by AC Cobble
But what if he didn’t?
The king’s rule was never challenged because everyone knew how foolhardy and doomed to failure such a challenge would be. The legend of his might did as much to protect Vaisius Morden as his actual power. It was a wall that no one could fathom climbing.
But maybe they could put some cracks into that wall. Maybe, like it had done for the rangers, the truth could mint new allies. Rew, thinking it over as he spoke, told the others the beginnings of a plan.
“Hold on,” said Zaine. “You’re suggesting we… spread the truth?”
Cinda crossed her arms over her chest and stated, “After all of your demands for secrecy, Ranger, this seems a rather curious time to dispense with it. Are you sure about this? Sure you didn’t, ah, knock your head during that explosion? If we start spreading rumors—yes, I know, the truth—if we start spreading it, won’t that make it even more difficult to sneak around the kingdom? I realize the king is looking for us with all of his resources, but why encourage everyone else to come looking for us as well?”
Rew shook his head. “The point is, if we start spreading the truth, it could burst into a fire the king has to spend time putting out. And if he’s putting resources into tamping down the truth, those are resources he isn’t spending on finding us. And if others are looking for us, what of it? I’m not suggesting we give everyone our descriptions. Very few people in the Northern Province will recognize any of us, and the king isn’t going to go pasting up posters with our likeness. Do you see? If we tell the truth, we force the king to help keep things quiet. If he gives my description to every nobleman, spellcaster, and soldier in his service, it will confirm our story! He can’t show fear. The harder he searches for us, the more it validates us as a threat, undermines the myth of his power.”
“Aye, but will that actually help us?” challenged Raif. “We’re not afraid of his black legion or even his spellcasters. The thing we fear the most is the king himself. His power isn’t just a myth. Baron Worgon was a fool, but when we fostered with him, he had a saying about not poking a sleeping bear. Telling everyone what we’re doing is poking the bear, Ranger.”
“The king can’t want to kill us anymore than he already does,” argued Rew. “I don’t see us bringing any additional risk down on our heads by spreading the truth. It may force him to keep his dogs on the leash, and who knows? If the king is no longer seen as invincible, perhaps we’ll gather allies we haven’t expected. The rangers know, and they’re eager to join the fight.”
“But they are rangers. I’m not saying they are crazy, but they are wild loners who spend all of their time off in the wilderness. The king is invincible, more or less,” retorted Zaine. “Without Cinda, no one else can face him, right? If we recruit allies, we’ll be sending them to their deaths.”
Shaking his head, Rew replied, “I don’t want anyone to defy the king to his face, but they can work against him behind his back, out of his sight. Not even Vaisius Morden can be everywhere. Not even he can rule this kingdom without allies and others to do his bidding.”
The younglings turned to Anne, perhaps hoping she’d talk Rew out of his reckless course of action, but the empath sat studying him, her hands clasped and resting under her chin.
“Well?” asked Cinda, prodding the empath to speak.
“I think,” started Anne, “that we should walk the path we were meant to walk. We should live the lives we were born to live. Maybe only Cinda has the talent to face the king, but our mission is about more than just the man. It’s about the kingdom. Beyond us, beyond the king, there is the kingdom. The people of the kingdom have a right to know the truth. Rew is a son of Vaisius Morden. That’s the truth. This is his path to walk.”
“I can’t believe I’m the one advocating stealth, but this seems dangerous to me,” muttered Raif, scowling around the group. “I don’t mind a fight, but if we share the truth, we lose our advantage. We might not be able to pick the place and time of the fight.”
“You’re growing,” said Rew with a grin. “You’re right. There’s a time for stealth, but eventually, you’ve got to come out of the shadows. I think that time is now.”
“Do you really think that just by telling the world who you are, you’ll distract the king enough it gives us a chance?”
