And there we have it: ‘The whole bastard situation’, as if the resurrection of our Bloody Mother is a chore or a whim that he regrets agreeing to.
Valan was watching her, his expression unreadable. She gave the smallest nod of her head: Soon. Very soon.
‘Corvus, brother,’ Rillirin began, trading on their shared blood as she had ever since she’d been returned to them. ‘Surely you don’t—’
Three heavy raps on the door cut her off and Tett strode in a moment later. He sketched a shallow bow. ‘Word from Pine Lock, Sire. Ten days ago a large force of Krikites, allegedly led by the Fox God Himself, took the town and freed the slaves. All East Rankers garrisoned there were killed in the fighting or captured. The town was then evacuated and burnt to the ground, with the refugees vanishing into the Western Plain. Perhaps to Alder Hollow, perhaps just to lose themselves in the wilderness or flee to the Wolf Lands.’
Lanta’s blood ran cold. They were losing control. Corvus was losing control. If they allowed Rilpor to languish under his reign much longer, they wouldn’t have a country to gift to the Dark Lady when She returned to them.
‘Ten days?’ Corvus snarled, lurching out of his chair. ‘Gosfath’s balls, why did it take so long for word to reach us?’
‘The Ranker was wounded during the battle, which slowed him. And he didn’t know whether the Krikites had gone on to Yew Cove, so he couldn’t risk taking a boat past the town. He had to march overland.’
Corvus swore and began to pace.
‘There’s more, Sire,’ Tett said stolidly. ‘Sailtown fell too, on the same night. A co-ordinated offensive on the autumn equinox, it seems. Mace Koridam and the surviving loyalist Rankers appeared out of nowhere and overran the defences. They somehow managed to get across all Rilpor without anyone spotting them to raise the alarm. Skerris is dead and Sailtown, too, was burnt and its people fled. A patrol out of Three Beeches saw the smoke and investigated, then reported in and were sent on here.’
Corvus swore some more, with passion and inventiveness. Lanta could hear her teeth grinding. Skerris was a priest of the Red Gods, as well as a soldier. Skerris was more fucking useful these days than Corvus.
‘And Koridam has pronounced himself king.’
That brought all movement, all speech, to a clanging halt. The room was silent but for the crackle of logs in the fire, the snorting of Corvus’s breath, and Rillirin’s smothered laughter. The identical expressions of violence on all their faces as they turned to her only made her laugh more.
She pointed at Corvus. ‘You’re so fucked,’ she giggled. ‘Oh, you’re so fucked now. The Fox God’s back and he’s coming for you, and the whole country will flock to Mace’s banner when they find out he’s king.’ She laughed some more, going red. ‘You’re so fucked.’
Lanta looked at Tett and at Valan; neither of them seemed inclined to disagree. Corvus spun away, grey with fury or with shock, and retreated into the shadows at the corner of the room, snagging a cup as he passed the table. It got halfway to his mouth before he flung it at the opposite wall, dark wine spraying across the plaster and dripping like blood to the flagstones. The cup itself was made of soft, heavy gold and crumpled on impact, though without the satisfying sound of shattering he no doubt wanted.
While his back was turned, Lanta gave Valan a nod. This is it. This is our chance.
‘Sire, I will ride at dawn for Sailtown to pick up their trail and prevent them from attacking us here,’ he said as if it had all been rehearsed. ‘With enough warriors I can bring them to bay and defeat Koridam, end his bid for your throne before it has even begun. I would suggest sending Fost to Pine Lock to do the same. It is best we know exactly what we are facing. Tett, how many men did Mace have?’
‘No,’ Corvus interrupted, and Lanta didn’t miss that he looked to Tett for support. Tett, not Valan and not her. ‘It’s time this farce was ended. Tett, get me the map.’ The man dragged it off a shelf and Corvus pointed to the floor in front of the fire where the light was best. They squatted either side of it and Valan moved to Corvus’s left. Lanta shifted to the edge of her seat and peered down.
‘Sailtown,’ Corvus said and put his dagger on the symbol.
‘Pine Lock,’ Tett said and did likewise.
