Stephen Deas - The King of the Crags

Jehal shrugged. 'And yet look at us now. You keep your history and I'll keep my wealth. We both have plenty enough dragons though.'

She sniffed. 'You want me to let Shezira go?' 'Yes.'

'Let suspicion hang over her? Leave the world to wonder? Did Hyram fall or was he pushed?' 'I see you remember.' 'My answer is no.'

Jehal grinned and bared his teeth. 'Then I look forward to humbling you at your council.'

'You will not be there, Prince.' 'Nevertheless.'

Zafir stopped. She turned to face him, looking up with wide earnest eyes. 'Are you going to be my enemy now, Jehal?'

Jehal put the palm of one hand against the side of her neck, the age-old gesture of brotherhood. 'I am your best and truest friend, my lover. You will know your enemies at your council, for they will be the ones who shout and bellow their support when you call on them to hang Queen Shezira.'

She took a step away, withdrawing from his hand, and slowly shook her head. 'No. My enemies will be the ones who oppose my will. And I will not forgive, Prince Jehal. Whoever they turn out to be.'

Vale Tassan watched as the last scorpion was hoisted into place. The Adamantine Palace bristled with them now. He sighed the long satisfied sigh of someone who'd got exactly what he wanted. The Red Riders were enemies of the realms and now at last the speaker had set her mind to crushing them. Dragons were moving up from the eyries in the south and combing the Purple Spur. The Adamantine Men had been unleashed from their barracks. Some had been dispatched to join the dragon-riders in their search, but the large part remained to guard the City of Dragons and the speaker's palace. He'd got all the weapons he'd asked for. No dragon would get close enough to burn the Speaker's Tower for a second time. If they did, that would mean his head.

Seventy-four days since Head Priest Aruch had handed Zafir the Adamantine Spear. Seventy-four days gone in a flash. The last Night Watchman to go to war had served mad old Anzuine in the War of Thorns and died fighting Vishmir's dragons. Dying didn't bother Vale though. What bothered him was that three dragons had flown straight through his defences, meagre as they were, and burned the speaker's palace. He couldn't blame that on Zafir, not all of it. There had been fifty scorpions on the walls when the Red Riders had come. Now fifty Adamantine Men had been executed and fed to the speaker's dragons. One for each crew that had missed. Good men all. How could they all have failed? How could we have been so lax when it is our duty to be vigilant?

Not being ready. That was what kept Vale awake at nights.

'Satisfied with your handiwork?' asked a voice behind him.

'Prince Jehal.' Vale turned around, dropped to his knees and bowed. 'Yes, Your Highness. Most satisfied.' He kept his head down, eyes to the ground. The Adamantine Men, even their commanders, were mere servants after all. Servants to the dragon kings and queens, princes and lords. Sometimes being lowly and small could have its advantages.

'You can get up, you know. I'm not Zafir.'

'As you command, Your Highness.' He rose slowly, his eyes fixed on Jehal's feet. What does he want? Nothing good. Nothing good ever came from the Viper.

'Tell me, Night Watchman, what did you think of the council this morning?'

Vale slowly shook his head. 'I have no opinion to offer, Your Highness. I exist only to serve.'

'You might try that on Zafir and get away with it, but not with me. Speaker Hyram, unless I am misinformed, once valued your advice.'

Vale stayed silent. Silence was always the safest defence. Words only made trouble. Especially with this one. 'Well? Did he or did he not?'

Vale shrugged. 'I cannot say, Your Highness. Only our late lord may say as to the value he found in what few words I had to offer. And he is dead.' Dead because of me. My fault.

'So he is. You served him for a long time. Why do you suppose he turned his back on Shezira?'

'Again I have no opinion to offer, Your Highness.' Because of you. You and your potions and your stepfather. Because of Zafir and because, in the end, he was weak like all men are weak when they grow old. He will not be making such a mistake again. He frowned. He would have to watch those thoughts lest they turned from thoughts into words and then to actions, and before you knew where you were, it would be him throwing people off balconies. He knew exactly where he'd start too. He bit his tongue.

Jehal's smile was bland and false. 'He was a good speaker, I think, until the end. He wanted too much to live, perhaps? Is that how Speaker Zafir turned him? Was she just too pretty to refuse, do you think?'

'You might be a better judge of that than I, Your Highness.' Inside, Vale winced at his own words. Silence! Remember, silence is your defence.

Jehal's eyes glittered. 'Really?'

'Love of women and a long life are two things that we of the Guard have long forsaken.'

Jehal laughed. 'Oh, then I could never be an Adamantine Man. Although you do confuse me. There are whorehouses around your barracks, and I can tell you from exhaustive personal endeavour that some of them are really quite good.'

'Love of women, Prince Jehal. We have forsaken love, not lust. We are swords. We sate ourselves in flesh as the need comes upon us and then we move on.'

'Cold words, Night Watchman!'

'Forgive me, Your Highness.' Vale bowed. 'They are not my words, nor those of any Guardsman before me. That is how Prince Lai described us.'

'In Principles} I don't think so. I would have remembered that.'

'Prince Lai wrote other works, less well read or well received, Your Highness. I have a small library of my own.' There, now why did you say that, Vale? That sounded like a boast, and Adamantine Men have no need to boast.

Jehal cocked his head. 'You are a fascinating fellow. Especially for someone who has no opinions of his own. I've always admired Principles. We used to have all his other works in our own library and then we had a fire. I didn't know any copies had survived.'

'The monastery in Sand has the most complete collection, Your Highness. I have but a few, but I would be honoured to offer them to you.' There. Is that enough? Will you go away and leave me alone now?

'I will take you up on that, Night Watchman, but not as a gift. I couldn't take such treasures from anyone, least of all a man who has forsaken love. War is all you have left.'

Jehal turned away but Vale didn't allow himself to relax. Hyram called him Viper because poison came out of his mouth, but there's some scorpion sting in him as well, I think.

Sure enough, Jehal took one step and then stopped. 'Night Watchman, may I ask you a question on which your opinion is most certainly relevant. How many dragons do you think your scorpions and your legions can stop? More than three, I hope.'

I will not rise to that. 'I cannot stop the dragons. Your Highness. Only their riders.'

'Then how many riders, Night Watchman?'

'The answer to that is in Principles, Your Highness, as I'm sure you know. A legion may face ten mounted dragons at best before it breaks. I have twenty legions. In the field, therefore, two hundred riders at best. Here, behind these walls and towers, maybe twice that number.'

'Are you sure?'

'No one can be sure of such a thing, Your Highness. No one has ever tried.'

'It would be a slaughter.'

'The palace and the city would burn and most of us would die. Perhaps all. But that's what we are for.'

Jehal laughed, although he didn't seem to find anything funny. 'Then get yourself ready, Night Watchman, for when Zafir puts Shezira to the sword, the north will come to war with you. The flower of their manhood will be pierced by your bolts, while these walls and towers are smashed and burned and your legions with them. There will be nothing left of any of you. Everything Hyram preserved will go up in flames. If the realms survive at all, he will be remembered as the Great Fool.'