Guns of the Dawn (68 page)

‘Not I,’ she said, heartfelt. ‘Are we to wait all night for this leader of yours?’

‘He’s coming,’ Balfor assured her. ‘Wait on him. It’ll be worth it.’

And, like an actor on cue, he stepped into the clearing so that the firelight could touch him. Emily, about to rebuke Balfor, felt the words dry up inside her throat and her hand slip from the
grip of her pistol. She knew her mouth was hanging open, but could not find the concentration to close it.

He was golden – golden like the sun, as golden as he had been at Deerlings House – and he trod the ground in the manner of a man whose ownership of all he surveyed was undisputed.
His clothes were not of the fine cloth she had seen previously, just a traveller’s simple garb of jacket and shirt and breeches, but he wore them as though they were cloth of gold. They shone
in his reflected glory.

King Luthrian of Lascanne, fourth of that name, regarded her with a slight smile to his lips.

‘Your Majesty,’ she whispered.

‘It is customary to affect some reverence in the Crown’s presence. Bow or curtsey as you think fit,’ he said, his smile making it only half serious. She realized that all the
others were kneeling before him, and she tried a curtsey, and then decided to kneel in turn, as a soldier before her king.

‘All may rise. What little ceremony we are left with is done,’ said the King sadly. ‘Some man fetch us some wine. Let us pretend that we can yet be civilized.’ His face
seemed all wry regret for what had been lost. ‘My dear Emily Marshwic, how glad I am to see you.’

‘Your Majesty is too kind.’

‘The Crown, no less than any private citizen, is aware of the debts that it owes, and will repay all in time,’ he said. ‘I remember you at Deerlings, Emily Marshwic. Of all the
ladies and the gentlemen I met there, I remember you. Who could have known, then, that you would prove such a faithful servant to me? To hold the Levant until all hope was lost! You are a hero,
Emily. You are the greatest hero of the whole war. When others failed, you stood by your duty. You were true iron, Emily, when the rest were exposed as adulterated metal.’

‘There were many others serving at the Levant, Your Majesty,’ she dared to remind him.

‘None such as you,’ he insisted. ‘Had all my soldiers been of your calibre, what an army I could have raised! But we have fallen on dark times, Emily. The Crown is hunted,
assailed on every side by foreign enemies and by traitors at home. Now, more than ever, I need men and women like you to take up the banner for me. You will profess yourself, I hope, still a good
servant of king and country.’

‘I will, Your Majesty. I am.’ The words were drawn from her like magic as she looked on his beauty. She had no free will in making them.

‘Of course you are. I need to build an army, Emily – an army that will claw at the innards of the Denlanders even as they try to digest us. I have been up and down the land setting
fires, since the defeat at the Couchant. I have inflamed the hearts of men and women, and recalled them to their duty. Now I am come to Chalcaster – and to you.’

‘The Denlanders know you are here, Your Majesty.’ Provost Gottred’s visit now made sudden sense. Doctor Lam had clearly been following rumours of the King, plotting his course
from one step ahead, as always.

‘Let them know, and let them fear it. I shall be gone on my way before they can gather their strength. I have escaped from them before. The Crown is sacrosanct. The filthy republicans
shall not touch it.’

The word ‘
republicans
touched a raw nerve in Emily. She was reminded, for a brief moment, of her talks with Doctor Lam, as his prisoner: his words about the causes of the war.
Before the radiance of the King it seemed mean and unimportant, and yet she clung to it.

‘You have met some of my lieutenants, Emily, some of my soldiers. There are many still loyal, willing to take up arms against the enemy.’ The King beamed as his gesture took in
the ragged dozen gathered about the fire.

‘I have met them, Your Majesty. Some I have even met before now.’

‘Excellent.’

She took a breath. ‘It is not excellent, Your Majesty.’

His smile broadened. ‘Come now, Emily. It is rather early for you to be quarrelling with your comrades, is it not?’

‘This man I know.’ Her finger picked out Griff. ‘He rode with the Ghyer and avoided the draft. He preyed on those whose menfolk were at the war front. And how many others here
are bandits, criminals? Your Majesty, they are not worthy of you.’