‘They’ve split their forces, but it was ten days ago, so we can’t capitalise on it. The messengers moved through Yew Cove and Three Beeches, yes? Those towns remain productive and under control?’
‘Yes, Sire, they’re fine, or they were when word came through. Jumpy with the news, but holding firm.’
‘So where have they gone?’ Corvus mused, tapping a finger against his lips as he examined the map. ‘Will they regroup or come at Rilporin from two directions?’
‘That would leave garrisons at Yew Cove and Three Beeches behind them,’ Valan pointed out. ‘They’d need to take out those positions to guarantee they weren’t caught between our walls and a second attacking force. The fact they left them indicates they feel the need to consolidate troop numbers.’
‘Yes,’ Corvus said and Lanta felt a flicker of disquiet at how easily Valan had been pulled back into the king’s circle. Even now it could all slip through her fingers. Goddess, country, power.
Tett drew a straight line with his finger from Pine Lock to Sailtown. It went directly through Deep Forest, with the lake called Silent Water in its midst. ‘Seems a likely staging point. They can conceal their numbers in the forest and use it as forage. The lake will keep them in fresh water. Sit tight and wait for us to come to them.’
‘Then perhaps you should not. Surely they will have laid traps,’ Lanta said. ‘You wouldn’t know what you might be walking into.’
‘The longer you leave them out there, the more damage they’ll do to your pet Rankers and your grip on ordinary Rilporians,’ Rillirin said as if she had the first fucking clue about military strategy. She shuffled to the edge of her seat and pointed. ‘Maresfield’s an easy win for them if they are in Deep Forest. Then they may as well carry on to Three Beeches. After that—’
‘Shut up,’ Corvus snapped, his voice cold, but he didn’t contradict her because she was right. ‘They know we know where they’ll be. And they know we’ll come for them.’
‘We could march wide and flank them,’ Valan suggested and Lanta noticed the use of ‘we’. Her jaw tightened.
‘We’d have to come at them through the forest,’ Corvus said. ‘No. Straight approach is the simplest; we’ll put Rankers out as screens to trip any ambushes they’ve set. Tett, send word to Yew Cove, Shingle and Three Beeches to strip their garrisons, leaving the smallest possible number to control the populace, and to march or sail to Rilporin. I want them here in ten days at the most, so send those messengers now. I’ll take as many Mireces as I can and we’ll march together for Deep Forest. One final battle and it’s done. Tett, you’ll ride as my second.’
Lanta’s breath caught in her throat and she looked instinctively at Valan. He’d paled at the pronouncement, but she thought it the pallor of anger rather than shock. Good. She could use anger.
‘And me, Sire?’ he asked with stiff formality.
‘You stay. Protect the Blessed One and keep an eye on my sister; don’t let the slaves rise in my absence.’
‘Your will, Sire.’ Spots of colour danced high on his cheekbones, but his voice was tightly controlled. Still, the shame of it was obvious to them all.
‘Blessed One, would you or Gull intercede with Holy Gosfath for me, see if there is anything else we can learn?’
Lanta stood, willing herself not to look at Valan and the ashes of her plan. ‘I will do so. Rill, with me – you cannot stay here with the king absent and he will have much to plan in the coming days. He doesn’t need you under his feet. Second,’ she emphasised the title, ‘perhaps you and I should discuss how best to manage the slave population.’
Tett stared at them without speaking, Valan hesitated and then stood, and Corvus pretended not to notice. Lanta snapped her fingers and Rilliri
n heaved herself out of the chair, apparently deciding not to risk angering Corvus or Lanta herself any more this night, and together they left. The king didn’t even watch them go.
Lanta pointed at the guards who stood at attention outside the room. ‘You two, take the princess to her quarters and help her gather up whatever she needs; she is moving into the temple. Second Valan will escort me.’ She didn’t wait for a response, striding along the corridor with her skirts boiling like a blue wave around her ankles. ‘This is a catastrophe,’ she muttered. ‘I do not have a legitimate reason to send you out of the city, yet we must do it before he leaves. Let us find your slave. The sooner this is over, the better.’
