“I know,” Andross said. “And I don’t like it.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been very carefully vague in my wording with all my commands, in everything I’ve done as promachos to prepare the islands for Ascension Day.”
“Okay . . .”
“I’m saying, when we go out there to the blast of the ramshorns and the dancers and the pyroturges, we have to declare someone the Lightbringer. But it doesn’t have to be me.”
Kip felt like a turtle-bear charging into a granite rock face. “Huh?”
“You could’ve done everything I did.”
“Not true,” Kip said.
“You did more than I did.”
“Arguable.”
“You laid the groundwork for everything I did. You figured out the puzzle. I didn’t!”
“That I can concede,” Kip said.
“You paid more than I did, and if it weren’t for my blunders with Zymun, you would’ve been on those mirrors all night. You would be being declared the Lightbringer in a few minutes. I should be, at best, an adviser to you, if not on the run for my life for everything I’ve done.”
“I would’ve loved to have had you as an adviser.”
“I know the truth. You and your father did the magic; I turned some mirrors.”
“You brought source to thousands of different drafters simultaneously and battered and confused and burned wights and immortals until dawn. No one else could’ve done that. I couldn’t have.”
“Don’t you want it?” Andross insisted. “Don’t you want to be the most important person in history? It’s this close! Reach out and take it! Play one more game with this as the wager. I’ll do it! I’ll do anything!”
“Anything, anything to prove it should belong to you?” Kip asked.
“You have no reason to believe I’ll rule well.”
“I believe you’ll find reasons to rule well.”
Andross’s face reddened.
“No, no, I know I seem like I’m being flippant. And, fine, I sort of was, because I know how you love that, but mostly I’m not.” Kip took a breath. “There are things in this life that I need. Things that I can hardly function without: My wife, a few close friends, hard work, the camaraderie of shared purpose, things to figure out. Some leadership, because I’m pretty good at it and I chafe under incompetence. But I don’t need power. I don’t need every eye to be on me every time I walk into a room. I don’t need strangers to know who I am or be in awe of me. I wouldn’t give up those first things in order to be the most important man in history. Because that man will also be the most isolated man in history. I’ve been isolated, and it’s not for me. Not at all. If I were declared Lightbringer, could I make it work? I mean, you sort of get to define the job as you go, right? Yeah, maybe I could, with a lot of help. I might even be a good Lightbringer. But I don’t need it. You? You do.”
“I’m the best one for the job!”
“So what’s your problem?” Kip asked.
“I didn’t earn it! I didn’t beat the overwhelming odds. I didn’t show the magical genius. I didn’t die twice. You did! We fulfilled all the prophecies—not me. I’ve spent my life preparing for this, and now I’ve proved myself to everyone except the people who matter—the son and grandson I’ll defraud in taking it. How can I accept a crown I didn’t earn?”
Kip gave him a sidelong look. “Maybe . . . rule as if it’s a gift, and not something you’re owed?”
Andross’s temper flared for a moment, then cooled. “I wouldn’t trust anyone with the power you’re giving me.”
“I know,” Kip said. “And hell, in a month? I’ll probably be kicking myself for this. You played a long game, and Orholam folded on His last card and gave you the victory. Now play the longest game. You’re the Lightbringer. Now be the greatest Lightbringer anyone could imagine. Don’t just win. Live victoriously.”
Andross grew thoughtful, then scowled. “You know,” he said, “I can’t tell if you’re wise beyond your years or just a dumb kid full of slogans.”
“Me, either,” Kip said.
Andross cracked a smile even as he shook his head. “Definitely gonna have to exile you somewhere.”
“Somewhere nice?” Kip asked.
“No, just far away,” Andross said.
“I could use a good wedding trip with my bride.”
“Oh, Orholam have mercy.”
“Also I need a job. I don’t think I have any money.”
“So it begins,” Andross said darkly.
“Actually, I might’ve also put the family on the hook for a few expenses in Blood Forest. And everywhere else.”
“What?” Andross asked. “And when were you planning to tell me this?”
“Why bring up a few little debts when we were all going to die?”
“How ‘little’ are we talking?”
“The Malargos family will have to help. And maybe some bankers. Definitely some bankers. Maybe all the bankers.”
Andross said, heading for the door, “Hellmount’s good for a honeymoon, I hear.”
“Oh, grandfather,” Kip said, stopping him before he went out. “I heard from the messengers that you also brought light to my people at the siege of Green Haven and saved the city. And definitely saved my friends. Thank you.”
Andross stared at him for a few moments, then nodded and left.
Alone, Kip wondered if he’d done something very, very good or very, very bad. He turned to head out the other door and saw his father watching him. “How long have you been there?” Kip asked.
“You know,” Dazen said, fiddling with the black eye patch he wore now, “when I was kid, when Sevastian died, I felt like I’d suddenly lost not just my brother but also my father. Growing up, I longed for someone who would mentor me, tell me how to do things—instead of just judging me when I failed. My father’s work was always everything to him. The scraps went to Gavin, and I got nothing. I missed out with you—”
“Not exactly your fault,” Kip said. “You didn’t know I existed for most of my life.”
“I’m not talking about those years. I mean since I found you.”
“C’mon, you’ve been a bit busy saving the world.”
“That was my father’s excuse for all the terrible shit he did, too,” Dazen said, “but . . .” Dazen cleared his throat. Adjusted his eye patch. “I mean, I see you do what you just did with your grandfather, and, Kip, I’m so damn in awe of you . . .” His eye misted up, but he kept going. “And . . . I’m so damn sorry. You needed a father. And now I’m too late.” And suddenly tears were streaming down his cheek and his breath was strained. “I missed my chance. You’re a man already now. And a fine one,” he said, getting control of himself. “A better man than I ever was. And I want to be proud of you—but you did it all without me. How can I take pride in what you’ve done without my help? You didn’t need me. To do all this, you didn’t need me.”