The Black Prism - By Brent Weeks Page 0,269

Garriston was to him was a chance to take a victory from us, and frame you for murdering a satrap so he could mobilize people to fight you. What he wants is to destroy the Chromeria. He wants to drive out the belief in Orholam and set up a new order. And we don’t even know what that new order is yet.”

“So let’s rephrase ‘defeat’ as ‘crushing defeat,’ huh?” Gavin knew he was being childish, but Corvan was the only person around whom he could complain. It felt good to have his friend back.

“We have to get ready for war,” Corvan said. “A bigger war than over one little city.”

“You think people are going to join him?”

“In droves,” Corvan said. “My daughter did, and she’s not stupid. So we have to believe he’s charismatic, and we’ve already seen that he’s smart enough to defeat us and get all he wants. So we have to look at what we have, and prepare.”

“I’m sorry she joined him, Corvan. She seemed like such a sensible girl. I should have watched out for her better while she was—”

“She is a sensible girl. I’m not worried about her. She’ll come back,” Corvan said. There was an edge on his voice, as well there should be. He was trying to convince himself too. But Gavin knew not to push it.

“So what do we have?” Gavin asked.

“We have you and me. We got Karris back and Kip back and Ironfist back, when we could have easily lost all three. We have the devotion, loyalty, awe, and motivation of thirty thousand people who now believe in Gavin Guile to the core of their souls. I call that the start of an army. You’re the Prism. How is some pagan king going to stand up to you?”

Gavin laughed, because both of them knew that there were about a thousand ways. It was also a little scary, how Corvan thought. How he saw through things. Gavin would have to be careful. There are things you can’t tell even your best friend. Great purposes best achieved by misdirection.

Pensive, Gavin said, “You know, I came up with a list of things I want to accomplish before I die, and the best thing on that list was to free Garriston. What I let happen there after the war was… I don’t know if it’s the worst thing I’ve done, that’s a crowded field, but I let what was happening in Garriston keep happening. For sixteen years. With all my power, I could never get the Spectrum to stop it.”

“I knew a man once who had a knack of changing the rules when he couldn’t win. He didn’t give up when others said he’d already lost,” Corvan said. “So… Garriston is a collection of ramshackle buildings with indefensible walls.”

“So I built new walls, I changed the rules. I tried, Corvan! I lost!” Gavin grimaced, light dawning. “Oh, and you’re going to say next, ‘You lost a collection of ramshackle buildings.’ And I’m going to say, ‘Yes! We’ve established that.’ And you’re going to point out that when I decided to free Garriston, I probably wasn’t worried about the misery of the buildings, but the misery of the people.”

“And then I’ll point out that all those people you wanted to free are here. And then you’ll admit my superior wisdom.”

Gavin laughed. In some moments, it was like a day hadn’t passed since they’d been separated. “Well, we know one of those things isn’t going to happen.”

Corvan grinned. He was right, though. “So,” he said, “go out there and smile, and pat your soldiers on the back, and act like an emperor with a great purpose before him—a promachos who will accomplish that great purpose. You have freed these people. You are going to protect them, and you will give them a new home. You will give them justice. And they’re going to help you.”

“Sometimes I think you should have been the leader, not me,” Gavin said.

“Me too,” Corvan said. He grinned. “Orholam’s ways are mysterious. In some cases, very mysterious.”

“Thanks,” Gavin said. Then they laughed together. It felt good. Food for a hungry soul.

“By the by, how’s your back? I could’ve sworn that little weasel stabbed you. Kip’s being hailed as a hero for stopping him, you know.”

“He got him right in the nick of time, I guess,” Gavin said, though he must have taken a shot in the kidney from the boy’s fist as Kip had tackled him, because he had felt a searing

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