“I am delivering my terms to them,” Kalarus said. “My terms for you are somewhat different.”
“I am listening,” Cereus said quietly.
“Yield your city to me now,” Kalarus said. “And I will spare your life and that of your family. You will be free to depart and make what life you would elsewhere in the Realm.”
Cereus’s eyes narrowed. “You would seek to cast me from my family’s home? To force me to abandon my people?”
“You should be grateful I’m giving you a choice,” Kalarus replied. “Defy me, and it will go hard for you, and for your line. I promise to be thorough. I know all of their names, old man. Your three daughters. Your son. Your eleven grandchildren.”
“You would threaten babes in arms, Kalarus? You’re a madman.”
Kalarus barked out a laugh. “A madman? Or a visionary. Only history will decide-and we all know who writes the histories.” Kalarus’s teeth showed again. “I’d prefer you to fight so that I might destroy you. But we both know that you aren’t a fighter anymore, Macius. Walk away while you still can.”
High Lord Cereus faced Kalarus’s image for a silent minute before he lifted a hand, clenched it into a fist, and snarled, “Get out of my garden.”
The waters of the pool rippled, and Kalarus’s image, like Gaius’s had, fell back into droplets of water that splashed back into the pool.
“Threaten my granddaughter. I’ll wring your skinny throat, you cowardly slive.” Cereus growled at the pool. Then he turned to face the assembly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a city to defend. I welcome any help you might give. But if you don’t intend to fight, you should depart the city as quickly as possible.” He turned a hard look at the pool where Kalarus had stood. “If you can’t help, then stay the crows out of my way.”
Then the old man, his anger wrapped around him like a cloak, spun on his heel and strode from the garden barking orders to his startled-looking men, his voice ringing from the walls.
The others in the garden just stared after Cereus, startled at the change in the man. Then they began to speak quietly, most moving to leave. Amara turned to the images of Lords Placidus and Atticus. “My lords, please. Before you go, a word on behalf of the First Lord?”
The water-forms nodded, and Amara waited until the garden had emptied again. “My lords, may I ask your intentions?”
Lord Placidus, a plain, stocky man of unremarkable height and crystal blue eyes shook his head. “I’m not sure, Countess. But if he has Aria then…” The High Lord shook his head. “There are a number of dangerously volatile furies who are restrained from doing harm by my wife’s will. If she dies without taking the proper measures to keep them neutralized, several thousand of my holders would perish. I have no qualms about sending my Legions into harm’s way-but I am not willing to sacrifice the populations of entire steadholts. Women. Children. Families.”
“You would let the Realm fall instead?” Amara asked.
“The Realm will stand, Countess,” Placidus said, his voice hardening. “Only the face beneath the crown will change. I have never made it a secret that I wish nothing to do with the politics of the crown. In point of fact, if Gaius’s page hadn’t publicly manipulated us into supporting him, my wife might now be with me, safe and unharmed.”
Amara ground her teeth, but nodded once. “Very well, Your Grace.” She turned to High Lord Atticus. “And you, sir?”
“I gave one daughter to Gaius already,” Atticus said, his voice bitter. “My Caria, taken to wife and held hostage in the capital. Now Kalarus has taken the other daughter. I see little difference between the two. But Gaius asks me to sacrifice men and blood, while Kalare wishes me merely to stand aside.” He bared his teeth, biting off the words. “So far as I am concerned, you can all cut each other to shreds and let the crows pick clean your bones.”
He turned, and the water-image flowed back down into the pool.
Lord Placidus grimaced at the departed lord of Attica. “I have no love for Kalarus or what he stands for,” he told Amara. “I have no qualms about facing him on the field of battle. But if I must choose between the First Lord’s life and those of my wife and thousands of my holders, I do not choose Gaius.”
“I understand,” Amara said quietly.
Placidus nodded once. “Tell Gaius I’ll not contest him should the Legions need passage through any of my lands. It is all I can offer.”
“Why?” Amara asked him, her voice very quiet.
Placidus was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Most High Lords marry for advantage. For political alliance.” The image of Placidus shook its head as it slipped back down into the pool, receding. “I loved her, Countess. Still do.”
Amara stared at the rippling pool for a moment, then sighed and settled down onto a nearby bench. She shook her head, struggling to work her way through a dozen trains of thought. She looked up a moment later, to find Bernard standing over her, offering her a mug of Giraldi’s ale. She drank it off in a single, long pull.
Kalarus was far stronger than anyone had anticipated and had found some way secretly to train and transport entire Legions of men. He was ruthless, clever, and determined-and worst of all, to Amara’s way of thinking, was that Lord Cereus’s accusation seemed distressingly accurate. Kalarus might well be as mad as Cereus claimed. Though the forces of the Realm had the strength to beat him back, if only just, Kalarus had chosen a particularly vicious moment in which to attack and had struck at the most vulnerable point. If he moved swiftly enough, his coup might well succeed.
In fact, she could not think of anything the First Lord might do to stop him.
She could understand what Placidus had done, on one level, but on another she burned with fury at the man’s decision to turn aside from the First Lord. He was a High Lord of Alera. He was honor-bound to come to the aid of the First Lord in the face of insurrection. Amara wished no harm to come to Lady Placida or to any innocent holders, of course, but she simply could not reconcile Lord Placidus’s choice with his obligations as a Citizen and Lord of the Realm.
Bernard’s ring, on its chain around her neck, felt heavy. She could hardly be the first to cast that particular stone. After all, hadn’t she put her own desires ahead of her duties?
Bernard settled down next to her and exhaled slowly. “You look exhausted,” he said quietly. “You need to sleep.”
“Soon,” she answered. Her hand found his.
“What do you think?” he asked her. “About all this.” “It’s bad,” she said quietly. “It’s very bad.”
Gaius’s voice rolled through the little garden, rich and amused. “Or perhaps it only seems so on the surface, Countess.”
Chapter 15
Amara blinked, rising abruptly, and turned to find Gaius standing behind them in the flesh, emerging from a windcrafted veil so fine and delicate that she had never had an inkling that it had been present. “Sire?” she said. “You were here all along? But Kalarus…”
The First Lord arched an eyebrow. “Kalarus Brencis’s ego is enormous-and an enormous weakness. The larger it grows, the more of his view it will obstruct, and I have no objections to feeding it.” Then he smiled. “And my old friend Cereus needed someone to remind him of what he is capable. It was generous of Kalarus to volunteer.”
Amara shook her head. She should have known better. Gaius Sextus had not retained his rule in the face of dangerous, ruthless men like Kalarus by being weak or predictable. “My lord, you heard what Lords Atticus and Placidus said.”
“I did indeed,” Gaius said.
Amara nodded. “Without their forces to help hold Ceres, Kalarus’s gambit may well succeed.”