is doomed to failure. The Corsairs have nothing, they are already destroyed. The Sultan can deal with the Loups-Garous himself, and as for the Haun—’
‘We came this close to losing,’ cried Oliver, his hands held up in despair. ‘This close. Don’t you understand? You say there is no weakness in the Sultan’s court. Well, that may be so now, but what about tomorrow? Or next year? What about when the Sultan dies? Abdallah ash-Shiekh loves your father, my Lord, and rightly so – your father is an extraordinary man. But what about the Sultan’s successors, and the successors of all those kings Jon has so carefully fêted? Will they love him? Will they tolerate him? Your father is a man who bows to no church, while all those others use religion like a whip to keep their people in line. He is a man who refuses to allow slavery, when slavery benefits the economy of all around him. We cannot always rely on the tolerance of these stronger men, my Lord! We cannot! We are small and vulnerable, and your father’s beautiful view of the world makes us a thorn in the side of everyone but God!’ He dropped his hands, his eyes full. ‘And I don’t care what the priests told us when we were young: God lends no hand to the weak in this world, though he may love them in the next. In this world we must make ourselves strong, that we may battle the wicked and protect the good.’
Oliver closed his eyes suddenly. His emotion was such that it moved even those who could not understand him, and the surrounding warriors stood in respectful silence while he gathered himself.
‘I am faithful to your father, Razi,’ he continued softly. ‘I love him. But I am angry that he let things come so close. I will never understand why, having such a wonderful invention to hand, he did not draw out Lorcan’s machine and end the insurrection sooner. Your brother was furious when he found out.’ Oliver smiled fondly. ‘God help us, but the Prince is a remarkable young man. If you could see him at the war table! From the moment your father let him partake in battle, Alberon exhibited such clarity of vision, such understanding of men. He amazes me. Your father calls him his little Alexander.’
‘But he does not need to go this far,’ whispered Razi. ‘He does not need to bring filth like David Le Garou to his table, nor ally himself so irretrievably to a canker like Marguerite Shirken.’
Oliver looked briefly into Razi’s eyes and away again. ‘I . . . perhaps . . . I don’t know.’ He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his weary face. ‘I’m just a soldier, my Lord; these are things I do not understand. The Prince could well have done with your advice on them. But . . .’ He shook his head and looked away into the rapidly gathering twilight. ‘I do not know what to do,’ he whispered.
Razi put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Help me talk to him, Oliver,’ he insisted softly. ‘That is all you need do. Help me talk to him, and I will make this work.’
THE MUSIC OF MEMORY
‘WHERE ARE you going?’ Christopher caught Wynter by the elbow, stopping her from following Oliver down the alley.
She flicked a glance to Razi. He had drawn Úlfnaor aside and was engaged in a low, secretive conversation. ‘I want to ask Oliver something,’ she whispered. ‘I will only be a moment.’
‘You ain’t going on your own. I’ll come with you.’
‘No, love,’ she said, laying her hand on his chest. ‘The Loups-Garous may still be out there and I do not want you to have to face them. I will be all right.’
He frowned at her in irritated disbelief. ‘Are you deranged?’ he snapped. ‘Come on.’
He shooed her up the alley, and they made their way into the noise and waning sunshine of the thoroughfare. By the supply tent, there was a dark patch of ground where the young Haun had died. Already the sharp outline of his blood had been smudged by the passage of feet and the drifting of dust from the busy road. Scuff marks showed where the soldiers had dragged his body away. Wynter came to a halt, staring down at these fading signs of violence, and released a shaky sigh.
Christopher took her hand, his eyes on the bloodstain.
‘Good Frith, lass,’ he breathed, ‘you came so close.’