wants what . . . he thinks . . . is best for the Duchy . . . and I plan to establish some dialogue with him about that. In the meantime, we are not at war.”
“We are at war,” said the prince, “or might as well be. Saergaeth isn’t going to stop until he’s sitting on your throne. I really thought you’d be clever enough to grasp that.”
Caliph looked directly at the prince. “Would you like to apologize now or later?”
The room collectively caught its breath.
Mortiman simpered, “Your majesty . . . this really isn’t the place . . .” His smile was insincere and his tone glib. “Besides, without me . . . Saergaeth will lay siege to Isca by autumn.”
The crowd waited, watching as Caliph found his words.
“Assuming that were true, you’d be dead or conquered by then. It’s not really in your interest to advise me on what follows, is it?”
The crowd gasped.
Everyone knew what Caliph meant. The notion that Mortiman was more of a queen than a prince was old news. Likewise, the fact that Saergaeth held the prince in contempt on account of his preferences had been widely recognized for years. But that Caliph was brash enough to expose Mortiman’s posturing with artillery based on such sensitive trivia actually seemed to impress many of the more reptilian burgomasters.
Mortiman had no real choice in his allies. If he wanted to stay Prince of Tentinil he had to side with Caliph Howl.
Caliph hardened his gaze but tempered his voice with genuine sincerity. “I don’t want to alienate you. I respect your doubts . . . in me. If you didn’t have doubts, it would mean somehow that you didn’t care about Stonehold. But don’t ever speak to me like that again.”
“Majesty—” Yrisl whispered.
“You advise me,” Caliph raised his palm, “never interrupt me.” He let the same hand he had raised fall slowly to rest on the pommel of his sword—it was the only weapon allowed in the chamber and a solid reminder of his unquestionable power in this place.
The Blue General of Isca raised his eyebrows and fell silent.
Caliph stood up and faced the assemblage. “I’m well aware I’m not the king many of you wish I was. I’ve had no opportunity to stand in the shadow of a real king and watch him work. But I have spent the past eight years learning about Stonehold. Learning about you.
“I have a sound grasp of this city’s laws and I know there are a host of outdated, still-viable punishments able to be handed down for insulting a High King.”
He smiled softly as the audience went pale. They were gauging now, how they could explain away the hasty remarks, cast their unforgivable sauciness in a better light by adding meaning and rationale after the fact.
“I’m insulted.
“But I’m also patient.” He looked at the prince. “If any of you doubt me, I respect that. I will earn your trust. I will secure Stonehold’s future. And I will do that, hopefully, by not choosing war. I will not choose war. If war comes, that will be Saergaeth’s choice.”
After the silence ebbed in, Lewis was the first to speak. “Forgive me, your majesty.” He bowed slightly and began to clap.
Whether they felt he deserved it or not, everyone else followed suit.
After that, the meeting broke up. Whispers slithered between the burgomasters but by and large Caliph had come out on top. At a different time or place his words might have turned the same audience against him.
But this had been a critical moment. Caliph knew that Stonehold needed a decisive leader. With less unified military power than most northern countries, the High King of Stonehold had to exude power from his pores. He could not flinch in the face of overwhelming or unknowable odds.
He heard the whispers but in their own draconian way he sensed that the burgomasters were pleased. Yrisl had warned him beforehand that many of them were dreading this audience, distressed by the possibility of a meeting with an academic milquetoast fresh from Desdae’s idealistic lecture halls.
Everyone was crowding toward the door, drawn down a series of staircases and passageways by an alluring smell that propagated from the kitchen. The Blue General met them at the exit and fed them the usual lies for good measure.
“Everything will be answered in due time. We’ll call you back once this [completely absurd, fatuous] meeting has been assessed and compared with intelligence reports from the field.”