“Take them hostage,” R'shiel suggested.
They all looked at her in surprise, including Brak.
“If you plan it right,” she continued, “once you take the Citadel you'll have every duke in Karien as a hostage and their priests with them. If you can't negotiate a settlement with Jasnoff, using his entire Council of Dukes as your bargaining chip, you're not going to do it with anything else. It's quite simple, really. You kill them one at a time until he gives in. Start with the priests and work your way up. You shouldn't have to dispose of too many before King Jasnoff gets the message.”
Brak grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close so only she could hear him. “What in the gods' name are you up to now?” he hissed in her ear.
“Trust me, Brak.” She pulled free of his grasp and rubbed her arm.
“Not this time, R'shiel. I won't stand by while you slaughter innocent men just so you can get even with your mother.”
She let out an impatient, exasperated sigh. Why did he always assume the worst about her? “I'd hardly call the Karien dukes and their priests innocent. Besides, we're not really going to destroy anyone, Brak; we're just going to threaten it. We're just giving them a reason to go home.”
Brak's faded eyes were burning with suspicion, but he had no chance to question her further.
“You don't seriously expect us to kill hostages in cold blood?” The man who spoke was Rylan, the Citadel's Master of Horse. R'shiel had known him since she was a small child. “That's not the way we do things in the Defenders.”
“You coped well enough murdering your own people during the Purge, Commandant,” she replied. “I should think a few enemy heads posted over the main gate would make a nice change.”
The room exploded in a rush of objection. Garet glared at her angrily. “You're treading on very thin ice, R'shiel.”
“I'm merely stating facts, Garet. The Defenders have much to atone for.”
“The biggest mistake we made was not ensuring we had completely eradicated the Harshini,” someone called out pointedly.
R'shiel turned on the officer who had spoken. “You'll make an even bigger mistake if you think you can do this and remain on your high moral ground. Look at you! Hiding in the back room of a tavern, plotting the overthrow of your government while you profess to abhor unnecessary bloodshed. Your precious Defender's honour didn't stop Mahina being killed. It hasn't stopped the Kariens taking control of Medalon and it won't help you get it back. You're fighting fanatics, Captain, not men who think like you do. If you expect to win, you have to play by their rules, not hope they'll play by yours.”
Garet glanced at Brak warningly. “Shut her up, or leave.”
Brak stepped up behind R'shiel and placed a strong, restraining hand on her shoulder. “You aren't helping, R'shiel.”
“We can't go ahead with this!” Rylan insisted. “Jasnoff won't negotiate. He doesn't need to. What does it matter if we control the Citadel? With that army camped outside our walls, we could be under siege for years. There is no army waiting over the next rise to come to our rescue. And even if there were, what army on the continent could rival the number of Kariens out there? It's too dangerous. We should find another way.”
Garet held up his hands to quell the hubbub of agreement that followed the Horse Master's words, then looked at R'shiel and Brak speculatively.
“Rylan has raised a valid point. If this strategy fails and we can't disperse the Karien host, we will be caught in a siege that will be long, painful and ultimately futile.”
“What if you had a chance of being relieved?” Brak asked. R'shiel glanced over her shoulder at him. Then she smiled in understanding.
“Damin.”
“Who?” someone asked from the back of the room.
“Damin Wolfblade, the High Prince of Hythria. Tarja was taking the men he gathered south to meet him. He has already promised Medalon aid.”
“For that matter,” R'shiel added thoughtfully, “we could probably get Hablet to join in the fray. And then there are the Defenders who fled to Hythria.”
“How many Defenders?” someone asked. “A thousand? Maybe two? They'll not be much use against that horde outside.”
“And you seriously think the Hythrun and the Fardohnyans will come to our aid?” Rylan scoffed.
“Damin will come,” R'shiel replied confidently.
“R'shiel's right,” Brak agreed. “Hythria and Fardohnya will come if she asks for their help.”
“Things must have changed in the south quite dramatically in recent months,” Rylan remarked sourly. “Last I heard, Hablet was planning to invade us, not come to our rescue. And since when did you hold any sway with the kings and princes of our southern neighbours?”
Garet studied her for a moment then turned to Rylan. He had been on the northern border with them and knew she was acquainted with the Hythrun Prince. “Actually, in this I think she may be right. Wolfblade might come if R'shiel asks him. But are you sure you can trust him?”
“I'd trust Damin with my life.”
“It's not just your life you're trusting him with, R'shiel, but the lives of every man, woman and child in the Citadel.”
Garet studied them both for a moment, weighing the advisability of placing his faith in their assurances. Eventually he shrugged and turned to face his men. “As I see it, we go now, or we abandon the idea altogether. Every day the Kariens reside in Medalon makes it all the harder to dislodge them. I'm willing to believe R'shiel if she says she can bring help. I say we do it and then settle down and wait for the Hythrun to relieve us.”
A low murmur ran through the room as the Defenders indicated their cautious agreement. Garet nodded. “Good. Then let's get down to details.”
There wasn't much R'shiel or Brak could contribute after that. These men had been planning this since the day Joyhinia signed Medalon's surrender. Everything had been worked out: each key position they would take, every weapon they would need and every man they would need to do it. This meeting was simply to sort out the minor details and accommodate any last-minute changes to their plans.
They based their coup on the assumption that every Defender in the Citadel would follow them when the time came, and R'shiel was quite sure their confidence was justified. There was not a Defender who would willingly subjugate himself to the Kariens - with the possible exception of Wain Loclon, and she intended to take care of him personally.
The task of rescuing the Lord Defender and Tarja fell to a young captain whom R'shiel vaguely remembered being a lieutenant when she had been a Probate. He was, she recalled with mild surprise, the young man who had whisked Kilene away to dance, on the night Davydd Tailorson had taken her to meet Tarja in the caverns under the amphitheatre. That night stuck in her memory like the jagged edge of a bottomless abyss, down which she seemed to have been helplessly tumbling ever since, towards a destiny she had never wanted or envisaged. Symin accepted his orders with a serious expression, but she could sense the suppressed excitement that he struggled to hold in check. He worried her a little. This was not an adventure.
It was the early hours of the morning before Garet glanced around the room with a nod of satisfaction. “Well, that's about it. You all know what you have to do. Any questions?”
“We've not mentioned how we're going to get a message to the Hythrun,” Rylan pointed out.
“R'shiel?” Garet asked, turning to her.
“We'll take care of that.”
“How?” Rylan asked. “We'll be trapped in the Citadel. How will you get a message out? How will you get past the Kariens? We have no birds here trained to fly to Hythria.”