55
THEY SAT IN A circle in front of the fire. Arcturus, the nobles, the two dwarves and the three sergeants. As for the soldiers, most lay sleeping, scattered like dolls on a nursery floor. Snores permeated the room as if it were occupied by an orchestra of broken wind instruments. Of the nobles, only Edmund and Alice did not join their war council, instead resting in a makeshift bed of furs and leathers in the corner.
“How’s Edmund?” Uhtred asked as Rotter came back from checking on the stricken noble.
The dwarf was still in a state of shock from what Rotter had told him of the nobles’ escape, and they were the first words he had spoken in quite some time.
“Well enough,” Rotter said, his mouth half-full. “He’s talking normally again, and Alice is feeding him. Thank you, by the way.”
He waved a hunk of bread in the air as he sat down. Uhtred had disappeared upstairs soon after they arrived and had returned with enough bread and cheese to feed a small army … which indeed it had. There was water enough from a tank in the corner, one Uhtred used for dousing when he did his metalwork.
Crawley had been tied to the tank, while Sacharissa kept watch over him. She snarled if he so much as even twitched, so the man lay perfectly still, his eyes darting around the room.
“How’s it going over here?” Rotter asked.
In the center of their circle sat a pair of scrying crystals, and the group had been watching them in relative silence for the past few minutes. Even with two crystals, it was not easy for everyone to see, but the image was clear enough from Arcturus’s vantage.
Valens was on the move with a note that Prince Harold had written. Now the Mite flitted from rooftop to rooftop, observing the streets below.
To Arcturus’s surprise, they seemed relatively calm. In fact, few people wandered the streets at all, and those that did seemed to be in a hurry. It was as if a curfew had been put in place.
The morning light was still barely blushing the horizon, for it was still the early hours. But one thing did seem out of place. The great pillars of smoke, scattered across the sky.
“Something happened last night,” Prince Harold said. “Rioting? Or an invasion from the soldiers.”
“They were told to head to Corcillum,” Sergeant Caulder said. “But who knows what orders they received when they got here.”
“I know,” said the third sergeant. He was seated between Sergeant Caulder and Sergeant Percival, a round-faced man who had barely spoken since they had left Vocans. He had introduced himself as Daniels, but volunteered little more until that moment.
“We went to Corcillum,” Daniels continued, and he had the good grace to look ashamed. “We were on our way back anyway, when Barcroft’s orders arrived. There were riders skirting the southern entrances—they stopped us before we could go into the city. They said they’d occupied the southern half of the capital, and we were to make camp and wait for more orders. But there weren’t many other squads there; ours was one of the first. We thought it would be safer at Vocans … wait it out, you know?”
He shook his head, and Arcturus could not tell if his expression was one of regret or relief.
“Then one of the other sergeants came over,” Daniels said. “He told us the nobles had gathered their household troops and barricaded themselves in Corwin Plaza. That we’d be assaulting it at the tenth bell the next day. And to expect heavy casualties, but that we would triumph.”
“They’re going to attack?” Prince Harold said. “Are they mad?”
“No,” Uhtred said. “They have the numbers.”
“If you think that, you’re a bigger fool than I gave you credit for,” Zacharias laughed.
“With respect,” Prince Harold said, ignoring Zacharias’s words, “these are powerful summoners, many with their own trained bodyguards. Even the squads that patrol Hominum’s southern border would not be able to beat all of them.”
“The rebels don’t need the soldiers,” Uhtred replied. “They have the people. There are marches in the streets, flags being burned. The citizens don’t even realize that there’s a rebellion; they think it’s a spontaneous protest. Just a mass of angry people gathered around the plaza, singing songs and waving banners. Thousands of them.”
“How do you know this?” Arcturus asked.
“The dwarves have their friends among the humans,” Uhtred said. “We know what’s happening. Some are even rebels who want us to join them. But we will not risk dwarven lives for a human cause. Alfric may hate us, but these rebels may be no better.”
Ulfr cursed quietly. The rebels were winning. He had chosen the wrong side, and now the dwarves would be punished.
“The soldiers are supposed to start the fight, then shepherd the crowds toward the plaza,” Uhtred continued. “It’s a powder keg, waiting to explode. And they will light the fuse in a few hours.”
“The cowards are going to make the citizens fight their battle for them,” Rotter growled.
“Hang on—they said they would attack today?” Prince Harold said, horrified.
“That’s right,” Daniels said.
“We have to stop this!” Prince Harold exclaimed.
“So you can protect your inheritance?” Uhtred said, raising an eyebrow. “There’s nothing you can do. The king will be forced to surrender—even a summoner can’t defeat thousands. How can someone rule those who refuse to obey him? It is better this way.”
“We were never the key to the rebellion,” Arcturus said, realization hitting him like a brick wall. “We were insurance. To make sure the nobles behave after they surrender.”
“You don’t understand,” Prince Harold said, wringing his hands. “You think my father would surrender? He would never.”
“But…,” Arcturus began.
“No!” Prince Harold said. “He would die first. It will be a massacre. Hundreds, maybe thousands will be slaughtered. He is one of the most powerful summoners to have ever lived. His demons will butcher people in the streets. Blood will run in the gutters and half the city will be burned to ash before he’s done.”
Arcturus knew it was true. He had seen the cruelty in the man’s eyes.
“Our families have charging stones full of mana,” Zacharias scoffed, misunderstanding Prince Harold’s tone. “We’d win, easily.”
“They underestimate his power … and overestimate his aversion for killing innocents,” Prince Harold whispered.
“Some of our parents would surrender; they wouldn’t want to kill citizens … but I know Alfric would not fight alone,” Josephine said. It was the first time she had spoken since they had left Vocans, and Arcturus looked at her, surprised.
“The Favershams, the Forsyths, the Rooks, and many others. They would join him,” she continued, tears in her eyes.
“And well they should,” Zacharias said. “Why should they lie down and let the plebs steal our birthright?”
His words were met with grim stares, even from Josephine. The noble lowered his head.
“Maybe we could win,” Josephine whispered. “But at what cost?”
“So we have to stop it,” Prince Harold said.
He turned to Elaine. She was sitting cross-legged, her tongue sticking out with concentration as she guided Valens over the roofs of Corcillum, oblivious to the conversation.
“Elaine,” Prince Harold said.
She looked up and blinked tiredly.
“I can’t find our parents,” she said, her eyes half-closed. “Can you tell me where the palace is again?”
“It’s okay,” Prince Harold said, brushing a smear of dirt from her cheek. “You can sleep now. We don’t need to get a message to them anymore.”
“Why not?” Zacharias demanded.
“Because the fact that they think we’re still captive may be the only thing that stops our families from fighting back when the time comes,” Prince Harold snapped. “And maybe they can convince my father, if not to surrender, then to retreat, fly away.”
“Wait … so we want our parents to just give up?” Zacharias said. “You’re crazy.”