Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [184]
Raphael gritted his teeth. “Kill him,” he said to his guards. “You heard him, he has confessed to an attempt on my life.”
“No!”
The outcry arose from multiple throats, mine included. But it was Thierry de la Courcel’s that rang the loudest. “Neither Balthasar nor Bao nor Captain Rousse argued for attempting to kill you, Raphael,” he said. “I did.”
Raphael’s fingers drummed restlessly. “Did Moirin not warn you that should anything happen to me, all your lives are forfeit?”
Thierry met his gaze. “She did. I thought it a risk worth taking. I thought the Quechua might have more respect than you reckon for a man able to kill a god, and acknowledge me their new leader.”
“You know, that’s not badly reasoned,” Raphael commented. “You’re wrong, of course, but it wasn’t a bad notion.” He leaned forward, propping his chin on one fist. “Tell me, how did you plan to do it? You’re hardly in a position to plot an assassination.”
“Does it matter?” Thierry asked.
Raphael shrugged. “Indulge me for Messire Bao’s sake, won’t you?”
Thierry glanced at Bao. “You’ll call off your ants if I do?”
“I will.”
“Very well.” He looked back at Raphael. “I meant to seek an audience with you under the pretense of offering to fight in the coming battle in exchange for our freedom. I don’t expect you would have trusted me enough to accept the offer, but you would have granted the audience for the pleasure of rejecting it to my face. You would have let me get close to you.”
Raphael raised his brows. “Did you then intend to kill me with your bare hands?”
“No.” Thierry hesitated only slightly. “A digging-stick hardened in the fire and sharpened to a point.”
Or a bronze dagger, I thought, suspecting it might have been what gave him the idea.
“Ingenious.” Raphael leaned back in his throne. “You’ve fire in you after all, Thierry de la Courcel. I thought whatever spark of lingering greatness your House once possessed was extinguished when this adventure went so very awry, but it seems I was mistaken. What fanned its flames? The arrival of Moirin and her lot?” He laughed. “It’s ironic that they should raise your hopes, then dash them.”
Thierry was silent.
“Why did you oppose his plan?” Raphael asked Bao. “Oh, right, forgive me.” He gestured, and the ants retreated. Bao eased marginally, his dark eyes watchful. “Well? Did you lack the nerve? It doesn’t seem so.” He laughed again. “Did you lack faith in Thierry and his digging-stick?”
“I believe your threat is a valid one,” Bao said in a low voice. “I do not fear risking my life. But I was not willing to risk Moirin’s.”
“How touching.”
Bao shrugged. “You asked.”
“Shall I show you why Master Lo Feng’s esteemed apprentice is correct?” Raphael asked Thierry. Without bothering to wait for a reply, he gestured to his handmaids, who pulled back the feather tapestry behind the throne to reveal an alcove in which the odious Prince Manco had concealed himself. He strode forth with a satisfied grin, armor rattling, and bowed to Raphael.
Our men looked bewildered.
“Oh, of course!” Raphael said in mock sympathy. “You’ve no idea who this is. But Moirin does, don’t you? This is Prince Manco, who will rule in my stead one day. She tried in vain to suborn his loyalty.” He turned to the Quechua prince. “You’re looking very fierce in your armor, highness! Tell me, would you pledge your loyalty to a man unwilling to use such fine weapons to conquer Tawantinsuyo?”
The prince glared. “Never!”
“In the unlikely event that their plot had succeeded, what would you have done?” Raphael asked him.
Manco laid one hand on the hilt of his sword, and the other guards followed suit. “Put them to death,” he said promptly. “All of them.”
Raphael smiled. “There you have it,” he said to Thierry. “My threat is indeed a valid one. You have nothing to offer the Quechua. I do. If you think to act against me in any way, they will retaliate. Is that understood?”
Thierry’s eyes blazed with fury, but he restrained himself. “It is.”
“Excellent.” Raphael dipped into his basket, shoved a few leaves into his mouth,