Revolution (Cartharia Book 2)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Matilyn looked around, her mouth open in a small 'oh' of wonder.

  Ra'sha resisted the urge to smile. "I've yet to leave Terifille," she told Matilyn, "though I've always wanted to. My father is not a fan of me traveling however, and so this is my way of escape."

  She gestured to a large book, still open on the desk. When Matilyn looked closer, she could see it was a practical guide to traveling in foreign kingdoms.

  "Perhaps someday you can visit Lamonte or Arinford," Matilyn said, "Certainly with the new alliance, your father would be more willing?"

  "Perhaps," Ra'sha agreed. She took a seat on one of the couches and folded her hands in her lap. She looked at Matilyn. The commander looked around for another moment before taking a seat herself, on the opposite couch.

  "How can I help you today?" Ra'sha asked.

  "First," Matilyn said, "I need to know if I can trust you with sensitive information."

  Ra'sha tilted her head once more. She considered the question carefully. She'd never been in a position quite like this, despite growing up in court, and she had to admit, she liked the quiet intrigue of it all. "You can trust me," she said.

  Matilyn nodded, looking relieved. "We believe we know now why Princess Catherine asked Prince Oliver to attack her."

  "So you are certain now that he is the guilty culprit?" Ra'sha asked. "And that Catherine planned it? You don't believe he could have been working on his own?"

  "Do you?" Matilyn asked, raising her eyebrows.

  Ra'sha shook her head. She'd known Oliver since they were both knee-high. The boy had never seemed like the sort to take control of a situation. She'd always led all their play games when they were young. "No."

  Matilyn nodded once more.

  "So what is they're planning?" Ra'sha asked. She found herself reaching for one of the small throw pillows and clutching it tightly to her chest in anticipation.

  "We believe they're planning on murdering the king," Matilyn blurted out, all at once.

  Ra'sha stared at her, shocked, "Why?"

  "Thirst for power," Matilyn said, "You don't know the Catherine from the Lamonte courts. She was a cruel girl there; people were terribly frightened to anger her. Yet, she still managed to get the things she wanted, when she wanted. She was ambitious, and intelligent."

  "Do you respect her?" Ra'sha asked.

  "It's hard not to," Matilyn admitted, "She's so young for someone who's accomplished so much. The way she manipulates..."

  Ra'sha nodded, "Oliver would be just the sort to listen to her. He's never been able to stand up for himself, not truly. If she somehow convinced him that murdering his father is the best way to assure his place on the throne, he would not hesitate to listen to her commands."

  "What a pair," Matilyn said sourly.

  Ra'sha laughed. She knew it wasn't funny, not really, not with the king's life at stake, but she couldn't help herself. It just seemed so surreal. After a moment, Matilyn joined her. Ra'sha couldn't help noticing she had a nice, pleasant laugh. It lit up her face, making her seem much less strict and formal than she usually came across.

  "I'm not sure why you're telling this to me instead of the king," Ra'sha said, once their laughter had faded.

  "We have no proof," Matilyn explained, "We would simply be accusing them based on our own guesswork and that's not enough."

  Ra'sha gave a contemplative nod. "I see."

  "We don't believe they're working alone either," Matilyn said. "We think they've got people they've somehow convinced to listen to them. Or rather, Catherine has people who are listening to her, Oliver being one of them."

  "No," Ra'sha said, "They wouldn't be working alone. That's quite an achievement they'd have to accomplish all on their own. If your Catherine--"

  "She's not my Catherine," Matilyn said sharply.

  Ra'sha leaned forward, amused, "If Catherine had people in Lamonte who would listen to her despite her reputation, I have no doubt she would find the same sort of people here. Perhaps even more. She does present a remarkably pleasant demeanor."

  Matilyn waved away that particular note with a hand. "We believe the same. Perhaps she recruited them herself, perhaps Oliver helped her. It matters little either way."

  "So what is it that you need from me?" Ra'sha asked. "I'm not quite certain why you're telling me, of all people."

  "You have a relationship with the prince," Matilyn said hesitantly.

  Ra'sha raised her eyebrows, "I suppose," she said, "For the longest time, we believed we were to be wed. Never quite the ideal circumstance for me, but we did spend years together."

  "Does he trust you?" Matilyn asked.

  "I believe so," Ra'sha said, "at least to some extent. You wish for me to speak to him on the matter?"

  "No," Matilyn said, "I wish for you to be one of them."

  "One of them?" Ra'sha frowned, uncertain just what she meant.