‘Well, Griff, she has you square,’ remarked the King to the brigand. ‘Emily, we live in difficult times now. The Crown cannot be so discerning as it once was when choosing its
chiefest servants. Those who will come to me shall serve, if they be willing. I shall not turn a man away if he will act for me.’

‘Even if his motives are no more than avoiding prosecution for his crimes?’ She was aware that she had left off the ‘Your Majesty’, but was reluctant to go back and
replace it.

‘His motives now are to serve the Crown, Emily, whatever else he may think. He will find his meanest action turned to purest gold if it be in service to his King. If I made it my wish,
surely you would not turn from me if I asked you to take him as your brother? I cannot think that a woman such as you places conditions on her loyalty.’

‘Of course not, Your Majesty.’

He smiled again, and all was well.

‘Then we must plan, must we not? When I leave here for Gosthorn, I must leave a plan behind, that you must carry out. The Denlanders must be harried like the quarry of a hunt. They must be
chased and run ragged. Tell me what you think would be best for these fellows here. I value your opinion.’

Hanging would be best for them, Your Majesty.
Now was the time to make her case, though. She had thought she must overawe some youth or order around some veteran. Now she saw she must
convince the King himself.

‘Your Majesty will be pleased, I hope, that I have already put some thought into this matter.’

‘How could I doubt it?’ he said. ‘You are a faithful servant. Surely action against the Denlanders is seldom far from your mind.’

‘Your Majesty may not know, but you have a great and faithful servant in Chalcaster already, and one who would transform your rebellion here from a mere gathering of thieves to a real and
savage threat to Denlander occupation.’

The King raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Of whom do you speak? Let us hear it.’

‘The man is Giles Scavian, Your Majesty, and he is one of Your Majesty’s Warlocks.’

The King nodded seriously. ‘Indeed, I recall the man.’

‘Alas, Your Majesty, he is in the hands of the enemy.’ Emily’s words killed outright the murmur of interest that had started about the fire. The King himself nodded
gravely.

‘Poor soul,’ he said softly. ‘I was told as much. It’s a wonder they’ve not killed him yet.’

‘They will, Your Majesty. Tomorrow, as I believe. He is held in the cells beneath the governor’s office. I myself have seen the place. He is as faithful a servant of the Crown as you
could ever wish for. I’ve never met one more devoted. Surely it’s our duty to free him, in order to join the fight?’

The men about the fire began muttering at that, for assaulting the governor’s palace was hardly in their line of work. Men like Griff and Balfor, they were opportunists forced into
outlawry by Lascanne law, then to rebellion by the harsher laws of Denland. She saw on their faces that this was not what they had signed up for, when they took this late-offered King’s
service.

‘Your Majesty,’ she said, ‘please . . .’

‘It is a bold proposal, Emily, and I love you for it. It shows the spirit I have been seeking all over this land.’ His smile grew seamlessly apologetic. ‘But I cannot
countenance it. We must harry the Denlanders, wear them down, weary them. To strike so swiftly at their heart would expose our strength too fully and too soon.’ There was no suggestion that
the King’s will could not accomplish the feat she requested. He simply found other excuses for not attempting it.

‘But, Your Majesty, with a Warlock to fight for you . . . ?’

‘Of course, the Warlocks have always been the principal servants of the Crown,’ he agreed. ‘Once free, this fellow Scavian would be an asset most valuable in the rebellion
against Denland. I say again, though, I cannot countenance making the strike to free him. It is too public, too fraught with risk. But your heart is rightly placed, Emily. I must have Warlocks to
serve me.’

‘Your Majesty?’

The King grinned at her, so lively and full of fire that she found herself grinning back. ‘Why, Emily, am I not the King? Does not ancient blood run in these very veins?’

‘Of course, Your Majesty.’

‘Why then, where I once had Warlocks, I shall anoint more. The power has not left me because I have been driven from the throne.’

She frowned at him. ‘But . . .’
But Scavian!
‘But from where, from what? What nobles . . . what men of good family?’

‘If only you had been born a man, my dear Emily.’ The King put a hand on her shoulder, sizing her up, and she felt the touch as hot and fierce as the campfire itself. ‘You
would have made a fine Warlock, none better. It is true that in the past we trained our Warlocks over long years, and we picked them from the finest bloodlines – those which already bore an
answering spark of royalty in them, so that our magicians would be both loyal and potent. Your family has given me good service before. Perhaps your sons shall serve so again. However, in these
dark days, I must make do with what fortune has left me. I have few nobles, but of willing men I have a sufficiency.’

