“You knew he was like this,” Karris said, heat rising in her.
“Lots of men bother the slave girls and pressure the servants. I’d hoped the endless stream of women happy to climb into his bed would sate his appetites.”
“His is not an appetite for sex.”
“Yes, thank you. I see that now.”
“I won’t allow him to be alone with me again,” Karris said.
“You’ll do what you damn well need to!” Andross said.
“I won’t let him be alone with me again,” Karris repeated calmly. “Nor any of my people. And if anyone is found willing to testify against him, he will be brought up on charges.”
“This is why you put out that missive to the servants?”
“You know about that?” Karris asked.
“I thought you were trying to find the rumors so that you could silence them before they cause us embarrassment.”
“Then you thought exactly the opposite of the truth,” Karris said.
“No one’s going to come forward,” Andross said. “They never do. You’re his mother. I’m his grandfather.”
“Don’t underestimate a thirst for justice. Or the fear of the Guiles. It may lead someone to strike first. And even an allegation from a sufficient source would be enough to stop our Prism-elect from becoming Prism in truth.”
“No,” Andross said.
“I’m just telling you, it’s a card you ought to consider in your little games. There are other, better people who would make fine Prisms.”
“I have plans for him, and you will not—you will not!—destroy him. I’ll find out about anyone who comes to you.”
“You won’t harm them.” She said it with a whipcrack in her voice, and he looked at her, surprised.
“No,” he said. “I’ll pay them off. But carefully, in such a way that it doesn’t encourage more accusations.”
“Father,” Karris said, and there was no mockery in her voice at using the term, which made his brow knit. “Zymun cannot become Prism. He’s stupidly impulsive and rapacious already. If you put more power into his hands . . .”
“I’m not an idiot,” Andross sneered. “Of course he’ll never be Prism. But it doesn’t mean he can’t be useful in the interim.”
What?! “You’ve brought a fire into our house, and locked all the doors and chained all the gates. I hope you know what you’re doing better than my brothers did, or it’ll all be ashes again. This time for House Guile.”
Andross pursed his lips. “You don’t have to meet with him. Ever. I’ll take care of it.”
Surprised, she said, “Thank you.” And she meant it.
It was an odd thing, to know what she knew now, from the folio. Andross surely knew all the worst parts of what she’d read. He’d surely participated in some of them, and then had hidden that knowledge from even most (or all?) of the Colors now serving. He had participated in and ordered and committed murders.
But so had Orea Pullawr.
Karris found herself unwilling to forgive her old mentor, but also unwilling to condemn her. Why was it so different with Andross? Only because he seemed to truly enjoy being hated?
Then why did it trouble her so when he partially did the right thing?
Reluctantly, Andross said, “Now, what’s this about something we’re missing that’s going to lose us the war? Zymun? You think he’s going to wreck the effort?”
“No. I mean, I’m sure he’d tear apart the Seven Satrapies eventually—but no.”
“What, then?” he asked irritably. He glanced to the edge of the yard, where Grinwoody had appeared, but waited respectfully. Andross had other business to attend to.
“It’s my brother.”
And then something fell into place, and her skin turned to goose-flesh that had little to do with the morning’s cool air. She’d thought it a hundred times: Why me, Orholam? Why would You want me as Your White? And this was the answer: he was her brother, and she was a warrior. She was the only one who could stop him.
“Your brother the Wight King, I presume, not one of the ones who are ash?”
She took a breath and closed her eyes. Just when she wanted to see him as human. “Yes, the living brother.”
“I’m waiting on tenterhooks,” Andross said.
“He’s going to attack us,” Karris said. “Here. Soon.”
“I looked into those rumors. Nothing to them.”
“This is not from any rumor.”
“You’ve had words from spies? Which ones? Where?”
Karris chewed on her lip.
“What is this . . . ?” Andross asked.
“He’s my brother. I know him. I can just . . . feel it.”
Andross’s face lit with incredulity. “No, dear. You knew him. You’ve seen him one time in almost twenty years. He is not who he was before two wars and the fire that took him.”
“He’s my brother. And he’s going to strike first, just as he tried to strike first against Dazen.”
“You think he hasn’t learned his lesson from how that turned out for him?” Andross asked. “He was a child then. A boy amid the temperamental gang of his brothers, who thought their sister was being taken in by Guile deceit. He’s had a lot of years since then, and everything he’s done has been smart and forward thinking. He’s got supplies pouring into his forces because he didn’t let his men burn the fields as they marched through; they didn’t destroy the mills and the orchards. They left lambs and calves behind. He means to rule, not just conquer.” Andross lowered his voice. “He can win through sheer patience, Karris. If he attacks us now? He could lose everything.”
“But you’re counting on him waiting. Waiting gives you time to make something else happen that he can’t foresee.”
“Time is on his side.”
“Only if he wants to rule,” Karris said. And she thought of the look in his eyes when she’d met with him, a look of hatred implacable.
Andross tilted his head. “Of course he wants to rule. I just told you what he’s done to prepare—”
“To prepare for an assault on us. Koios doesn’t care how many of his own people die. What if he doesn’t want to rule? What if he just wants vengeance on all of us for what we’ve done? Regardless, it’s easier for him to build his new paradise on our graves.”
Andross scowled, thinking it over, but then his scowl softened, and she already knew what he was going to say. “We’ve no reason to believe what you’re saying.”
“I just gave you a reason,” Karris said.
“Your intuition? That’s not reason. That’s exactly the opposite of reason; that’s a feeling. A worry. You want to base our war plan on your intuition now? Well! Let’s recall our spies. What a waste of time, trying to actually find things out! We can just feel what our enemies are going to do from now on! It’ll be so much more efficient!”
“Has anyone told you recently how much of an asshole you are?”
“No. But only because they’re afraid of me.”
“Well, I’m not.” It was actually true at the moment she said it. And this, too, felt right. Her purpose was unfolding before her with every action that was in line with the Blackguard she was and every word she spoke that was true.