The Burning White (Lightbringer #5) - Brent Weeks Page 0,43

gambling that you’ll take the deal where we both win, both in the short term and in the long.”

“What do you want?” he asked.

“You can have all the lands of the Seven Satrapies. The nine kingdoms, whatever you wish to call them. You may also have all of the Cerulean Sea. The Everdark Gates, however, will belong to neither of us. A no-man’s-land. Everything within them is yours; everything outside them is mine. No people, no magic, not so much as a rowboat or letter or child is to be sent from one realm to the other. We’ll have mirrors set up on either side to message each other in case of emergencies. Otherwise, nothing. If you wish, have your wars among your humans. Let there be peace between the gods.”

Chapter 12

Kip had just done the most brilliant and cynical thing of his entire political career: he’d listened to his wife.

Yesterday, in the privy council chamber, they’d met with the six remaining Divines. With many, many words, the Divines communicated their chagrin at the assassination attempt and commitment to find those responsible. They wished—they said—to help Kip and his marvelous companions in any way possible; therefore, he must understand that this particular refusal wasn’t personal and this particular request was in fact impossible and this small change Kip requested was one they were quite willing to accommodate but would mortally offend some other important group (and that group’s support was necessary for the following list of reasons).

Yesterday, for many long minutes, Kip had actually listened to them. They knew what they were talking about, after all. They had run this city for generations. He’d adjourned the meeting with the thought that it was, frankly, just damned hard to govern a city.

“. . . which sadly has, from time immemorial, been the prerogative of the Keeper herself.”

‘Prerogative.’ The word had stuck to Kip for some reason. Not because it was that odd of a word but because of the landscape of other words used by these old men (never an old woman on the Council of Divines, at least not that survived into the records). ‘Prerogative’ joined ‘tradition’ and ‘customs’ and even ‘demesne,’ the violation of any of which would either ‘needlessly cause terrible offense’ or ‘deeply alienate’ or ‘create antipathy’ or ‘endanger all you’ve accomplished.’

The circumlocutions suddenly sounded familiar, strumming an old and much-hated chord from his past: Kip was being handled.

Mother used to do this, with her drugs, listing all the reasons it was impossible to quit just now.

Power was the Divines’ drug, and Kip was threatening their supply.

What would you do here, father? he’d asked himself.

How had Gavin done it? All Gavin’s life, he’d broken through all the horseshit like this, upending other people’s games and yet emerging not only unscathed but beloved.

Well, let’s see: He was basically all-powerful, and he cajoled, charmed, and used wit and humor to take the edge off of whatever he was going to do anyway. Plus he was incredibly handsome, which never hurt. Oh, and when people defied him, sometimes he’d kill all of them.

So no one went into a meeting with Gavin Guile entirely fearlessly, which meant that when he was charming instead, and told them how it was going to be, most people found themselves nodding along, or even laughing along, admitting it was all for the best.

Kip wasn’t all those things, but maybe, between emulating his father and his grandfather, he might be enough.

That was why Kip had gone to the window and waved to the crowd. But that hadn’t been a full plan, only an intuition of one.

While the old men were conferring with one another again yesterday, Kip had said to the Mighty, ‘I want to turtle-bear their porcelain shop and give the old Divines a heart attack or three. Ideas?’

‘Oh, I have ideas!’ Big Leo said.

‘Ripping people’s arms off is not an idea,’ Kip said. ‘It’s a daydream.’

‘You didn’t even let me tell you what I’d do with them,’ Big Leo complained.

‘I didn’t say I didn’t share it,’ Kip said. Morning had expired, and with his realization that he was being handled, so had his patience. ‘Also Lord Golden Briar has the worst breath I’ve ever smelled.’

‘You’re telling me that’s his breath?’ Ben-hadad asked. ‘I thought—’

‘Gentlemen,’ Cruxer said as the men came back.

‘Yeah, we don’t know if they’re all deaf,’ Ferkudi said, too loudly. ‘I’ve been watching, and Lord Appleton is faking that old-man shuffle.’

Lord Appleton looked over.

‘They’re none of them dumb, either,’ Kip said, carefully