‘Blessed One, perhaps this is a sign from the gods that this is … not the right choice.’ His tone was hesitant, as it should be. ‘We are still far from sure of victory.’
Lanta wanted to scream. ‘You believe I have made a mistake in this?’ she demanded, her voice a low hiss. ‘No, Valan, the choices we make in honour of the gods are not always easy, but they are always right if it is Their will. And Their will shall manifest in the success or failure of the attempt – all we can do is make it.’ She pressed her hands to her heart. ‘I have told Holy Gosfath what is happening here, told Him what I think we should do to secure His ascension and His Sister-Lover’s return. The god agrees.’
The words were not a lie; at no point had the God of Blood indicated that He did not agree with Lanta’s plans to replace the king with Valan and rule alongside him. The God of Blood had not indicated displeasure at her proposals, because He concerned Himself with issues far greater than petty power struggles. As such, his silence was tantamount to agreement. Still, the validation straightened Valan’s shoulders. The god approved his claim to kingship.
He put his hand on her arm, slowing her. ‘Then, Blessed One, forgive me but even with such divine approval we cannot act now. This new intelligence proves the country is too unstable for a change in ruler. Let Corvus go and fight Koridam and his Krikites. Let him go and secure Rilpor on our behalf,’ he murmured, ‘while you and I remain here and together effect the return of the Dark Lady. If Corvus lives, we kill him on his return. If he does not …’ He shrugged. ‘Then Tett will be king, a nobody, a stranger to most of our warriors. I was second to Corvus as war chief, I am his second’ – his face twisted with anger – ‘was his second as king. They will support me if I challenge Tett on his return. But whether it’s Corvus or Tett who marches through Rilporin’s gates after their victory, Blessed One, he will not live out the night. His victory over Koridam will give us the country – and then his untimely death will give us the country.’
‘Very well,’ she said eventually. ‘The situation moves more swiftly than I had hoped, but we can still seize the initiative and bring Gilgoras on to the Dark Path.’ She stopped. ‘The gods want you as king, Valan, and that is why they have seen fit to have you remain here, out of danger. There is no shame in it; it is divine intervention. And I want you … as king,’ she added and gave him a smile he’d feel all the way down to his toes. ‘Adapt or die, as the gods decree. We are Mireces. We overcome.’
‘Corvus is not Mireces,’ Valan added, confidence and contempt weighing equal in his voice.
‘No,’ Lanta said. ‘He is not.’
TARA
Tenth moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus
Heir’s suite, the palace, Rilporin, Wheat Lands
The news of the fall of Pine Lock and Sailtown had stormed through Rilporin, trailing worry and excited speculation behind it. The Mireces had tried to suppress the revelation that Mace Koridam was setting himself up as a rival king, but there was no stopping it.
It was exactly what they needed, stirring up the slaves, giving them hope. Every one of them knew Mace had come to Rilporin’s aid despite all his Rank had endured, and they knew what he’d done, how he’d managed to get thousands of refugees out of the city even if they themselves had been trapped. He was a man, a soldier, a commander who had fought and nearly died multiple times to bring them victory. The revelation he was taking the crown put them on a cliff edge of rebellion and Tara was about to push them over the edge.
Valan and Lanta weren’t the only ones who could plan a coup, after all.
As the days passed while they waited for the Easterners to arrive, Tara paced Valan’s suite waiting for his signal to take out Corvus. It didn’t come, and although she made a show of being vocal about Vaunt’s freedom and the promises she’d been made, she stopped short of pushing the second too hard. He told her the plan would still go ahead when Corvus was back, and he might even have meant it, but Tara’s own plans had moved on and her impatience was for Corvus and his army to leave. She trusted her general, her Commander of the Ranks – my king! – to deal with Corvus as he deserved.
And then, finally, the Mireces and East Rankers headed out into the Wheat Lands towards the distant Deep Forest, eight days after they’d learnt of the twin attacks by Mace’s forces. A wave of punishments and killings preceded the march – those slaves who weren’t deemed cowed enough were executed and Tara knew some of the men and women she was relying on would have lost their lives. She couldn’t afford to change her plans. The vast majority of the north barracks Rank prisoners were dead of fever, and Vaunt’s in the south barracks were weak from lack of food, but the slaves still outnumbered the remaining Mireces and converts five to one. It was fear that kept them in place. Fear, starvation and the lack of weapons. Vaunt’s job was to take away the first and procure the third – they’d just have deal with being hungry until the city was secure.
