“But Avery is gone. I told you, he is heading to the king right now.”
“Unlikely,” Ephitel said. “I suspect he’s safe in the hands of my loyal dwarves.”
Corin shook his head, showing his genuine surprise. “How did you win the loyalty of dwarves?” In my time, they hate your name.
“Bought and sold,” Ephitel said, while he primed another shot. “They’re hungry little curs, and I had food.”
“You used your soldiers’ rations? How did you feed the regiments?”
Ephitel laughed. “They are all enterprising men. I let them feed themselves.”
Just like a Vestossi, Corin thought. This is how tyrants reason. He pretended surprise. “Does that not risk the anger of the farmers?”
Ephitel sneered. “What do I care for some manling’s ire?”
“But Oberon—”
“He’s lost his grip,” Ephitel said. “That’s the beauty of my plan. I bought the resources I need with rations Oberon gave me, from dwarves made desperate for food by choices Oberon has made.”
“What choices?”
“You don’t know? Oh yes, you are a manling outside time.” He laughed. “Oberon always feared the dwarves. He feared the change that comes with guns and cannons. He feared their powder would lead to another yesterworld.”
“But isn’t he the creator? Why make dwarves if he feared them?”
“Make dwarves? Ha! Only manlings can be made. He brought the dwarves, and he brought them because he needed their artifice to build Hurope. He hoped to limit their threat by limiting their numbers. He embargoed trade in food and left them hungry, or I never could have bought the powder that will end Oberon’s reign. There’s a pleasing poetry, don’t you think?”
“I’ll call it treachery and nothing else,” Corin said. “Even with the gun, how can you hope to beat a god?”
Ephitel hesitated. His gaze flicked toward the cavern, and Corin realized he’d made a mistake. He’d hoped to learn some of the prince’s plans, but he’d reminded him about the sword.
“Where has your Violet gone off to?”
Corin’s mind raced, desperate to find some other distraction, but he could think of nothing.
Kellen moved. He’d stopped screaming some time ago, and now he struggled to his feet. He had to use the wall to support his weight, leaning awkwardly against it as he forced himself up in erratic jerks. His right arm hung limp, the sleeve soaked with blood. Corin started over to him to offer aid, but Ephitel said, “No. Stand where you are.”
Corin would not have obeyed him, even with that terrible gun trained on him, but Ephitel now aimed at Kellen. When he saw Corin’s complacency, the prince nodded. “I want to see what Kellen has become.”
A hero, Corin thought. Every motion clearly pained him, but the yeoman held his feet, burying his agony behind an arrogant stare for Ephitel. He risked his life to buy a bit more time for Avery.
“I am only what I’ve always been,” Kellen said. His voice was weak and ragged. “I am my father’s son, and I am loyal to the king.”
Ephitel spat. “You are a coward who has never bloodied his inherited blade. I should have dismissed you long ago.”
Kellen held the prince’s eyes. “I have bloodied it now. I felled three of your men upstairs before some…some coward threw a blanket over me.” He grinned, relishing the word. “You have stained my name in all Gesoelig because I hesitate to steal a farmer’s food. Because I hesitate to beat your enemies to death. Because I’m loyal to the king and to the law. But I will not hesitate to fight your treachery. I will spend my life defying you.”
With his head to one side, Ephitel stared at the yeoman. “You really mean it, don’t you? Well. Your father would be proud. I never thought I’d say that to a Kellen.”
Kellen groaned, sinking lower down the wall as his strength faded. Ephitel chuckled. “So very like your father. Did you know I killed him, too?”
Kellen’s eyes went wide, though from surprise or pain, Corin didn’t know. The yeoman sucked a ragged breath and wheezed. “You did not. He died a hero. In the Pyren Pass. You were at the siege of Old Maedred.”
Ephitel nodded. “Playing cards and drinking tea. It is a boring task, sitting a siege.”
Kellen shook his head. “No. You warred against the heathens—”
Ephitel smiled. “We watched the heathens. We sat and waited while they starved. And when reinforcements tried to come by the Pyren Pass—”
Kellen sobbed, sinking farther down the wall. He was bent double now, every breath a labor.
Ephitel’s grin widened as he watched the yeoman