criminals? Your Majesty, they are not worthy of you.’
‘Well, Griff, she has you square,’ remarked the King to the brigand. ‘Emily, we live in difficult times now. The Crown cannot be so discerning as it once was when choosing its chiefest servants. Those who will come to me shall serve, if they be willing. I shall not turn a man away if he will act for me.’
‘Even if his motives are no more than avoiding prosecution for his crimes?’ She was aware that she had left off the ‘Your Majesty’, but was reluctant to go back and replace it.
‘His motives now are to serve the Crown, Emily, whatever else he may think. He will find his meanest action turned to purest gold if it be in service to his King. If I made it my wish, surely you would not turn from me if I asked you to take him as your brother? I cannot think that a woman such as you places conditions on her loyalty.’
‘Of course not, Your Majesty.’
He smiled again, and all was well.
‘Then we must plan, must we not? When I leave here for Gosthorn, I must leave a plan behind, that you must carry out. The Denlanders must be harried like the quarry of a hunt. They must be chased and run ragged. Tell me what you think would be best for these fellows here. I value your opinion.’
Hanging would be best for them, Your Majesty. Now was the time to make her case, though. She had thought she must overawe some youth or order around some veteran. Now she saw she must convince the King himself.
‘Your Majesty will be pleased, I hope, that I have already put some thought into this matter.’
‘How could I doubt it?’ he said. ‘You are a faithful servant. Surely action against the Denlanders is seldom far from your mind.’
‘Your Majesty may not know, but you have a great and faithful servant in Chalcaster already, and one who would transform your rebellion here from a mere gathering of thieves to a real and savage threat to Denlander occupation.’
The King raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Of whom do you speak? Let us hear it.’
‘The man is Giles Scavian, Your Majesty, and he is one of Your Majesty’s Warlocks.’
The King nodded seriously. ‘Indeed, I recall the man.’
‘Alas, Your Majesty, he is in the hands of the enemy.’ Emily’s words killed outright the murmur of interest that had started about the fire. The King himself nodded gravely.
‘Poor soul,’ he said softly. ‘I was told as much. It’s a wonder they’ve not killed him yet.’
‘They will, Your Majesty. Tomorrow, as I believe. He is held in the cells beneath the governor’s office. I myself have seen the place. He is as faithful a servant of the Crown as you could ever wish for. I’ve never met one more devoted. Surely it’s our duty to free him, in order to join the fight?’
The men about the fire began muttering at that, for assaulting the governor’s palace was hardly in their line of work. Men like Griff and Balfor, they were opportunists forced into outlawry by Lascanne law, then to rebellion by the harsher laws of Denland. She saw on their faces that this was not what they had signed up for, when they took this late-offered King’s service.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said, ‘please . . .’
‘It is a bold proposal, Emily, and I love you for it. It shows the spirit I have been seeking all over this land.’ His smile grew seamlessly apologetic. ‘But I cannot countenance it. We must harry the Denlanders, wear them down, weary them. To strike so swiftly at their heart would expose our strength too fully and too soon.’ There was no suggestion that the King’s will could not accomplish the feat she requested. He simply found other excuses for not attempting it.
‘But, Your Majesty, with a Warlock to fight for you . . . ?’
‘Of course, the Warlocks have always been the principal servants of the Crown,’ he agreed. ‘Once free, this fellow Scavian would be an asset most valuable in the rebellion against Denland. I say again, though, I cannot countenance making the strike to free him. It is too public, too fraught with risk. But your heart is rightly placed, Emily. I must have Warlocks to serve me.’
‘Your Majesty?’
The King grinned at her, so lively and full of fire that she found herself grinning back. ‘Why, Emily, am I not the King? Does not ancient blood run