The Burning White (Lightbringer #5) - Brent Weeks Page 0,315

greater good when you joined the Order?” Cruxer asked, his voice raw.

“I thought so,” Ironfist admitted. “Things were different then. The Order was just a tiny regional power halfway across the world from here. And they were the only ones who could save my sister. I thought I could keep my vows to them and to the Blackguard—I was all the way over here!”

“Our Blackguard vows include renouncing all other vows. And reporting them.”

“I was a kid! I made a mistake. You’re telling me you’re perfect, Cruxer? You’ve never made any mistakes? I seem to remember different.”

“You’re right,” Cruxer said, his face haggard. “I loved Lucia, and I got her killed. But I decided not to compromise my integrity ever again, and that’s the difference between us.”

Cruxer wasn’t taking his eyes off him. The young man was totally keyed up. And if Ironfist remembered his speed correctly, Cruxer was well within killing distance. Any wrong move Ironfist made was going to end badly. “Son, you have to believe me. I’m here to do the right thing.”

“Through treason and murder?”

“I know it looks bad. It’s a stratagem.”

“That the orange revealed to you,” Cruxer said.

Ironfist felt pierced through. He’d lied to Cruxer already, and the young man had seen through it. If he was caught in one more lie, this would be over. “Yes,” he said softly. “It’s for the greater—”

“Say ‘the greater good’ one more fucking time!”

“Easy, easy. Cruxer, please . . .”

“We’re soldiers! We’re guardians! That’s who we are. We obey! The greater good isn’t for men like you and me to decide!”

“Son, sometimes you still don’t know your ass from your elbow. A man never gets to put his conscience in someone else’s care. Every one of us has to decide what the greater good is.”

Cruxer’s face hardened, and Ironfist knew he’d made a mistake. Cruxer said, “You come upstairs with me now. You cancel the execution and I’ll let them decide what to do with you.”

“I can’t do that. We have to play this my way.”

“Oh, we do?” Cruxer said, stepping forward.

“Yes! Dammit, Cruxer, stay back!”

If Cruxer attacked, he’d lunge with that sword, but Ironfist wasn’t exactly unarmed. People saw the heavy chain on his arm and thought of it as costuming, or a slow offensive weapon if he unslung it. But as it was, tight from wrist to elbow to shoulder, it could also make a bit of a shield.

Ironfist said, “I’m here for Gavin Guile. My contacts told me he’s here. Locked up in a special cell beneath the Chromeria. There’s a hidden entrance out here. I can save him. I’m the only man on earth who can save Gavin Guile.”

“Really? He’s been here all this time?” Cruxer said, scoffing. “Fine, then! Let’s go upstairs, tell Karris.”

“We can’t. The Old Man’s here. If he gets word—and he will!—if he even suspects what I’m planning, he’ll kill Gavin before we can move.”

“Oh, the Old Man of the Desert himself? Him, too? This gets more convoluted by the moment, doesn’t it? But then, lies do that, don’t they?”

“The Old Man’ll be at the execution. I have from now until then to save Gavin Guile, and you are burning precious time here, son.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Cruxer’s eyes.

“We need Gavin Guile or we’re doomed. He’s the Lightbringer,” Ironfist said.

“No, he’s not,” Cruxer said.

“He drafted white luxin at the siege of Garriston. I saw it. I have a piece of it. Here in my bag. I can show you!”

“Don’t you pull anything from that bag! You think I’m an idiot?”

“Cruxer, you know me. Let me explain.”

“Toss me the pistol bag.”

“I’m not tossing you my bag. Just—I will move so slowly. You have every advantage—”

“Slowly. That’s the key, isn’t it? I know something about will-casting now, Commander. Takes a few minutes to will-cast a person if you don’t want them to notice, doesn’t it? You’re doing it to me right now, aren’t you? Bet you’ve got orange seed crystal in there, huh?”

“No, no!” Will-casting?

“Then why are you stalling?”

“Because you’re right on the edge and I don’t want either of us to die for no reason!” Only then did Ironfist realize he’d just lied, sort of. But he wasn’t will-casting with the orange seed crystal. He didn’t even know if he could do that.

He did have it on him, though, barely tucked out of sight in the neckline of his tunic, and if Cruxer saw it, he was going to think Iron-fist was lying about everything else, too.

But as sweat trickled