‘But . . .’ She glanced around at Griff and the other tattered villains, and to her horror there was a sordid hunger about their expressions.
They think he means them.

He does mean them.

‘But these are criminals! These are villains!’ she exclaimed. ‘Surely you cannot think of giving them such power. How would they use it?’

‘In my service!’ The King’s voice, even slightly raised, halted her objections. ‘They will be my new Warlocks, and their power shall be mine to call upon, and no
other’s. Let them be weak, let them lack the discipline and skill of the magicians of yore, yet let them be
mine.
It is meet that I should use every means at my disposal to free
Lascanne from under the Denlander boot!’

‘Your Majesty, please reconsider,’ she said.
Even to regain his throne, even to protect his own life, will he give such mad power into the hands of any greedy vagabond that
swears to him?
She thought of Justin Lascari, anointed Warlock, and what he had tried to do before the end. The touch of the King was no guarantee of virtue, and nor was a nobleman’s
bloodline. In that moment she came perilously close to understanding the enemy: who could she ever trust with such searing power?
Scavian. Only Giles Scavian.

And she thought once again of Doctor Lam’s words, and all his dire prophecies of what would happen if Lascanne rose against its conquerors.

‘Do not worry, Emily,’ the King told her. ‘You will lose no honour by it. You will be my captain here. You will raise the people in my name, become my glorious banner! And you
will start tonight.’

‘Tonight, Your Majesty,’ she said heavily.

‘For tonight the first blow will be struck for Chalcaster,’ he explained. ‘Tonight we shall deliver a message for the Denlanders that cannot be misinterpreted.’ He
smiled, all warmth and glamour. ‘These are frugal times, Emily. This one thing must serve equally as the King’s justice, as our first blow against Denland, and as my gift to you, for
service done and for all the service you have yet to do.’

‘I require no gifts, Your Majesty,’ Emily replied nervously.

‘No man nor woman may
require
gifts from the Crown, but the Crown may bestow them at the Crown’s own will,’ he declared. ‘You, over in the trees, bring forth
your bounty!’

For a moment Emily was waiting for a whole host of men, an army of rebels, to sprout from the darkness, but it was merely two men, as ragged and rough as the rest, and between them they dragged
a third, hauling him forth and hurling him at the King’s feet. She saw a man dressed in dark clothes, lying curled up about his stomach. In this place she almost did not know him.

But it was him: Cristan Northway.

‘Your Majesty . . . what is this?’ she asked, her unease deepening.
What has been done to him? Has he been stabbed?

‘Know you all that this man is a traitor,’ the King stated. ‘He did not fight, come the war. He cowered in his office and, when the Denlanders came to Chalcaster, he gave
himself over to them, to be their creature – to oppress his own people in their name. Here is a turncoat and a traitor, gentlemen.’

Northway coughed and uncurled himself a little. Not stabbed then, but merely beaten. He had a flower of bruises across his face, and one eye swollen shut. The other eye flicked from the King to
Emily.

‘This man is corrupt and venal,’ the King continued. ‘His entire history has been one of bribery, embezzlement and crime. He does not deserve to sit in comfort while you, my
faithful followers, shiver here in the wilds.’ Luthrian IV’s eyes flashed righteous fire.

‘You never seemed to mind, while I was still in your service!’ Mr Northway wheezed, and Griff crouched down beside him and yanked his collar hard to shut him up.

‘This man, moreover, thought himself to be the one to catch me and hand me to the Denlanders,’ the King announced. ‘Did he not come to us, here in these woods, and lay a trap
for us, saying that we should storm the governor’s palace to rescue this Warlock, this Scavian, this
bait.
I cannot doubt but that he had a squad or two of Denlanders waiting for
just such an opportunity to cripple the rebellion, for all that he pretended to be contrite and loyal.’

Gritting his teeth, Northway looked up at Emily, one arm wrapped about his ribs, and she stared down at him and did not know what to think.
Did he or didn’t he? I’m so deep in
lies, I cannot tell now what is real. I cannot judge.