“That’s between you and my grandmother.”
“I didn’t force myself on her. She was willing as any woman ever was. But I knew what she wanted; and when I think back, perhaps I knew as well how fiercely she wanted it. Power. To be the consort of a king. I took her, and I knew I’d never give her what she sought.”
While he’d spoken, Panchessa had been staring at the carpeted ground. Now, he looked up, as though expecting a response. Whatever he’d been seeking, he seemed not to find it in Malekrin’s face.
“She was a beautiful woman, then,” Panchessa continued. “And I was a handsome man. What need had I to worry about what some chieftain’s wife might covet? Or whether she’d hate me for it afterwards?”
Again Panchessa’s eyes roved across Malekrin’s face. Again he failed to find whatever he’d been seeking.
“But she did hate. And if I’d known what harm would come from those nights, perhaps I’d have done differently. Then again, perhaps I wouldn’t have. I’ve told no one this, Malekrin, no one ever… but it saddened me to think that my son, your father, despised me. I never met him. They tell me he was a brave man, though — those that did and lived to tell.”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Malekrin. If he was in any way moved by the King’s unexpected openness, it didn’t show in his voice; in fact, he sounded more bored than anything. “My father hardly spoke to me.”
“Malekrin,” said Panchessa, “I know you’re angry. I know you have your reasons. But you should try and hear me now. I’m an old man, I’m dying, and I’ve come to realise — perhaps too late — that the legacy I leave is not the one I might have chosen. Whether or not you can understand that, boy, I suggest you listen to what I have to tell you.”
I nudged Malekrin hard in the ribs. “You should listen, for both our sakes,” I whispered. So far, every word to leave his mouth had seemed a deliberate attempt to lose us our heads.
“I have a proposal for you,” Panchessa said. “Come back to Pasaeda with me and learn what I can teach you in whatever time I have left. If and when I’m satisfied that you can bear the responsibility, you may have your wish: you will be king in my place.”
“I told you before,” said Malekrin, without the slightest hesitation. “That’s not my wish, it’s my grandmother’s. I don’t want to be king. I just want you to leave this city alone; this city and Shoan. I don’t want anyone else to have to die because of you and my grandmother.”
Panchessa’s face darkened. Whatever conciliation had been in his voice was altogether vanished as he said, softly but ever so clearly, “You dare compare me to that woman?”
“You both think people are tools for you to use,” said Malekrin. “Or weapons. Or toys. But they’re not. They have a right to live their lives without being sent off to die because of someone else’s stupid squabbles.”
“You understand nothing about…”
“No, you don’t understand. You think you can make up for all the harm you’ve done like this? All my life has ever been is what other people thought it should be!” Malekrin’s voice was quavering, close to tears — and yet there was a streak of iron in it I’d never heard before. “Well, I won’t be king. Not because you or my grandmother or anyone else thinks it’s right. Not for any reason.”
“You… ungrateful, you…” Panchessa stood then, in a sudden jolt that seemed to cost more effort than standing ever reasonably should. “Go now,” he said. His voice was thick, strangled. “Get out of my sight. Whatever happens now, it’s on your head.”
Ondeges was waiting outside Panchessa’s tent. One look at our expressions told him everything he needed to know. “It’s war then?” he said.
“To the bitter end,” I told him cheerfully. For no reason I could make sense of, I felt oddly light — as though a weight had lifted from my shoulders. It was as close to real happiness as I’d been in days.
Ondeges made no answer. His face was harsh and closed beneath the dancing firelight. He led us as far as the edge of camp, ignoring the curious looks of the huddled fighting men we passed. When we drew near to the Suburbs, he handed me the lantern he carried and said, “You can make your own way from here. There’s much I have to attend to before morning.”
“I’d imagine so,” I said. “Murdering armies don’t just lead themselves.”
The look Ondeges gave me was certainly murderous enough; but all he said was, “No, they don’t.”
When he was gone and we were deep enough into the tumbledown depths of the Suburbs that I felt confident we wouldn’t be overheard, I said to Malekrin, “Well, that was it… the last possible chance for Altapasaeda. And may I say what a pleasure it was to accompany you while you provoked the most dangerous man in the land.”
Malekrin looked at me. There was pain in his eyes, but also defiance. “That wasn’t what I’d planned. I’d meant to go along with whatever he said. Only… I couldn’t.”
“And even if you had,” I said, “what’s to say Panchessa wouldn’t go back on his word? Or that the Senate would accept you? Or the rest of Ans Pasaeda, for that matter? And how would your grandmother have reacted if she’d thought there was a risk of you becoming anything other than her puppet?”
Malekrin’s sullenness turned to open astonishment. “You don’t think I was wrong to refuse?”
“I wouldn’t go that far!” I exclaimed. “Still, what you told him in there… maybe you weren’t right to say it, but you were right in what you said.” I offered Malekrin a weary grin. “What I mean is, you may have just got us all killed, but for what it’s worth, I have to admit I’m impressed.”
Malekrin returned a hesitant smile. “Thank you for coming with me, Damasco,” he said. “And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You’ve been a good friend to me.”
Now it was my turn to be taken aback. To the best of my remembrance, I’d never done anything for Malekrin that could be considered being a friend, let alone a good one. Then again, given the solitary life he’d led, I supposed his standards for such things were very low.
Either way, I’d meant what I’d said; I was impressed that he’d defied Panchessa, that he’d cast away a chance at unimaginable wealth and power in an attempt — however stupid and misguided — to stand up for what he believed. Given my present circumstances and their probably violent conclusion on the morrow, I supposed I could do worse for a friend than this troublemaking barbarian brat.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Although, if any other bloodthirsty kings want to talk to you in the near future then perhaps I could stay home next time. Now let’s get back, shall we? If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being slaughtered on a bad night’s sleep.”
Gailus was waiting just inside the western gate. He had acquired a chair from somewhere and, astonishingly, a portable brazier; he was sat on the one and warming his hands before the other, wrapped in an enormous woollen cloak that made him look both smaller and older than he was.
As the sentries let us in, he gave us a measuring look and said, “You two seem merry enough. I trust that means good news?”
“Oh, the best,” I told him. “Malekrin told his highness precisely where and how far up he could stick his offer.”
To my surprise, Gailus gave a shrill chuckle. “I have to say, I wish I’d seen that.”
“You seem very relaxed,” I pointed out, “for someone who’s discovered he’s sitting in a city that’s going to be razed to the ground in a few hours.”
“Oh, it won’t come to that,” Gailus said. “A few token executions, perhaps a building or two burned to remind the people who’s in charge. Panchessa’s a tyrant, but he’s not a monster. There’ll be no more freedom for the Castoval, but then what did you ever really do with it?”
“Some of the people getting executed will probably be me and my friends,” I said. “And I’d think the point of freedom is that you don’t have to do anything with it.”