The faintest ghost of a smile touched the corners of Basrahip’s mouth. He shook his head. No, that was not true. Geder’s anger came back in its full glory now. He smiled.
“Lord Ternigan? Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No.”
“Do you think you can lie to me?”
“I would never lie to you,” Ternigan said, and tried to take a step back, but Daskellin and one of the guardsmen were already in the space. Ternigan turned, looking for a path through the men to the door. Or a wall that could be pushed through. Escape.
“Have you called me a buffoon, my lord?”
“No!” Ternigan cried, but it was beyond all doubt. Geder spat on Ternigan’s feet. Here was the great Lord Ternigan, war hero of Antea, cowering like a child before his angry father. Here was the man who’d thought Geder was laughable and small and stupid enough that he could wrest the throne from him. That the instigator had falsely claimed to be Mecilli didn’t signify. Geder knew the truth of the betrayal from Ternigan’s own living voice. That was more than enough.
“Lord Ternigan,” Geder said. “I am removing you from your position as Lord Marshal of Antea.”
“Y-yes, my lord. As you wish it.”
“Yes,” Geder said. “As I wish it. Lord Daskellin? Are you involved in a conspiracy against me?”
“No, my lord.” It was true.
“My lord Flor? Are you?”
“No.” True.
“Lord Emming? Are you involved in a conspiracy against me?”
“I am not.” True.
Geder cracked his knuckles.
“My lords, I hereby name Lord Ternigan traitor against the Severed Throne and against my person as Lord Regent.”
“No!” Ternigan cried. “You have been misled, Lord Palliako! This is a conspiracy against me!”
“Guards, please escort the traitor outside.”
Ternigan struggled, but he had no weapons and no one to take his side. The guardsmen hauled him roughly out of the tent and sent him sprawling in the mud outside. Geder walked after him, the warmth of certainty and fury making him twice his height. His fists clenched and unclenched. The others came out behind him, one by one, until everyone from the tent stood in a rough circle. The guards hauled Ternigan to his knees.
“I demand a trial,” Ternigan said through a mouthful of mud. “I demand trial by combat. God knows I am innocent.”
“No,” Geder said. “He doesn’t. Captain. Your men should draw blades now.”
The captain gave the order, and the sound of a dozen swords clearing their sheaths filled the air. The sunlight glimmered on bare metal.
“This,” Ternigan said. “This is an injustice.”
“No. It isn’t,” Geder said. And then, “So. Who’s the buffoon now?”
Ternigan died quickly, the last of his blood spilling into the muck outside his tent. Geder watched him die with a sense of growing satisfaction. He wasn’t going to vomit this time. He was going to maintain his dignity. All around him, Lord Ternigan’s men stood slack-jawed and shocked. The wind made a soft whuffling sound like the noise of sails on a ship.
Canl Daskellin was the first to speak.
“There will need to be a new Lord Marshal. And quickly. The men are going to be disheartened by … by Lord Ternigan’s duplicity.”
“He was corrupted,” Basrahip said. “Turned against you, Prince Geder.”
“The Timzinae,” Geder said. “It’s their desperation.”
“As you say, Prince Geder,” Basrahip said mournfully.
“If you would like,” Daskellin said, “I can draw up a list of men who would make good generals for the kingdom, and we can—”
“No,” Geder said, rounding on him. “No. I am done with giving power over to generals and counselors and great men. Do you see what’s happened when I’ve done that? They turn. They all turn. I don’t want any more generals.”
His chest was working like a bellows, and his face felt hot even in the winter wind. Canl Daskellin nodded as if what he’d said made perfect sense, then paused and held out his open hand, the palm up like he was offering something.
“What do you want?” he asked, and his voice was gentle, calm, and polite. To judge from it, they might have been sitting leather couches in the Fraternity of the Great Bear rather than standing over the corpse of the Lord Marshal in the mud of a half-conquered battlefield. “If not generals to lead the armies or counselors, then who do you want?”
A friend, Geder thought. I want a friend.
Are you certain you won’t come with us?” Daskellin asked. “There is still time to catch up with the hunt if we join them at Masonhalm.”