was some frustration that it had been done by another, despite King Emin’s assurances that his end would have been painful. What more did she want? What more could she ask for?
Nothing. There is nothing more, she realised. All I can do now is ensure his deeds do not define me any more than they must.
— Thank you. How many sisters? she forced herself to write, ignoring the unsteadiness of the script.
To Emin’s credit he continued with only a questioning look at her expression. ‘As many as possible, more than we can manage,’ he said. ‘Some will have to leave today — we are limited by the distances involved — but some of Uncle Anversis’ colleagues have faster methods of communication so we may be able to hire mercenaries, if nothing else. There is an additional matter, however. Doranei has reported preachers being sent out by the child, Ruhen. They are now secondary targets.’
— Does it suspect?
‘There is no indication of that,’ Emin said, his worry-lines deepening at the suggestion. ‘The reports we’re getting suggest Harlequins are laying the foundations for these preachers, adding legitimacy to what will follow. The agents I have here and those easily contacted will be sent furthest afield.’ Emin picked up a sheet from the pile of paper his uncle had been making notes on. ‘This designates the place and the local contact. The particular agents will be assigned here, and the page will be encoded and copied before it leaves this room.’
— When do you need my sisters?
‘We will send them in groups; I need the first ready in two days.’ The king took another piece of paper proffered by his uncle and scanned it before showing it to Legana. ‘This is the first; do you have enough to fill these?’
Legana squinted at the page. The scribbled characters were hard to read, but she was able at least to make out the number of lines involved. She nodded.
‘Send them to Dashain tomorrow morning. She will assign positions and give the contact names. Hopefully you will not have to remind them how skilled the targets are; they are not to be given any sort of chance, or drawn into a fair fight.’
King Emin paused and gave her a long, hard look. ‘I’m taking a great risk in trusting so much to your sisters. Are you certain of their loyalty? I don’t have a contingency plan here; my forces are stretched too thin.’
— It will be done.
The look in her eyes was chilling. It reminded Emin of Larat wearing his sister’s face. There was no place for uncertainty in a God’s mind, and Doranei had described Legana as uncompromising when she was just mortal. The current combination was not a comforting one. As he ordered murder to be done, Emin found himself hoping he wouldn’t be the one to find out how far Legana was prepared to go.
CHAPTER 18
‘Count Vesna,’ Lesarl called from the massive stone stair that led to the Great Hall, ‘where exactly do you think you are going?’
Vesna wheeled his horse around and stared with some incomprehension at the Chief Steward. All around him the soldiers hesitated, sensing something cutting through the tension in the air. Vesna was surrounded by a hundred men of the Palace Guard, now in the process of forming up around a small party of officers.
‘What are you talking about? You heard the message too!’ he shouted back.
Half the palace had heard the man shouting as he raced into the Great Hall to deliver his message to Sir Cerse, and they had all exploded into action at the news.
‘Yes, Vesna, I heard it only too well — which is exactly why you should not be going anywhere.’
Vesna gaped. ‘What in the Dark Place are you talking about? We’ve got soldiers under siege at the Brewer’s Gate, man — men of the Ghosts!’
Lesarl sighed theatrically and folded his arms, looking down at Vesna as though he was just a foolish child. ‘I know you men of action get excited easily, but think it through a moment. Go back to the source of the problem.’
Vesna turned to his companions on horseback, Sir Cerse, Swordmasters Pettir and Cosep, and a bearded captain of the Ghosts called Kurrest. From the bemused expressions on their faces, he guessed none of them had a clue what the Chief Steward was talking about. Vesna’s horse, a black hunter with padded barding covering its flanks and a steel chest-guard, tossed its head impatiently, refusing to stay still