. Most satisfied.' He kept his head down, eyes to the ground. The Adamantine Men, even their commanders, were mere servants after all. Servants to the dragon kings and queens, princes and lords. Sometimes being lowly and small could have its advantages.
'You can get up, you know. I'm not Zafir.'
'As you command, Your Highness.' He rose slowly, his eyes fixed on Jehal's feet. What does he want? Nothing good. Nothing good ever came from the Viper.
'Tell me, Night Watchman, what did you think of the council this morning?'
Vale slowly shook his head. 'I have no opinion to offer, Your Highness. I exist only to serve.'
'You might try that on Zafir and get away with it, but not with me. Speaker Hyram, unless I am misinformed, once valued your advice.'
Vale stayed silent. Silence was always the safest defence. Words only made trouble. Especially with this one. 'Well? Did he or did he not?'
Vale shrugged. 'I cannot say, Your Highness. Only our late lord may say as to the value he found in what few words I had to offer. And he is dead.' Dead because of me. My fault.
'So he is. You served him for a long time. Why do you suppose he turned his back on Shezira?'
'Again I have no opinion to offer, Your Highness.' Because of you. You and your potions and your stepfather. Because of Zafir and because, in the end, he was weak like all men are weak when they grow old. He will not be making such a mistake again. He frowned. He would have to watch those thoughts lest they turned from thoughts into words and then to actions, and before you knew where you were, it would be him throwing people off
