The Burning White (Lightbringer #5) - Brent Weeks Page 0,370

Ulbear might do together. By tradition, such rule changes are required to have contingencies, in case an unforeseen emergency requires it, so Ulbear proposed a contingency that simply seemed outrageous. If two family members wished to sit in such high offices simultaneously—which at the time only applied to Ulbear and Orea—they had to supply one of their own children for the Prism sacrifice.”

And then Gavin saw it coming, like the windup to a gut punch, when his arms were bound and there was no defending himself.

The man went on. “Father didn’t even learn who’d pushed that rule through for years. No one thought it would apply to anyone but Ulbear Rathcore ever again. He resigned to let Orea join the Spectrum, thereby cementing the precedent, binding it into law and tradition both.

“But for father’s plans, Gavin had to be made Prism, and father could only protect him if he himself were on the Spectrum, too. Father believed that the prophecies indicated he could only become the Lightbringer if he were the promachos first. So the price for father’s ambition—and, he thought, the price to save the whole world—was that he sacrifice his sons. One to die after his term as Prism, and one . . .”

And then Gavin remembered it again, vividly. That wound on his little brother’s chest. A single thrust, at an angle that had always seemed wrong. It wasn’t the perpendicular angle of an intruder stabbing a child lying flat in his bed. It was an angle downward, through the ribs to the heart. As if the child had knelt before an adult, submissive to the blade.

“Father could only fully save one of his sons,” Sevastian said, gently, as the dying sun finally touched the horizon. “He chose you.”

Chapter 114

Karris watched the pagan armada approaching her beloved isles from her balcony. Her young luxiats, many of them now trained in rudimentary battlefield medicine, were awaiting her orders for where to deploy. She would be joining them as soon as the battle began in earnest with a large contingent of Blackguards. They would be medics and helpers to any civilians caught up in the fighting, doing the unseen work of making war slightly less hellish.

Then, if they saw a place where they were needed, she and the Blackguards could at least give one hammer blow of reinforcement.

She had a slim hope that that wouldn’t be necessary today.

“High Lady,” one of Karris’s room slaves said, a young woman, round and shy. “The new Prism has taken the roof and installed himself on the balancing array. He’s, he’s using the mirrors to kill people.”

That answered the question of where the hell Zymun was, though it wasn’t the answer she wanted. “Well, that’s a relief.”

The girl looked ill. “Yes? . . . But . . . he seems not very careful in who he’s burning? He’s laughing, Mistress. He cut through our lines, must have killed a dozen men. Just said oops, and laughed and laughed. He’s talking to someone who isn’t there. He’s bragging that even the immortals serve him now.”

“Have the Blackguards seen this?” Karris asked. Though no current Blackguard had ever done it, they were sworn to kill Prisms if they became a danger. Not that any Blackguard would expect to have to do it on a Prism’s first day.

“No, Mistress. They’re all stationed farther out, as if he doesn’t trust them. Only the Lightguards are near him.”

So they might not know.

Karris cursed under her breath, but it was loud enough to further scare the young girl, who had some idea of the gravity of the situation she’d found herself in.

As she tucked pistols into her waistband behind her back, Karris said, “Why don’t you go to your quarters for a while? Go see your friends or family. It may not be safe for you here.”

The Blackguards were sworn to the Prism first of all. Technically, they had an equal duty to the White, but if Karris initiated violence and they didn’t believe Zymun was mad . . . they would put down the threat. Many of the old hands hated Zymun and would want to side with Karris, but what would they think their duty was? And what would the new kids do?

Karris rolled her neck and checked her ataghan and the old scorpion held tight against her forearm. She was resplendent in her white-and-gold silk directly over her mirror-armor breastplate. It was the only practical part of her armor. She had no helm at all; instead