the alliances, the loans. The Ikaras bank was very insistent on certain terms being met, you see and—”
“All those things will still be needed, and the terms met. There’s enough of the gold left to, ahem, persuade a councillor or two to side with you. But with the prelate weakened, your position becomes stronger, our plans less risky. Far better than hanging the culprits and losing any clue to what the prelate is planning against you. A brilliant plan of Lord Egimont’s, don’t you agree?”
Licio looked like he was still trying to work it all out but managed a compliment, watching Sabates for his reaction all the while. “Yes, yes, I think so. Maybe next time, Egimont, I could be informed beforehand though? Your king would appreciate it.”
This last was said in the sort of patronising tone most people reserve for pets and small children. If any other man had used that manner with him, Egimont would have called him out, taken him to the duelling guild and settled it like gentlemen. Not something one could do with a king who’d seemed fair and generous and turned out to be naïve at best. Not something you could do with a king at all, if you wanted to keep your head.
Sabates interrupted smoothly before Egimont could make any comment he might later regret.
“But of course, your highness. We just don’t want to bother you with little details.”
Licio settled down a little. “Good. Well, maybe you can go through the papers and find out what’s missing, Sabates. And Egimont, shouldn’t you be off chasing your little peasant thieves?”
With that the king turned on his heel and left. When the door had shut behind him, Sabates said, as though to the air, “What an insufferable prick. Sort through his papers – I’m a magician, not a filing clerk!”
He turned to Egimont and they shared a look. “Neither are you,” Sabates said. “Or you shouldn’t be. Why are you working at the prelate’s office?”
“Because my father thought it would be beneficial to show willing with the new government.” A small lie, but one that might suffice.
Sabates tapped his fingers on the table and narrowed his eyes. Egimont wondered if he knew how much of a lie it was. “Ah yes, your dear departed father. An interesting case. I’m surprised he had time to say anything, considering. And do you regret following his advice?”
Odd, the look on Sabates’ face. He seemed as implacable and unreadable as ever, but there was something else there. Some eagerness behind the eyes. And his hands – Egimont found his gaze drawn ever more to the hands, to the patterns on them, ever changing, ever shifting in trails of blood red. The patterns moved from a noose to a crown to crossed swords.
Egimont frowned, perturbed, but couldn’t take his eyes from them. Didn’t want to. They made him want to spill his soul, and he couldn’t muster a glib lie. “Yes. Not at first, of course. Not for a long time. I believed in the prelate, utterly. He saved my life once, promised me everything if only I would do as he asked, showed the whole country that he was fair to ex-nobles, that his new regime was fair to everyone.”
“And then?”
The crossed swords in Sabates’ hands faded away to nothing, but still Egimont couldn’t seem to stop.
“The guild. He promised it to me, promised that one day I would be the guild master and run it for him, the way he wanted, orderly, like clockwork. An anachronism, he called the guild, a throwback to the old, chaotic ways, and he hated it as much as I did. And then…” He trailed off – it was all still too raw and complicated, even with the patterned hands drawing him on. “He betrayed me, he betrayed everyone,” he finished at last. No need for details – for a man like Egimont, brought up to believe in honour and duty, betrayal was enough. Bakar had forgotten his promise of the guild, had meant it as no more than a throwaway remark perhaps, but Petri hadn’t forgotten. Petri couldn’t forget.
“And then Licio offered you a way to get the revenge you craved? You didn’t care what sort of man he was, as long as you got that revenge. You’re very similar to me in many ways, Lord Egimont. Many ways.” Sabates” glance was sharper than knives.
“And what about you?” Egimont wasn’t sure where the question had come from, only that it burned in