And then they were gone, and Valan hadn’t gone with them. Another unforeseen complication. And not only that, but he’d seconded her to be his informal aide, trailing him around as he inspected walls and stores, meted out punishment, even visited the temple and Lanta. But she couldn’t risk taking on Valan, Lanta and whatever guards the priestess had until she could get word to Vaunt or any of the rebels to say they were ready to go.
Corvus had left three days before and the remaining Mireces were beginning to relax, making it the perfect time for the rebellion to begin. If they delayed much longer, some of the slaves would take matters into their own hands, and if Tara wasn’t in place when it started, she was unlikely to get to Lanta and Rillirin before the city went into lockdown.
Until, on the fourth morning, it was there. Her chance. Word came shortly after dawn that a section of the western wall had suffered a partial collapse in the night, and before the sun was more than a finger over the horizon, they were striding down the King’s Way to First Circle.
‘Explain,’ Valan snapped to the masons gathered around the small drift of rock and dust. A few had already started tapping and chipping at the stone around the collapse, but everyone turned to face him as he spoke. Merol was there; Merol saw her. She gave him a small nod.
‘Cracks inside the wall,’ a mason said. ‘Too deep in to see from out here, no way to tell they’re there. So much shifting and hammering at that end it caused a collapse up here.’
Tara suspected he was making it up as he went along, but the Mireces didn’t do a lot of building with stone – with luck, they’d get away with it. She knew, too, that word was passing without her involvement, that the rebels had realised they needed to get her here and so they’d had to do something big enough to attract Valan’s attention. It was a huge risk, but if she could phrase this right, it would pay off.
The mason who’d spoken turned to the wall and started gesturing, and Valan stepped forward, wary because the men were bastard massive and armed with hammers, but they all shuffled back out of his way. Merol ended up next to Tara.
‘Looks like a god took exception to our wall,’ he rumbled and she frowned at his peculiar choice of words, then understood.
‘A message from the gods, perhaps,’ she murmured, the code the rebels used to identify each other. He nodded, thoughtful. ‘And will you have it ready by noon, do you think?’
&
nbsp; ‘Noon today?’ he asked, startled. Tara nodded, not daring to look at him or Valan or anyone. ‘That’s a tight timeline to rebuild a wall. Will need a lot of men.’
‘I’m no mason,’ Tara said, ‘but I think there are enough to get it done. And, well, it needs doing, doesn’t it?’
Merol glanced at her sidelong. ‘Aye, it needs doing. I think noon will work just fine.’
Noon came and went and the city remained worryingly quiet. Valan was at his desk with the one they called Slave Silais, the nobleman Tara had last seen trying to escape the city and the Mireces invasion, the pair of them discussing the need to re-establish river trade with those towns that still survived after Mace’s scorched-earth approach to Pine Lock and Sailtown. Silais was the one who had helped let into the city the very people he was now collaborating with. Silais was the one who had tipped the scales in favour of the enemy.
She’d stood opposite him for an hour and his gaze had travelled through her several times. Despite his position, despite the metal collar on his neck, he still acted as if he had a royal sceptre up his arse. And he didn’t have a clue who she was, either. It infuriated her.
The sun moved on, an hour past its zenith. They’d caught Merol. He’d been discovered as a rebel and executed. The rebellion she so desperately needed wasn’t going to happen.
The door burst open. Silais shrieked, Valan leapt up, knife glinting in his fist, and Tara flinched, hand groping for a weapon, her tension releasing in a great wave of adrenaline that nearly made her stagger, the world coming into painful focus.
‘Second! Slave riot in First Circle. Bunch of soldiers, looks like, and some masons, but it’s spreading.’
‘Shit,’ Valan said. ‘I knew it. I knew something would happen. Stay here,’ he snarled to the room in general and was gone, slamming the door after him. Tara heard the turn of the key in the lock.
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