“Right now,” said Rew, “every noble in the kingdom is focused on the Investiture. They’re scrambling to realign after Calb’s death, lining up behind either Valchon or Heindaw. Their armies, their spellcasters, all of them are being assembled for a final clash, but what if they have to watch their flanks? Will that freeze them? Will that force them to withdraw, to keep their soldiers off the field of battle?”
“Or force them to act immediately!” cried Raif. “Anyone who’s lined up behind your brothers will have an incentive to kill you. I imagine the princes will shower wealth, land, and titles on whomever brings them your head.”
Rew, drumming his fingers on the bone hilt of his hunting knife, responded, “I’m not sure you’re right. The nobles of this land respect strength, and their one true goal is to end up on the winning side. We killed Calb. If you’re a baron trying to decide who to support, do you throw your lot in with a prince who destroyed his own city, Stanton, and the baron of that city in the process, or do you join a prince whose only plots have failed and who hides behind his walls? Or would it be better to support the one person who’s actually killed a prince? Raif, we’re the only ones who’ve proven success in this terrible game. I think if anything, the nobles may want to join us.”
“The winning side,” grumbled Raif, shaking his head. He leaned forward. “The way you talk, it’s like you’re planning to recruit your own army. Walk your path, eh, Ranger, but that’s not the tune you’ve been singing since we met you.”
Rew laughed. “No, Raif, I don’t plan to raise an army or to try and collect allies beyond what we already have. I’m not my brothers, and I won’t put anyone at risk who isn’t fully committed. I plan to settle things personally, but my brothers don’t know that. My brothers are spellcasters and politicians. They work from afar like Valchon did against Stanton, or in secrecy like Calb did against Carff, or through intermediaries like Heindaw did against your father. They won’t understand what I plan, so instead, they’ll defend against what they would do in our position. We don’t need Vaeldon’s nobles to join us, we just need them to think about it, to undermine the trust the princes have in them. We need the nobles out of our way, and I think the truth will send them scattering.”
“It is not the worst idea,” said Cinda, frowning. She brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear, her eyes flashing pale green in the diffuse light of the hollow they hid within. “We’re not really doing anything, really. We’re just talking about leveraging rumor to force the princes and the king to defend against a position we’re not taking. It’s a feint, like on a Kings and Queens board. It’s a ruse to trick them into watching their backs when we’re coming at the front. I—as long as that’s all we’re doing—support it.”
Raif grunted. “That gives me little choice.”
“You always said I’m the strategist, big brother,” replied Cinda with a wink.
“As long as Rew doesn’t forget he wasn’t the only one in that crypt in Jabaan,” grumbled Raif. He slapped the hilt of his greatsword. “We did our part, too.”
“I wouldn’t have made it out of there without you,” agreed Rew. Then, he glanced around the circle. “All of you. We survived Jabaan together, and we should move forward together. If you disagree and think we should continue in secrecy, we will.”
Anne smiled at him. “We should live the lives we were meant to live. You’re the king’s son, Rew. Like it or not, this is who you are. The world should know.”
Zaine shrugged. “I prefer stealth, and suddenly telling everyone who we are makes me nervous, but if I stopped following you because you’d come up with a stupid plan, I would have left long ago. I guess that means I’m in as well.”
; “You have my support,” declared Cinda. She picked at the crimson robes she’d been wearing since the fishing village. She winked at them. “And I won’t even accuse the ranger of stealing my idea.”
Rew grinned, and Raif huffed, “This whole thing is about Cinda. If this is how she wants to proceed, then I’ll go along with it.”
The nameless woman cleared her throat, and they all turned to her. “I, ah… I know I’ve betrayed your trust, but I spoke true when I said I’d do whatever was needed to free my father from the king’s grasp. I thought the prince and the arcanist would help me, but I can see that’s not the case. What they were doing in that room, with those soldiers… My father wouldn’t accept that price, even for his own soul. I cannot ask you to put your trust in me, but I will put my trust in you. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, whether that means leaving you or it means my death. You’re the only hope my father has, and you have my help if you can accept it.”
