They had chosen the northern gate. As most of the trouble was happening to the south, Ramil
guessed all eyes would be turned in that direction. They ran swiftly and silently through the
slave quarters. Though they were seen by many of Fergox's household, no one
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stopped them. Most just turned their eyes away, having learned that it was best not to notice,
but a few more adventurous souls grabbed makeshift weapons and ran after the rebels, poised
to defend their backs.
Ramil paused in the shelter of a doorway opposite the gate. He glanced out: there were five
guards, armored and alert. He leant back, taking a pause before the plunge.
"Do you remember Tashi dancing before those guards at Felixholt?" Ramil asked Gordoc.
"Aye, Ram."
"Of all the stupid, brave things to do! I was so angry with her."
"So was I. She could be very stubborn."
"For her then."
"For her."
The two men launched themselves across the courtyard, unaware that they now had twenty
slaves behind them in addition to their back-up of two. The soldiers grabbed their weapons but
too late. Slaves smashed them over the head with logs, buckets, anything they could lay their
hands on, as the rebels ran them through with swords. The skirmish was bloody but brief.
Clearing the bodies to one side, Gordoc opened the gate with a heave and the men waiting
outside rushed in.
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"You know your targets!" Ramil shouted, abandoning stealth. "Attack!"
Half the slaves swarmed up the walls, engaging the soldiers in close combat. Ramil led the rest
towards the
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main palace buildings. Arrows whizzed overhead. A man on his right fell with a grunt. Surprise
gave the slaves a huge advantage. Ramil took out the captain of the guard on the steps of the
throne room while Gordoc saw to the man ringing the alarm. The big bell stopped tolling.
"Is that it?" Ramil asked, wiping his brow. It had all seemed so sudden. He had expected more resistance. Unknown to him, in the other buildings of the palace complex, word had gone out
and slaves had quietly slit the throats of the men-at-arms. Few had been left to defend Fergox's
throne. Like Tigral itself, years of abuse had made the palace ripe for picking.
Gordoc and Ramil shoved the double doors open.
"I never did like Fergox's taste," Ramil said with a curl to his lip.
The high hall was decked in red cloth, falling in swaths to the ground like rivers of blood. The
ceiling was held up by black pillars rising out of a black marble floor. A gold throne sat under a
canopy at the far end. But the hall was not empty. Standing on the steps to the throne was a
grey-haired woman dressed in a gold silk robe. Three children clung to her skirts. Ramil glanced
at Gordoc, who shrugged, as surprised as him. They expected everyone to have fled by now.
Ramil advanced, sword still drawn. He had learnt from Yelena never to underestimate a lady.
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"That's right, slave scum!" the woman said, clutching her children to her.
"Run me through in cold
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blood!" She wrenched aside her robes, inviting the killing thrust.
Ramil put his sword point on the floor and leant on the hilt.
"I have no intention of doing any such thing, madam. Who are you, pray?"
The woman looked a little confused to have her dramatic gesture rejected but she did not give
an inch.
"I am the First Wife of Fergox Spearthrower. I ask no mercy for me or my children. Kill us now,
rather than subject us to the mockery and disgrace of being prisoners of slaves."
Ramil bowed, now understanding exactly with whom he was dealing.
"Honored to meet you, madam. I have heard about you from your husband."
The woman laughed wildly. "You? You've heard of me from the Emperor? I think not."
"I did, when guest of your husband in Felixholt. He was planning to dispose of you, if I
remember, and replace you in his affections with a younger woman."
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The First Wife spat. "The witch!" She had obviously heard the rumors.
"In your place, I would reserve my anger for the husband, not the unfortunate woman of his
choice. Anyway, I can assure you that he will not be marrying her." Ramil spun his sword on its
tip, wondering what he should do about Fergox's family. The First Wife would make a terrible
hostage if Fergox wanted her
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dead--and Ramil had an inkling that he could not live under the same roof as her for long.
"You claim he was going to get rid of me?" The woman hugged her eldest daughter to her side.
"He wouldn't dare!"
"I'm afraid he would." Ramil sighed. "I wish no harm to come to any innocents caught up in the transfer of power. But neither can I leave you to cause trouble for me." He had a sudden idea--
brilliant if he could negotiate it.
"I would like to offer you the choice to go into exile--you and the other wives."
"Exile? Exile where?" The woman frowned.
"The Blue Crescent Islands. I understand they give shelter to women in their temples and treat
them much better than here."
The woman looked aghast. "You would send me to that island of witchcraft and demon
worship?"
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"Or would you prefer to stay here as a slave captive and await your loving lord to rescue you? He was talking to the royal axeman about your neck last time I saw him."
The First Wife glowered. "It seems I have no choice. I will go into exile, but return triumphant
when you meet your doom."
"Quite so. I'm glad you have seen reason. I suggest you leave as soon as I can arrange passage as I fear you won't like the changes I'm about to make to your domestic arrangements." He bowed,
waving her in the direction of her pavilion.
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With a flounce of her skirts, the First Wife swept out. "What a woman!"
Gordoc sighed appreciatively as he watched her disappear in a swirl of indignant silk.
The interrogation of the Fourth Crown Princess took place in a plain white room near the Silent
Court, the Third Princess on one side of a grille, Tashi on the other. Tashi sensed that her
answers did not satisfy her inquisitor.
Court scribes hovered in the background taking notes. Scrupulously keeping to the truth, Tashi
admitted that Fergox had told her he had paid for her election and bullied her into doubt for a
short while. Korbin seemed less interested when Tashi explained how she had regained her faith
and rediscovered the beauty underlying the rituals.
"1 fear, my sister, your election was tainted from the beginning," the Third Princess announced at the end of the session. "You are blameless in this, but it undermines our system of
government if such things are left to stand."
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"Perhaps," said Tashi, but then she recalled how the Princess before her represented the most powerful family on Rama. "However, all of us were elected through a system open to human
greed and ambition. We have to trust the Goddess's hand is upon the process."
"You are not comparing your case with mine and my sisters', I hope?" Korbin asked primly,
fluffing up her robes like a cat with her fur on end.
"Actually I was. I'm sorry if you find that offensive."
The Third Princess twitched her skirts round as
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she walked out of the room, not deigning to give a response.