“I shall pass along Your reply.” He held on to my proffered hand a shade too long. “And I’ll include Your reply to His Imperial Majesty’s missive, as soon as You’ve penned it.”
The advantage of the alabaster makeup and painted lips is that the thinning of my smile never shows. “I can’t express my delight,” I replied, and pulled my hand from his unwelcome grip.
If only I could extract myself and Calanthe from the emperor’s hold as easily.
8
Sondra led the way to Ambrose’s new lair, while Kara remained behind to escort Salvio to his very public execution. That demonstration should convince any of the populace who still lingered in the plaza wavering on their oaths of loyalty. Some people needed to witness that their conqueror would have them killed, if necessary. It was no bluff, either. I’d have to order their deaths if they refused—I had no choice—but I’d rather terrify them into changing sides. I didn’t mind being feared as a monster, since that was better than demonstrating I am one.
Once they committed, they’d discover that we’d arranged for half of Salvio’s treasure to be distributed evenly among those who swore fealty to me. I didn’t like them to know ahead of time, as some would say anything for financial gain. An interesting insight into human nature, that love of money drove certain personalities more than anything else. I didn’t want that kind in my ranks.
Our system worked. Those wishing to pledge their loyalty to our cause did so via the waiting priests of Sawehl. We always “liberated” the local temple of Sawehl first, a trick we’d discovered early on. Anure had desecrated the temples to Sawehl and dishonored the priesthood as existing only to feed off the superstitions of the people. His Imperial Majesty hadn’t overtly forbidden the worship of Sawehl, but he’d done everything but, including taking the title His Holiness. The temple of Sawehl—and thus its priests—had not flourished in the empire.
Conversely, we offered them sanctuary, protection, and a hefty donation to the coffers. Sometimes all it had taken was sharing our food with the most impoverished. All they needed to do was take the pledges of loyalty and work to rebuild their parishes in our wake. Priests of every temple, cloister, and estate chapel we’d encountered gladly supported our cause.
Some priests had gone so far as insist on anointing me Sawehl’s chosen son, the most deeply ironic honorific of all those foisted on me. As if the sun god would choose a miserable nobody who grew up in the volcanic pits of Vurgmun, son of a forgotten and immolated king, possessing only a black heart bent entirely on revenge. Of course, all of that also meant I possessed zero integrity. That sort of noble feeling belonged to Conrí, lost king of Oriel. Con, the Slave King, had no problem professing false faith, as he took advantage of every opportunity that furthered his path to revenge.
So although I hated every moment of the lie, I’d bowed my head and grated out the vows. Amazingly enough, the holy oils never sizzled when they met my unholy skin. It could be that Sawehl didn’t particularly care what humankind did, which was the most likely explanation. After all, I didn’t understand or concern myself with the termite mounds we passed. Or Anure was right: Magic was dead or never was. Perhaps both were equally true.
Still, the common people of the empire believed in Sawehl, and in Ejarat, even though their faith mystified me. Where had Sawehl been when Anure breached their walls, toppled their kings, executed their wizards, and burned out their farms? Anure had a point there, that the sun god had done nothing to save them. Nor had earth mother Ejarat, though Her worship had always occurred under open sky and at the hearths and homes of those who asked for Her gentle nurture in their daily lives.
There was no accounting for what people believed in. Look at how many followed me and my cause. I didn’t understand any of it.
My cynicism didn’t keep me from using this weapon, however. The priests in Keiost had been more eager than most, even freely giving us information on taking the walled city. Even before we showed our might, many of the populace in the surrounding towns and countryside pledged the sacred vows of fealty without hesitation. And most in the plaza had followed in those steps, messengers reported as we walked, the lines passing out the gates of the plaza. Soon they’d receive their portion of the treasure, money that had likely been theirs to begin with. But only after that. No temptation of gold should sway their hearts.
I’d give it all to them, the tainted gains that might as well be smeared in blood. But a ragtag army of peasants and slaves, along with a newly acquired, haphazard navy of fishing boats, all needed to be provisioned. Governor Slug’s hoard would go a long way toward ensuring that end.
Still, we wouldn’t need so much if we’d only kept the strike force small. I didn’t need a full navy to take out Anure. I’d argued this all along. Assassins could accomplish what armies couldn’t. “Should’ve kept it small.”
“Kept what small?” Sondra asked, giving me the side-eye, making me aware I’d muttered that aloud.
“This.” I waved a hand at the sky showing through the ceiling of the half-destroyed corridor. “All this to kill one man. Could’ve done it with a small strike force.”
“Fifteen fugitives can’t sail a ship to the heart of the empire and hope to penetrate the Imperial Citadel. We’ve been through this,” Sondra replied, unruffled.
“Could’ve paid passage. Cheaper. Lower-profile.”
She shrugged in her inimitable way. “One day you’ll stop fighting it, Conrí.”
“What?”
“You’re a king. It falls naturally to you to rule. Kingdoms come to you whether you ask for them or not. It’s meant. It’s Sawehl’s will, Conrí.”
I set my teeth. Sondra loved to get under my skin, especially in pursuit of her favorite topic. She also shamelessly took advantage of my not wanting to waste breath telling her not to call me that—or explaining that I was no king. Certainly not the one she imagined in her blind optimism. “I don’t want it.”
She stopped, blocking the passage and glaring at me as she did only when we were alone. “Tell me, Conrí. What do you want—after Anure is dead at your feet?”
She’d never asked me that. I’d always thought she understood that speaking of that impossible future was off the table. We shared a vow of vengeance, a determination to reach a single, finite goal. Nothing beyond that existed. I frowned at her, but she didn’t flinch. Instead she studied me, brilliant eyes somber, as if she hadn’t known me since I was a boy.
“You could be emperor in his stead,” she said.
It made me laugh, the surprise of it. The sheer ridiculousness that she’d even speak it aloud. The creaking guffaw burst against my ribs, straining from long disuse. I sounded like a dog that had barked and howled itself hoarse from misery, flinging itself against the chains it couldn’t break.
She raised an inquiring eyebrow. The expression twisted her scarred skin, her lovely hair gleaming like sunshine in the half-light. I choked back the laugh.
“No,” I managed. “Never.”
“You’d be a good ruler. Far better than he. Do you have other plans?”
“Of course not. That goal…” It would take too many words to explain, and the speech in the plaza had taken too much of my voice.