“I don’t think we need to be quite so dramatic as an execution,” murmured Rew.
In truth, though, he wondered. The woman, who still had not told them her name, had betrayed them. He believed she’d been surprised at the depths of evil her allies had sunken to, but they’d still been her allies. Just because she was shocked at their actions didn’t mean she’d turned from them. She’d said it herself, she’d do anything to free her father. She’d only be loyal as long as she thought they were her best hope. If she even believed that now, Rew thought bitterly. Of course a spy would lie to remain in their party. They couldn’t trust her, but going to Iyre, facing Heindaw and the rest of the Sons of the Father… They could use her. Relationships had been made on less.
“So all we have left to discuss is how?” questioned Cinda. She gestured around the quiet hollow they were hidden within. “I could try yelling really loud, but I don’t think that’s going to do it. Deciding to spread a rumor across Vaeldon is one thing, actually doing it…”
“The rangers will help,” offered Ang. He smiled. “They’re aching to do something useful.”
Rew nodded. “The rangers are a good start, but most of them are quiet by nature and aren’t likely to generate the attention we need. It’s a risk, but we could start rumors amongst the king’s legion. Ang, do you think that’s possible?”
“I think it will be easy,” boasted the captain. “Our command is isolated, but there are hundreds of extra soldiers in the area looking for you. Every evening, those men pass through our mess hall, speculating about what happened and what it means. Vurcell and I have a few trusted people, and we can get the gossip turned the way you want it. When those men go back to their home barracks, word will spread like fire through the legions.”
Rew nodded, satisfied. He turned to Anne. “What about the women’s network? Those contacts who funnel women to the colony and those who have left it?”
“The women won’t like it,” remarked Anne. “They’ve developed a taste for secrecy out of necessity. If they begin spreading rumors to all of the apothecaries, nursemaids, and healers in Vaeldon, someone is going to come looking for the source of those rumors. That puts the colony at great risk, and Mother Solomon will balk at that.”
“She’ll like what else I have planned for her even less.”
Anne frowned.
“You know her history?”
Anne’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t think she’ll do it, Rew. She came to the colony to escape all of that.”
Rew glanced at the others. “Before she came to this part of the world, Mother Solomon was a baroness in Jabaan. She was well-known and well-thought of. She outshone her husband, which may have been what led him to… That’s no matter now. He’s dead, and it hasn’t been so long that she would have been forgotten in the city. She has children in Jabaan still, doesn’t she?”
Anne shrugged. “I believe so.”
“Jabaan will be the source of enormous political activity for weeks as Valchon and Heindaw scramble to collect Calb’s allies. It’s the perfect place for our story to spread.”
“She won’t lie for you.”
Rew offered Anne a tight grin. “I won’t ask her to. She only needs to tell the truth. I claimed to have killed Calb, and I hid at the women’s colony and entered the Arcanum. It was destroyed, and I still live.”
“The king will know we had nothing to do with the destruction of the Arcanum,” pointed out Raif.
“The part that will matter to him is confirmation that we were there as he suspected and that we still live. By the time he hears it, I hope we’re long gone from the area. But for everyone else, they’ll naturally assume we did have something to do with the explosion. What is the king going to do? Tell everyone he destroyed his own compound and killed all of his own people? Between that and what everyone experienced in Jabaan, they’ll believe we’re serious players. Pfah, the work is already started there if anyone saw us and survived. The city could already know we were behind Calb’s death. It’s going to work. This is how we crack the wall of the king’s mythology. This is how we plant the seeds that will grow into dissent.”
“What if no one believes you’re the king’s son?” questioned Cinda. “He’s never acknowledged you publicly, has he? We have the disadvantage of history and what people have always known. The truth won’t do us a bit of a good if no one accepts it.”
