Fourth moon, afternoon, day thirty-three of the siege
The heir’s wing, the palace, Rilporin, Wheat Lands
He was wearing the uniform of the Personal Guards to the royal family. It secured him unparalleled and – more importantly – unquestioned access to the palace, but the Personals were a small, close-knit unit. Any one of them would know instantly he was an imposter.
Best just stay out of their way then.
But that, of course, was easier said than done. He’d chosen the meeting place because he knew Rivil’s quarters as well as he knew his own. He hadn’t reckoned on the fucking West Rank turning up and taking over every spare room and common space. Fortunately, even Durdil wasn’t stupid enough to throw open the royal apartments to defeated soldiers, but slipping through the palace had been more fraught than he’d expected. Next time – if there was a next time – they’d meet somewhere less full of soldiers who wanted him dead.
Still, his palms were clammy and cold sweat made its miserable way down his back into the crack of his arse as he waited in a shadowed corner of Rivil’s audience chamber. His guests were to meet him in the bedchamber, meaning they’d pass him by on the way through the suite and he could ensure they were those he was waiting for, and that they hadn’t brought unexpected friends. Still, the risk was enormous, and doubly so now the palace was heaving with stinking, exhausted soldiers and lice-ridden Wolves. How they’d survived to make it this far, any of them …
Focus. If this meeting goes to plan, I’m not only free of the city, but firmly back in Rivil’s favour. And why wouldn’t it go to plan? They were happy enough to fly the scarlet at my suggestion. No, I just need to keep them dangling a little longer …
Footsteps. Galtas tensed and drew his knives, checked his approaches, his line of sight and ease of movement. Could be those he was here to see, could be Personals, could be West Rankers. Someone knocked at the door – what the fuck? Did they think he was going to stroll up and open it, welcome them in with a smile and a glass of wine? Galtas breathed quietly. There was a pause, and then the click of the antechamber door opening.
More footsteps, slow and hesitant. Galtas flexed his fingers on the knife hilts. Someone coughed. ‘Hello?’ Another voice hushed him, there was frenzied whispering, and then the men came through into the audience chamber and crossed it, making their way to the bedchamber. They didn’t even glance around. Galtas watched them go, his ears straining back into the antechamber for hidden guards or assassins. Nothing.
The men came back out of the bedchamber, alarm plain on their faces at his absence. Galtas melted from the shadows, his knives glinting. ‘My lords,’ he said and they jumped, squeaked in fear, but didn’t call for aid and he relaxed a fraction. ‘I’ve been waiting.’
‘Forgive us, Lord Morellis. We wanted to ensure we were not being followed. There are so many soldiers here now, it was … not easy.’
Galtas suspected it had been impossible. These fools couldn’t lose a blind tail on a dark night in a labyrinth. Only their rank and arrogance would have allowed them to move through the palace without suspicion. Still, better to keep the meeting brief and get the fuck out while he still could.
‘How circumspect,’ he said drily. ‘Would you take a seat?’ He gestured and rounded the desk to sit in Rivil’s chair. It put him in a corner, but it also put the desk between them. They perched on the edges of their seats like wild birds. ‘The latest intelligence, if you please.’
The men exchanged a look. ‘We require assurances first,’ the first said cautiously, tugging repetitively and unconsciously at the lace of his cuff. ‘That all you promised is in hand.’
Galtas sighed. He sheathed one of the daggers, used the other to clean beneath his fingernails. He didn’t bother looking up as he spoke.
‘As agreed, King Rivil will see you richly rewarded for your …’ He gestured with the knife and both men leant away from it. ‘… aid in bringing this siege to a swift conclusion. After all, none of us want to be killing our countrymen, and if Rastoth had done the decent thing and died years ago, then none of this would have been necessary. King Rivil sent me into the city to procure such help as you are able to provide. In return for the information you gather at the war council each day, I will secure you safe passage out of the city. You will not be harmed, and you may take as much wealth as you can carry. Your women and children will of course accompany you, and once peace is restored, you may return to your estates here to find them untouched. I have no doubt that the king will welcome you back on to his council.’
‘And what is it you intend to do with the information we provide?’
Galtas did look up at that. ‘How easy do you think it will be for me to get you out of the city?’ he demanded, leaning forward and thumping the knife point-first into the polished table. They jumped again. ‘The best – the only – time I can get you safely away is when all the action is focused on a breach of the walls or one of the gates. You tell me which section of the defence Durdil thinks is likely to fall first. I relay that message – don’t ask me how, I won’t tell you. We then assault that very section and ensure a breach. When all eyes are focused there, I spirit you away through a different exit.’
The men before him eyed one another. ‘Many soldiers will die,’ the second ventured, though only the mildest concern touched his face at the thought.
‘Then it is a good thing that is what they are paid for!’ Galtas snapped, working the knife out of the table and sheathing it. ‘Neither of you have territory in the Western Plain, so if it’s the Mireces you are concerned with, you don’t need to be. They will settle the scrublands once the city surrenders and you will hear nothing more from them.’
‘And the rumours of Prince Rivil’s—’ Galtas raised a finger. ‘Forgive me, King Rivil’s, ah, religious beliefs?’
‘Are rumours, my lord.’ Galtas spread his hands. ‘King Rivil did what was necessary to bring this city from under the heel of a mad tyrant. An alliance with the Mireces was unfortunate but necessary and, of course, the foolish and the deranged will spread rumours in consequence. You’ve seen he has the East Rank fighting for his cause – do you actually believe all five thousand of them could have converted to the Red Gods?’
He laughed and they joined in, albeit tentatively. ‘No, my lords, there is nothing to fear from King Rivil, and much to be gained. Yes?’
The men exchanged another look, a small nod. ‘Yes. Very well, let us continue. We have a written report here—’
‘Verbal please,’ Galtas interrupted, holding up a hand. ‘And I’d suggest you burn that. We don’t need any evidence pointing back to you fine gentlemen, do we?’
They blanched and acquiesced so quickly that Galtas wondered, not for the first time, if he wasn’t dealing with drooling idiots. Still, a man took his allies where he found them, especially in times such as these.
He leant back in Rivil’s chair and put his boots on the table. Across from him, as he had known they would, Lords Lorca and Silais began spilling their guts.