Abercrombie, Joe - The Heroes

‘How could he?’ wheedled Calder. ‘He was King of the Northmen. He didn’t have the luxury of telling men what he really thought.’ Which was just as well, because he’d thought Golden was a puffed-up halfhead, just as Calder did. ‘But I can.’ He just chose not to. ‘There’s no reason you and I need to stand on different sides. That’s what Dow wants, to divide us. So he can share all the power, and the gold, and the glory with the likes of Splitfoot, and Tenways … and Ironhead.’ Golden twitched at the name as if it was a hook tugging at his battered face. Their feud was so big he couldn’t see around it, the idiot. ‘We don’t need to let that happen.’ Almost a lover’s whisper, and Calder risked slipping his hand gently onto Golden’s shoulder. ‘Together, you and I could do great things—’

‘Enough!’ mumbled Golden through his split lips, slapping away Calder’s hand. ‘Peddle your lieth elthewhere!’ But Calder could smell the doubt as Golden turned away, and a little doubt was all he was after. If you can’t make your enemies trust you, you can at least make them mistrust each other. Patience, his father would have told him, patience. He allowed himself a smirk as Golden and his men stomped off into the night. He was just sowing seeds. Time would bring the harvest. If he lived long enough to swing the scythe.

Lord Governor Meed gave Finree one last disapproving frown before leaving her alone with her father. He clearly could not stand anyone being in a position of power over him, especially a woman. But if he supposed she would give him a lacklustre report behind his back, he had profoundly underestimated her.

‘Meed is a primping dunce,’ she shot over her shoulder. ‘He’ll be as much use on a battlefield as a two-copper whore.’ She thought about it a moment. ‘Actually, I’m not being fair. The whore at least might improve morale. Meed is about as inspiring as a mouldy flannel. Just as well for him you called off the siege of Ollensand before it turned into a complete fiasco.’

She was surprised to see her father had dropped into a chair behind a travelling desk, head in his hands. He looked suddenly like a different man. Shrunken, and tired, and old. ‘I lost a thousand men today, Fin. And a thousand more wounded.’

‘Jalenhorm lost them.’

‘Every man in this army is my responsibility. I lost them. A thousand of them. A number, easily said. Now rank them up. Ten, by ten, by ten. See how many there are?’ He grimaced into the corner as though it was stacked high with bodies. ‘Every one a father, a husband, a brother, a son. Every life lost a hole I can never fill, a debt I can never repay.’ He stared through his spread fingers at her with red-rimmed eyes. ‘Finree, I lost a thousand men.’

She took a step or two closer to him. ‘Jalenhorm lost them.’

‘Jalenhorm is a good man.’

‘That’s not enough.’

‘It’s something.’

‘You should replace him.’

‘You have to put some trust in your officers, or they’ll never be worthy of it.’

‘Is it possible for that advice to be as lame as it sounds?’

They frowned at each other for a moment, then her father waved it away. ‘Jalenhorm is an old friend of the king, and the king is most particular about his old friends. Only the Closed Council can replace him.’

She was by no means out of suggestions. ‘Replace Meed, then. The man’s a danger to everyone in the army and a good few who aren’t. Leave him in charge for long and today’s disaster will soon be forgotten. Buried under one much worse.’

Her father sighed. ‘And who would I put in his place?’

‘I have the perfect man in mind. A very fine young officer.’

‘Good teeth?’

‘As it happens, and high born to a fault, and vigorous, brave, loyal and diligent.’

‘Such men often come with fearsomely ambitious wives.’

‘Especially this one.’

He rubbed his eyes. ‘Finree, Finree, I’ve already done everything possible in getting him the position he has. In case you’ve forgotten, his father—’

‘Hal is not his father. Some of us surpass our parents.’

He let that go, though it looked as if it took some effort. ‘Be realistic, Fin. The Closed Council don’t trust the nobility, and his family was the first among them, a heartbeat from the crown. Be patient.’

‘Huh,’ she snorted, at realism and patience both.

‘If you want a higher place for your husband—’ She opened her mouth but he raised his voice and talked over her. ‘—you’ll need a more powerful patron than me. But if you want my advice – I know you don’t, but still – you’ll do without. I’ve sat on the Closed Council, at the very heart of government, and I can tell you power is a bloody mirage. The closer you seem to get the further away it is. So many demands to balance. So many pressures to endure. All the consequences of every decision weighing on you … small wonder the king never makes any. I never thought I would look forward to retirement, but perhaps without any power I can actually get something done.’

She was not ready to retire. ‘Do we really have to wait for Meed to cause some catastrophe?’

He frowned up at her. ‘Yes. Really. And then for the Closed Council to write to me demanding his replacement and telling me who it will be. Providing they don’t replace me first, of course.’

‘Who would they find to replace you?’

‘I imagine General Mitterick would not turn down the appointment.’

‘Mitterick is a vainglorious backbiter with the loyalty of a cuckoo.’

‘He should suit the Closed Council perfectly, then.’

‘I don’t know how you can stand him.’

‘I used to think I had all the answers myself, in my younger days. I maintain a guilty sympathy with those who still labour under the illusion.’ He gave her a significant look. ‘They are not few in number.’

‘And I suppose it’s a woman’s place to simper on the sidelines and cheer as idiots rack up the casualties?’

‘We all find ourselves cheering for idiots from time to time, that’s a fact of life. There really is no point heaping scorn on my subordinates. If a person is worthy of contempt, they’ll bury themselves soon enough without help.’

‘Very well.’ She did not plan to wait that long, but it was plain she would do no more good here. Her father had enough to worry about, and she was supposed to be lifting his spirits rather than weighing them down. Her eye fell on the squares board, still set out in the midst of their last game.

‘You still have the board set?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then …’ She had been planning her move ever since she last saw him, but made it as if it had only just occurred to her, brushing the piece forward with a shrug.

Her father looked up in that indulgent way he used to when she was a girl. ‘Are you entirely sure about that?’

She sighed. ‘It’s as good as another.’

He reached for a piece, and paused. His eyes darted around the board, hand hovering. His smile faded. He slowly withdrew the hand, touched one finger to his bottom lip. Then he started to smile. ‘Why, you—’

‘Something to take your mind off the casualties.’

‘I have Black Dow for that. Not to mention the First of the Magi and his colleagues.’ He sourly shook his head. ‘Are you staying here tonight? I could find you a—’

‘I should be with Hal.’

‘Of course. Of course you should.’ She bent and kissed him on the forehead, and he closed his eyes, held her shoulder for a moment. ‘Be careful tomorrow. I’d sooner lose ten thousand than lose you.’

‘You won’t shake me off that easily.’ She headed for the door. ‘I mean to live to see you get out of that move!’