Shadow War - Deborah Chester [44]
His eyes sought only Sien’s. “There has to be another way.”
“You have been loyal to your father,” Sien said persuasively. “No one could argue that. You care about your people. Yes, they are yours, by right! You are the true heir to the throne, not that woman. What will become of you, of your steadfastness all these years, of your work, of your service when he gives his empire to her? She cannot rule this land. She lacks the strength of will, the knowledge, the ability. She is only a woman, foolish and weak. Her training comes from the Penestrican witches, and you can imagine what they have implanted in her mind. She will lose the empire. She will let it crumble into anarchy. She cannot hold it. You know that.”
“Yes,” Tirhin whispered. His face held bleak bitterness and resentment. “I know.”
“Be bold. Seize what belongs to you now, while the chance is in your hand. At least listen to what the Madruns propose. They are not the first enemy to be turned into friends. Let them help you, and then help them in return.”
Tirhin frowned and turned his back on the priest. In doing so he faced the back wall, and Caelan could see his face clearly. There was torment in the prince’s eyes, torment overladen with anger and a dawning look of purpose. Caelan could see the decision in his master’s face long before Tirhin drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
The prince swung around and faced the other men. “Very well. I agree.”
The Madruns grinned and slapped each other on the back. Even Sien permitted himself a faint smile of intense satisfaction.
“Now,” he said in his deep voice, “you become the ruler you were born to be.”
Tirhin shrugged angrily, still visibly tense as he accepted the assurances of the Madruns. The civilian crossed to the horses and took down two bulging saddlebags. He flung these on the altar, and gold coins spilled from beneath the flap of one.
“Here is our first way of giving you support,” he said eagerly. “Bribes for officials. Bribes for officers. Bribes for the palace guards and those who protect the woman. Our army will stand ready. Prepare an order for those who man the post towers at our border—”
“My priests can persuade the soldiers to let you cross the border,” Sien said.
Tirhin threw him a sharp look, but the Madruns smiled.
The soldier leaned forward. “Give us that, and army will stand at Imperia’s walls in these days.” He held up his hand, all five fingers spread wide. “We help you take city.”
Tirhin gestured in repudiation. “You move too fast. If you think I will let you through the city gates, you—”
“There have been too many delays already!” the civilian Madrun said fiercely. “Had you accepted our proposal last year, there would be no empress in the way now.”
“A mere detail,” Tirhin retorted hotly. “First you want the border, and our strategy plans, then the palace, now the city. What next will you demand from me?”
“Gently, gently,” Sien said in quiet warning.
Tirhin looked as though he might choke, but he silenced himself.
“We do not beg you,” the soldier said with gruff dignity. “We offer deal. You take it. Or you not take it. You decide now.”
Tirhin looked ill. “I have already given you my decision.”
The soldier shoved the saddlebag at him so that the coins spilled in a heavy golden stream to the floor. “Then take! And give what we ask. Do not wring your hands like woman, moaning about honor. In war, there is no honor. Only victory, or defeat.”
Cocking his head to one side, he glared at the prince.
Tirhin drew a folded piece of parchment from inside his tunic and handed it over. The Madruns fell on it eagerly, and Tirhin turned away. He walked over the coins unheedingly, his face bleak and empty.
Sien spoke very quietly to the Madruns, who laughed, but took their horses and weapons and left.
Caelan grimaced to himself and stole to the corner of the hut. Watching unseen, he saw the two men mount up and ride away into the darkness.
Torn, Caelan wondered whether to run after them. With luck and the element of surprise, he might be able to slay them