The crowd around them was quiet. Not silent. Dawson could hear mutterings and complaint, but near enough that when he spoke, the callers could make out his words clearly.
“Lord Regent,” he said. “You have tasked me with the submission of Asterilhold. I have come to report that duty is done.”
And on the word done, the crowd erupted in cheers. Dawson kept himself from smiling and watched Palliako’s face. No one knew that he had refused the regent’s order, and no reply had come to Dawson’s report that the nobility of Asterilhold was under his personal protection. It was possible that Palliako would have him named traitor for what he’d done, but with the adulation of the crowd ringing the city like a bell, it seemed unlikely. Nearly impossible.
And, in fact, the regent was smiling. He looked about with a wide grin, as if the cheers were for him. Palliako stood, motioning for silence, but the cacophony went on, trailing off only slowly.
“Lord Marshal Kalliam. You have shown yourself again to be an invaluable friend to the Severed Throne. It is my duty and pleasure to add to your titles and holdings. From this day forward, you are Dawson Kalliam, Baron of Osterling Fells and also of the Barony of Kaltfel.”
Dawson felt a sudden tightness in his breast. The renewed cheers were wild as a windstorm. He had guessed that there would be no suit of peace, no treaty. The war now behind them had not been a conflict between civilized kingdoms. It had been raw conquest, and now as its spoils, Palliako had granted Dawson a city almost as great as Camnipol itself. He had made Dawson effectively the second most powerful man in Antea, behind only the regent himself.
Dawson gave salute, but his mind was possessed by the implications. He imagined the wealth of Kaltfel pouring into his hands, his house, and the fortunes of his sons. Even Lord Bannien would look a beggar by comparison.
All he would have to do was accept Geder’s rule and the rule of his priests. All it would cost was his honor. Dawson took a garland of flowers from around his neck and placed it on the ground before him, as if offering them up to Palliako.
I will earn these, he thought, but even if he had shouted it, no one would have heard.
After the official audience, Dawson suffered through hours more of his official duties. The surrender of the prisoners, which took some extra time as he needed to impress on the gaolers that King Lechan especially was being surrendered only for holding, and that he remained under Dawson’s personal protection. Then he ordered the disband, freeing his men to return to their homes and families and ending his tenure as Lord Marshal.
He tried to avoid being in a room with Palliako and the priest, but form required at least a private glass of wine. The private audience was in a small garden near the dueling grounds. Prince Aster greeted him formally, and then excused himself to go play with a handful of other boys born of noble houses. Palliako and Minister Basrahip sat at a table of lacquered rosewood, servants rushing to them with cooled wine and fruit. Dawson bowed to the regent and took his seat, but his gaze was on the personal guard. Ten of them. Ten blades set to protect Palliako at all times. They would be difficult to overcome, but not by any means impossible…
“I hope your journey back wasn’t too arduous,” Geder said. “I hear you left Fallon Broot as Protector of Asterilhold?”
“I did, Lord Regent.”
“Now there’s a man whose fortunes have changed in the last years,” Geder burbled. “You know I met him on the Vanai campaign?”
Dawson drank from his glass. The wine was excellent. Simeon had always cared about his drink. Now Palliako was getting the benefit of that.
“I believe I had heard that, my lord,” Dawson said.
“Well, it’s bad fortune for him that he’ll be missing your revel. I still remember what you did for me. After Vanai. I’ve been looking forward to returning the favor. It will be amazing. Honestly, I think people will be talking about this for a generation.”
Dawson permitted himself a smile.
“I hope that you are right,” he said.
“I was sorry to hear that you didn’t have Basrahip’s priests help with the battle at Kaltfel. They were useful taking the bridge, weren’t they?”
“I didn’t believe their help was required at Kaltfel,” Dawson said. “And I thought it would be better for morale if the victory were unquestionably Antea’s.”
“Oh, that’s silly,” Geder said with a wave of his hand. “Everyone knows they’re on our side. I mean, they weren’t out driving down the enemy’s confidence over some private feud they had with them.”
“I suppose not,” Dawson said, fighting not to stare his anger at the priest. “But for the sake of form, if nothing else.”
“And once all this is over, I’d like to talk with you about how to manage the transition with Asterilhold. I’ve been reading the histories, and I don’t find any single good model for this. I mean, I know it helps that we both used to answer to the High Kings.” Geder sighed. “I wish my orders had gotten to you a day earlier. This would all be so much easier. I mean, when you’re at war, death’s to be expected. Now that they’ve surrendered, things will be more difficult.”
“They can’t be slaughtered wholesale,” Dawson said.
“But we can’t just leave them,” Geder said. “It doesn’t make sense to have half a victory. If you don’t destroy your enemies utterly, aren’t you just asking for another fight later when they’ve regained their strength? If you want peace—real peace—I think you have to conquer, don’t you?”
“We need justice, not petty revenge.” There was more bite in the words than he’d intended. “Forgive my saying so, my lord.”
“Oh, no. Please. Speak your mind. You’re one of the only men in this city I trust.”
Dawson leaned forward in his seat.
“We are noblemen, my lord,” Dawson said, choosing his words. “Our role in the world is to protect and preserve order. The houses of Asterilhold have Antean blood, many of them, but even if they did not, we share a history with them. What they have done against us must be answered, and answered between equals.”
“Oh, I absolutely agree,” Geder said with a rattling nod that meant he hadn’t understood at all. The priest had his eyes half closed, but seemed to be listening to him carefully all the same. A twist of anger floated up from Dawson’s heart.
“The world has an order,” Dawson said. “My men are loyal to me, and I am loyal to the throne, and the throne is loyal to the system of the world. We are who we are, Palliako, because we have been born better. When a low man crosses me, I execute him. When a highborn man, a man of quality, crosses me, then there is the dueling field. If I were to wantonly spill noble blood on behalf of a pig keeper, even if the nobleman were of a different kingdom and the pig keeper my own vassal, it would be an abomination.”
“Let me think about that. Of course, we are more or less equals, aren’t we?” Geder said. “We’re nobles, they’re nobles. And we’ve done all this because they were scheming against Aster, who’s the highest blood in the land. We did it for him.”
We’ve done it for your foreign zealots, Dawson thought.
“I suppose so,” he said, and the priest made a small sound in his throat, like a boy who’d caught sight of a curious animal.
“You seem troubled, Lord,” the priest said, sitting forward. His gaze was on Dawson. “Is something else bothering you?”
You are a goatherd, and you have no right to question me.
“Nothing,” Dawson said, and the priest smiled.
Seeing Clara again was like putting a burned hand in cool water. Everyone else, from the footmen to Jorey, were made of smiles and pleasure and congratulation. Dawson felt as though he were living in a dream where he was in a burning ballroom and no one else could see the flames. Clara looked at him once and put her arms around him like a mother comforting her child.