  Matilyn nodded, "One of the people working with Catherine and Oliver. Commander Frien and I have decided the best course of action would be to try and figure out exactly what their plan is from the inside. We need someone who the prince trusts for that."

  Ra'sha clutched the pillow on her lap tighter, surprised by the turn of the conversation. Her eyes drifted over to the book on her desk while she thought. It seemed fun before, like she was part of one of the detective novels she'd read when she was younger, but she knew this wasn't about fun. It could be dangerous, what she was doing. If they were truly planning to kill the king...

  She glanced back at Matilyn. The commander was watching her intently, and though she did her best to hide it, Ra'sha could see the hope on her face. She needed her help.

  "Of course you do," Ra'sha said, "I'm the perfect candidate. I can use my forgotten betrothal as a reason for joining them. I was denied my appropriate power and now I'd like to gain some of that back by helping them."

  Matilyn smiled, "You'll do it then?"

  "I'll do it," Ra'sha said, "But you have to do something for me."

  "What's that?" Matilyn asked.

  "You will speak to my father," Ra'sha said, "and when it's time for you to return to Lamonte, I will be allowed to set sail with you."

  "We'll be riding to war directly after," Matilyn said.

  Ra'sha laughed. "I'm not going to spend time with you and Commander Frien," she explained, "I simply would like to go to Lamonte court. I know you are close to King Sullivan. If you can convince my father, I have no doubt that you will be able to convince King Sullivan to allow me to attend court."

  Matilyn looked surprised. "I thought you had no interest in politics."

  "I don't," Ra'sha said, "I told you. I'm a scholar. I have an interest in all sorts of studious things, including history. This time, I'd like to witness it firsthand."

  THIRTY-ONE

  Tremble at this Chance

  "WE MUST DISCUSS THE NECESSITY OF A draft," Deyneth said to the King, leaning forward. The two of them were seated in his chambers. Deyneth had requested the private audience for a reason. She didn't want to hear the thoughts of the council or his other advisors.

  King William ran a frustrated hand over his face. He hadn't shaved in days and he looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. "You know how I feel about a draft. Our Kingdom has gone centuries without one."

  "We have gone centuries without a war too," Deyneth said, "It is imperative we get more people into the Guard. We have barely nine percent of the population fighting and it just isn't enough. We won't know what Lamonte has exactly until we gather more information but at last check, they had at least seven percent. They vastly outnumber us."

  "I know," William said, "but the people won't like it. When the war started and the talk of draft came up, there was a lot of unhappiness there. That is why we decided to wait."

  Deyneth nodded, "There was no reason to draft then, William. Valishna had just been attacked and we were in war for the first time in centuries. Peoples' blood was running hot and we had plenty of recruits. Our number
s have dwindled over the last two years. We can longer afford to operate on volunteer basis alone."

  "So a draft," William said.

  "A draft," Deyneth agreed, "I have my proposal for you to sign with me."

  "Let me see it then," William held out a hand.

  Deyneth slid the proposition from her bag and handed the scroll over. William untied it and began to read. He did so silently, though his lips occasionally moved with the words.

  "All men and women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five will be drafted," William read out loud, "unless they meet the exclusionary criteria. And what is the exclusionary criteria?"

  "If you move to the third page," Deyneth said. She paused, as William set the papers down, clasped his hands and looked at her.

  She picked up the papers on her own, but she didn't need to read them to know what they said. She was the one who'd written conscription after all. "If you are with child, or have delivered a child within the last six months--"

  "Six months?" William repeated, "So you want to leave babes alone without their mothers? The people will have my head."

  "The people will respect you for the leader you are, capable of making difficult decisions," Deyneth said, her voice never faltering from its calm undertones. "Moving forward. Men or women that are physically or mentally impaired and are unable to function in a public setting without assistance. Certain agricultural workers--"

  William frowned, "Farmers?"

  "Certain farmers," Deyneth agreed with a nod, "We can go over them in detail, but there are certain fields and areas that must continue to be kept. Our kingdom depends on it."

  William nodded. She was speaking of the farms that provided food to the capitol, and that shipped food to the coastal cities in exchange for salt-water fish.

  "There are a few more," Deyneth said, "Shall I continue?"

  "No," William said with a sigh. He put his face in his hands. "I'll have to read it myself, later, and discuss it with Lamping."

  Deyneth nodded. She'd expected this. It was better he discuss it with his assistant than with his entire council, however. Lamping could be convinced.

  "So we draft service," William said, "but this will only raise our percentages to fifteen, if we're lucky."