“They may not believe that part, but I’m not sure it will matter,” argued Rew. “Whether or not I’m the king’s son, Stanton, the battle in Carff, Jabaan and Calb’s death, and the destruction of the Arcanum are all serious events. These are things the king cannot cover up. If one accepts we were involved in them… then what else will one accept? Whether or not I am his son, the fact that we are defying the king sows doubt about him and his story.”
“Fair enough,” conceded Cinda.
Continuing, Rew added, “At the least, Valchon and Heindaw know I’m their brother, and if they think I’m finally a player in the Investiture, it will make them cautious. If we keep them from attacking, that could save lives.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mother Solomon had been a noblewoman, a wife, a mother, a baroness, and the leader of the women’s colony. She’d spent years perfecting her glare. She poured every moment of that practice into the glare she delivered to Rew, and she held it, as if attempting to wither him like grass beneath a relentless summer sun. She stared at him without speaking, her eyes and the set of her jaw communicating everything that was not being said. She looked as though, if she’d thought she could do it, she would have reached across the table and strangled the ranger with her bare hands.
He returned her look steadily, not wanting to force her if he didn’t have to. He would give her time to consider what they’d said and what it meant.
Finally, she drew a deep, ragged breath and commented, “You know what that will mean for me if I turn up in Jabaan and claim I saw you? It will mean my death after a long and excruciating period of torture. If I claim to have seen you, even if no one believes I assisted you, they will think I may have some clue as to where you went. If I deny that I know anything, that won’t stop them. Nothing will stop them except me calling out like a songbird. They’ll draw every bit of information from me, no matter how hard I try to stop them. Everyone breaks under torture, and I’ve no illusions that I’ll last longer than most.”
“Then save everyone the effort and tell them what you know,” suggested Rew. “That’s the point. Tell the truth.”
“The truth? What is the truth? That you are the son of the king? I’m not sure I believe that, Ranger.” Mother Solomon glanced at Anne, a worried frown on her face. “Is it true, really? You actually mean to do the things you say you will do? You don’t strike me as that big of a fool.”
Rew smirked at her. “It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. Tell everyone it’s what I said. Tell people you don’t believe it if that makes it easier, but just tell them.”
“They’ll press me for where you went.”
“Then
, tell them.”
“I can’t tell them what I don’t know!” she cried.
“Tell them we’re going to Iyre where I plan to kill Prince Heindaw,” said Rew. He leaned forward, staring into her eyes. “They’ll believe that, Mother Solomon, because it’s the truth.”
She blinked at him, her mouth hanging open.
“You’re right,” continued Rew. “There is grave risk for you returning to Jabaan and sharing what you know, but I don’t think it’s as certain a risk as you believe. The king won’t act, because how would that look? His involvement would only confirm the absolute truth of what you say. The same with the princes. Denouncing you grants legitimacy to what you say. Remain in the public eye, and they cannot touch you.”
Mother Solomon looked away, staring out the window. Rew followed her gaze and saw she was staring at the shattered ruins of the Arcanum.
He told her, “What happened here is not a beginning or an end. It’s simply another step in a march that’s been going on for over two hundred years. It’s a step in a march that will go on for two hundred more years unless someone stops it. I can’t right everything that is wrong in this world. I can’t stop men from doing the things to their wives and daughters that drive those women here. I won’t claim that if the king is dead, any of that will end. It won’t. There will still be pain, still tragedy, no matter what happens. But that,” he pointed out the window to the ruins of the Arcanum, “is something we can stop. It’s a leap to a better world, if not a perfect one. You’ve devoted the last decade to making things better. Will you not help us make that big leap?”
Grunting, Mother Solomon stood and walked to a small cabinet at the side of her room. She looked inside of it then plucked a wax-sealed bottle of wine and shook it at Rew. “Years ago, do you know how I survived my husband’s wrath? I nearly drowned myself in this. I drank every day, trying to numb the pain, trying to forget, I guess. I stopped drinking after I came here and rejoined the world. I forged connections—real friendships—for the first time in years. I found strength in this colony. You’re asking me to leave all of that, to leave who I’ve become.”