But if that was the case, shouldn’t I die as I’d lived? My mother had always warned me I’d talk my way onto a funeral pyre; here was my opportunity to prove her right. “Then,” I went on hurriedly, “you saw a better way — a chance to keep your line on the throne of Ans Pasaeda. Only, that didn’t work out either. Because your grandson, frankly, is every bit as bloody-minded as his father and grandparents.”
All my attention was caught up in searching Panchessa’s face for something besides anger, but I could sense what was happening around us, as clearly as if I’d been watching it. One word from their king and his men would be hacking us to pieces. One cry from Estrada, and Navare would fling himself into the fray. And close on their heels would come the entire Pasaedan army and half the population of Altapasaeda.
“King Panchessa,” I said, with a firmness I barely felt, “Malekrin won’t ever agree to be some king in training. But Altapasaeda has a palace sitting empty, and he might agree to fill it… at least for a while. Say, what, five years? That’s a mayoral term here in the Castoval. It’s not long, I know. Then again, he may find he warms to the job. Maybe the people will want him to stay.”
I’d spoken with all the passion I could muster. I’d presented my argument as clearly as my garbled thoughts would allow. Yet Panchessa still looked furious. Behind him, his men still had their swords drawn.
I had his attention, though; it felt as if his gaze should have been scorching cavities through my skull and on into the stones of the city beyond. And surely that counted for something, the undivided attention of a king?
I’d never been much of a thief. I’d failed at becoming a hero. But my tongue had scathed warlords and put down tyrants, had rattled guard captains and toyed with giants — and I couldn’t let it fail me now.
I closed my eyes and opened them, held Panchessa’s eye — and there the words were, waiting in my mouth. They weren’t insults, or mockery, but they were the truth. “Malekrin’s a good boy, your highness,” I said. “He’d be a good prince. And having him watching over this city, watching over this land, would be a fine legacy… far better than the alternative.”
By then, I was no longer expecting an answer — at least, not one that wasn’t the order to cut me down where I stood. So I nearly jumped for shock when Panchessa said, “And what of Ans Pasaeda? You’d have me leave my land without a king?”
“That’s for Ans Pasaeda to decide,” I said. “You can’t force Malekrin to be king in your place. But if you ask him, he might do this.”
Panchessa looked at Malekrin then. “Will you? Is this what you want?”
“If Alvantes and I helped you?” put in Estrada quickly. “If Commander Ondeges were to resume his role? If between us we carried some of the burden, until you felt you were ready?”
By then, we were all looking at Malekrin — and I could see him shrinking from our gaze, could tell how badly he wanted to flee. Only then, far too late, did I realise how much better it would have been to convince him before I put my proposal to Panchessa; that there was every chance he’d refuse and condemn us all.
But perhaps I should have had more faith. Because, for all the half-buried panic in his eyes, Malekrin hardly hesitated as he said, “I’ll do it. If it saves more bloodshed, if it keeps this city safe — I’ll do it.”
I couldn’t be certain, for it was the briefest flicker, but I thought I saw something lift from Panchessa’s face then: a layer of weariness and pain slipping free. “Then,” he said, “I wish you luck, grandson.”
“Thank you, your highness,” replied Malekrin softly.
Panchessa nodded, once, as though acknowledging some sentiment that had passed unspoken between them. Then he said, “I will speak to my people now.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he strode past us, to a point where he could be seen clearly from the walls. He looked around appraisingly, took in the gathered men, women and children, their hotchpotch weapons and their makeshift armour. He cleared his throat — and for a moment, I thought the short cough might turn into a choking fit, for he pressed a palm hard to his chest.
The moment passed. Panchessa took one more deep breath and cried, “People of Altapasaeda. It has been suggested to me, by a young man I have some measure of respect for, that your lives might be better spent than as fodder in a war not of your choosing. And if that fact might have meant little to me a week ago, now I find myself swayed. Therefore, I offer you peace… and to my grandson Malekrin, I grant the princeship of Altapasaeda. He may not want it, but a little responsibility will do him good. Let him see firsthand the trials of wielding power.”
Panchessa paused, then, gathered himself — and once again, his face darkened with the threat of anger. “However, all of this rests upon one condition: the woman named Kalyxis must leave your city now, and reclaim the force she has let loose in my lands. This is not open to dispute. I will not have invaders marching upon Ans Pasaedan soil. I brought an army to your walls, Altapasaedans, and I can do so again.”
For all his tough words, Panchessa’s voice had been fading throughout, the threat an outburst of coughing threading his speech like worms through old wood. Lifting his gaze one last time, he said, more firmly, “That’s it. You have been spared, Altapasaedans. Use your freedom wisely.”
Then Panchessa turned and, without another word, walked back the way he had come.
Half an hour later and the Pasaedan army was undeniably in retreat. The last regiments were falling back through the far hem of the Suburbs, and the distant back lines had even begun to collapse their tents.
By unspoken agreement, we had returned to the walls to watch. Now, however, Estrada turned away, a look of determination hardening her features. I’d seen that expression many a time, and been on the receiving end of it often enough; there was no question that it spelled trouble for someone.
When Estrada started in Kalyxis’s direction, I couldn’t resist falling in behind her. I had a sure feeling that this would be something I didn’t want to miss. Navare hurried to join us as well, though I suspected his motives were more well-intentioned than my own.
Rather than shove through the Altapasaedans still thronging the walk to watch their enemies depart, Estrada descended to the street and rejoined the wall by a second flight of stairs — so that when she came upon Kalyxis, the other woman was still staring down at the receding Ans Pasaedan lines.
“Kalyxis,” said Estrada, “you have to leave Altapasaeda now.”
Kalyxis looked round then. I’d never found her easy to read, but I couldn’t escape the conviction that the glint in her eye, her reaction to watching Panchessa leave with his armies in tow, was one of disappointment more than relief. But she recovered herself quickly, and her face was blank as a mirror as she said, “Do I? And walk into a trap?”
“If it’s a trap,” replied Estrada, “then yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do. But it isn’t — and I think you know that just as well as I do. If Panchessa truly wanted you dead then we’d all be dead by now.”
“So he’s a coward. So he would rather win through trickery than face his enemies in an honest fight.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Kalyxis’s emphasis was fearsome.
Estrada, however, wasn’t cowed; in fact, her own tone only became more adamantine as she said, “Yes, ridiculous. Not to mention self-absorbed, egotistical and irrational. If you really care anything for your people, if you want to win their freedom, if you haven’t cooked up this entire conflict of yours because of a slight you suffered years ago, then this is the best and only chance you’ll ever have. Get out of here. Get word to the force you sent, before they do something you’ll regret. Start behaving like the leader you’re supposed to be.”