  "That is a lot of men and women," Deyneth said with raised eyebrows, "That will make a difference in this war. We will also be recalling all former officers to duty; those who have not volunteered on their own. We need strong commanders and battle-masters."

  William nodded, "And speaking of commanders -- any word on Malevus?"

  "Not yet," Deyneth said, "But we took the shore only recently. We must wait for more reports to come. It could be that she's been killed in battle already."

  "I know," William said. "I hope so, anyway. But hope and expectations are two different things."

  "We need to prepare the conscription papers as soon as possible," Deyneth said, setting them back in front of the king, "Do you wish me to send Lamping in so you can discuss this further?"

  "Fine," William said. He let out an exhausted sigh and beckoned with a hand, "Go get him. You're dismissed for now, Warlord."

  Deyneth sketched a curtsey and made her way out of the room. She waited until she was on the other side of the door before smiling. It wasn't an easy thing, to get a draft implemented. She had thought it would take more convincing and was pleasantly surprised at how easily the king had agreed. As long as Lamping agreed as well, the draft would come, and she would finally have the men she needed to take on Lamonte.

  And then King Sullivan would pay for the trouble he'd caused her kingdom.

  Stini motioned his men forward. He had Aeliana on one side leading a Charge, and Lieutenant Carl Cox on the other side. Despite his misgivings about taking charge of the entire division, Stini had found he actually liked Carl. The man was formal, serious, and followed military procedure to a T. He also had a good personality and a decent head on his shoulders.

  He thought Aeliana might resent having another lieutenant with the same standing as her, but she had accepted Carl as easily as Stini had. He'd seen them a few times, holed up together after a battle, sharing their food and talking strategy. Sometimes Rose would join them.

  Everyone moved forward as one. There were plenty of men tonight, but they kept formation somehow still. Stini was impressed. He hadn't expected the men he'd been sent to be so ready for what he had to order them to do, but they were.

  Since they'd merged with Carl's men, they'd been able to take out larger forces, and larger cities than their original attacks. Nobody was safe from their terrorizing strategies. It made their reputation that much more fierce.

  When they neared the gates of the latest city on their list, Stini was surprised to see several men standing outside of it. He was even more surprised when he didn't see weapons drawn.

  As if on cue, Aeliana and Carl both drew their swords. They looked over at Stini for direction. He drew his own weapon and started forward.

  Before they could attack, one of the men stepped out, holding out his hands imploringly, "Wait," he said in a thick, Lamonte accent, "Please, let us speak first."

  Many men and women had begged for their lives before, to no avail, but there was something about this night, and this man that gave Stini pause. He held up a hand for his lieutenants to wait. They fell in beside him, keeping an eye on the rest of the city, as though waiting for people to start attempting escape.

  "We are here to punish you for the crime of supporting Lamonte," Stini said.

  The man shook his head, "But you are wrong. We do not support Lamonte. We have heard of you -- the Lost Brigade, that is what you call yourself, is it not?"

  Stini nodded.

  "We want to join you," the man said, "We want to support you. What you've been doing, we understand the necessity of it. None of us like it, of course, the men you kill, those are our countrymen, but we understand it. We want to show our support."

  Stini was surprised. Plenty of people had begged, but none had come out and offered support to the Lost Brigade. Most of them were too scared of King Sullivan. His hesitation grew.

  "Why?"

  "Besides the fact that our lives are lost if we do not?" the man shook his head, "We do not support the Black King. He is a tyrant, who seeks power for personal gain. He has made our kingdom into something it is not: a war machine. The other kingdoms of Cartharia consider us monsters. Would you want that?"

  Stini said nothing. He knew how people felt about the Lost Brigade. They were the monsters.

  "Please," the man said, "Give us a chance. Let us be the first to rise up and say no more to King Sullivan. Our men and women will not join his military. Our children will not learn his ideals."

  He heard Aeliana shift slightly beside him. He avoided looking at her or Carl. This was a decision he didn't want, but it was his decision to make nonetheless. He didn't want his officers to influence him.

  "Prove it," Stini said.

  The man blinked. "How?"

  "There is a convoy coming through here the day after morrow," Stini said, "I want the men and women of your city to band together and destroy it."

  "We'll be killed!"

  "No," Stini said, "You won't. The convoy is made up of civilians. They are not even trained in combat yet. This is a practice that Lamonte has begun employing. They force villagers unable to deploy to instead volunteer their services in other ways. One of these ways is delivering food wagons to the soldiers near the shore. You might lose men, but you won't get destroyed."