“I was sick, too, wasn’t I?”
“Very sick. Back in Caulderon, I was terrified you were going to die.”
“But your blood healed me. After you gave it to me the first time, wicked old Lyf couldn’t reach me any more, and — ” Rannilt recoiled, staring up the slope.
Oh no, thought Tali. She rose to her feet, still holding Rannilt’s hand, and turned around.
“Eee!” hissed Rannilt, twisting free and trying to hide behind Tali.
It was the very man. Alone, with no guards in sight.
“Many lies have been told about Lord Rixium,” said the chancellor to the assembled provincial leaders of Hightspall.
“And you told most of them,” Tobry said sourly.
“Don’t try my patience, shifter, or it’ll be the last thing you do.”
Tobry yawned. “Rix’s whole household is under a sacred safe conduct. Are you saying, publicly, that it means nothing to you?”
“Bah!” said the chancellor.
He was perched on an outcrop of limestone which formed a broad platform six feet above their level. The fifteen provincial leaders and their counsellors were seated on camp chairs on the grassy slope between him and the water, which was a few yards behind them. The stone was white, the grass thick and green, the chancellor pinch-faced and haggard.
Rix was shocked at how old and beaten he looked. The chancellor appeared to have aged ten years since Rix had last seen him. He looked like a man who had lost hope.
“I won’t deny that the war is going badly — ” said the chancellor.
“How could you?” said Rundi of Notherin, a stocky, purple-faced bruiser who had murdered his ageing lord and seized his vast holdings at the beginning of the war. “You’ve failed at everything you’ve done since it began.”
“When I called muster, Rundi, you refused to provide a single man to defend your country.”
“I have no country. Hightspall is finished and it’s every lord for himself.”
“But you’re not a lord,” said the chancellor with a flash of his old menace. “You’re just a vicious little thug out for all he can grab, and the moment Lyf turns in your direction you’ll be whining and begging the neighbours you brutalised to save your dirty hide. But you’ll wait in vain.”
The chancellor spat over the edge of the outcrop, onto Rundi’s boots.
Rundi scowled and clenched his scarred fists, but said no more. Rix knew the man by reputation — a coward who did his work in the dark, from behind.
“I’ve not done well,” the chancellor went on. “I admit it. Lyf killed all my officers and I don’t know how to lead an army in war. Even so, I love my country and would give anything to save it. Can any one of you say the same? Did any one of you give me the support I needed to fight for Hightspall?”
None of the leaders spoke.
“You’re gutless, the lot of you,” the chancellor said in disgust. “Lyf is going to pick you off, one by one, and good riddance!”
“If things are so bad,” said an old, dried-up lord, Carr of Caldees, “what the hell are we doing here? What sort of peace can you hope to negotiate?”
“I’m glad you asked,” said the chancellor. “Only one man here has had the courage to stand up to the enemy, and he’s a man who, only six weeks ago, had nothing. Rixium of Garramide, come to my side.”
“Here we go,” Tobry said quietly. “This is why you’re here.”
As Rix climbed onto the outcrop, the chancellor turned to face him and held out his hand. Hunched as he was, he was a full foot shorter than Rix, and only half his weight, but when Rix looked into the chancellor’s eyes he saw dark fires burning there. He wasn’t beaten yet, and he had a plan.
It turned Rix’s stomach to shake hands with the man who had destroyed House Ricinus and ruined his own good name, but he also loved his country and any alliance was better than none. He drew off the steel gauntlet and extended his dead right hand. The chancellor blanched as he took the hand he had ordered cut off, and quickly withdrew his own, but he was smiling when he turned to the other lords.
“In a few short weeks, Rixium escaped Caulderon, took back his stolen fortress of Garramide and won a mighty victory against the uncounted hordes of the enemy — the first victory of the war.”
“It wasn’t that great,” Rix muttered. “And they weren’t uncounted hordes, not even five hundred — ”
“Do you want to win the war or not?” said the chancellor out of the corner of his mouth.
“Of course, but — ”
“If I say it was a great victory, it was.”
The chancellor raised his voice. “Rixium has shown us that the enemy can be beaten.” He stepped to one side to leave Rix at the centre of the platform, then added quietly, “Draw your sword and raise it high.”
Rix did so. “Rixium also bears a prodigious weapon,” the chancellor went on. “Maloch, the enchanted sword of his towering ancestor, Axil Grandys. And Lyf fears Maloch more than anything in the world. All rise, and acclaim Rixium’s victory.”
They rose and gave him a perfunctory cheer.
“Louder!” said the chancellor. “I want Lyf to hear it, down at the temple.”
This time it was a full-throated roar.
“Excellent,” said the chancellor quietly. “It’ll help my negotiating position.”
“I don’t understand why Lyf needs to negotiate,” said Rix.
“He’s overplayed his hand, driven his people too hard and too far, and they’ve no stomach for any more bloody destruction. That’s why he’s here.” The chancellor looked up at Rix. “Time to go. Say something encouraging.”
Rix met the eyes of the provincial leaders, one by one. “I’ll tell you something else to give you heart,” he said. “Lyf’s great victories against Caulderon and Bleddimire weren’t won by force of arms alone. They were mainly won by magery — prodigious magery — coming from the stolen ebony pearls.”
“How can you possibly know that?” sneered Rundi.
“I have a spy.”
“Why should that news give us heart?” said Carr of Caldees, thoughtfully.
“Because Lyf was so desperate to win quickly that he used too much magery,” said Rix. “He’s almost drained the pearls dry, and now, as everyone knows, magery is failing everywhere. Without Lyf’s magery his soldiers are just men, no bigger, no stronger and no better than us. And we’re going to fight them! We’re going to beat them and take Hightspall back. Aren’t we?”
“Yes!” they roared, as one this time, and beat their swords on their shields until the din was thunderous.
The chancellor gave Rix an ambiguous stare, then nodded stiffly and turned to the lords. “It’s time for the peace conference. I’ll do all the talking.”
Rix waited until they had gone, then fell in beside Tobry and Glynnie. “Well, I never expected that.”
“I did,” said Tobry.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I thought you’d do better if I didn’t. And you did.” They walked together for a few paces, then Tobry said suddenly, “If this goes badly, you should challenge him.”
Rix froze. “Lyf?”
“No, the chancellor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He’s just built you up. The provincial leaders see you as one of them, and a fighter, not a schemer. Plus you’ve got Maloch — never discount it.”
“I think so too,” said Glynnie. “I’ve always thought you should be leading Hightspall, Rix.”
“I know,” snapped Rix. “You and Benn began that nonsense before we escaped from Caulderon. Don’t mention it again. I’m not up to it.”
He strode ahead to catch up to the others.
CHAPTER 69
Tali swallowed. Had the peace conference been a ploy to bring her here? Did Lyf plan to break the truce and attack her for her pearl? If he got it, no way would he agree to peace. Lyf wouldn’t need to — the outcome of the war would be certain.
She had to be strong, and ready to fight him if necessary. She stiffened her back, reminding herself that he held the lives of her people in his hands. How would he decide the Pale’s fate? Easily, or painfully? She could still see traces of the noble young man from the self-portrait in his ravaged face. But only traces.