Hirundo’s smile became a saucy, sassy grin. “I was thinking the same thing about you, Your Majesty, if you want to know the truth.”
“I always want to know the truth,” Grus answered. “Life’s hard enough to deal with even when you do. When you don’t—” He shook his head. “Forget it. So tell me the truth about what we can do to Dagipert and the Thervings.”
That grin faded back into a smile. Even the smile had trouble staying on Hirundo’s handsome face. “The truth? We can’t do much. We can do what you’ve been doing—nip at him, pick off a few men who stray too far from his main line of march. Past that…” He shrugged. “If we try to slug it out with him with the army we’ve got, he’ll stomp us.”
“I was hoping you might tell me something different,” Grus said glumly. “I’m a river-galley man, so I thought I might be missing something when it comes to fighting on dry land.”
“I’m afraid not,” Hirundo answered. “Or if you are, I’m missing something, too.”
“All right, then,” Grus said. “Do what you can. Meanwhile, I have to do what I can to keep Corvus from walking in the back door while Dagipert’s trying to get in at the front.”
“Yes, that might be a problem,” Hirundo agreed airily. “Aren’t you glad, Your Majesty, that you decided you wanted to be king?”
“I didn’t particularly decide I wanted to be king,” Grus answered. “I decided that was the best way to keep from getting murdered. And now that I’m on the throne, I’ll be gods-cursed if I let that arrogant bastard of a Count Corvus throw me off of it.”
“Ah, dear, dear Corvus,” Hirundo said. “He always did endear himself to everyone around him, didn’t he?”
“If that’s the word you want to use,” Grus said. “Go on now. Keep the Thervings in play, and I’ll see what I can do about making sure our own nobles don’t cost us too much.”
“Good luck,” Hirundo told him. “At least when I go forth, I’ll be sure all my foes are in front of me. You’d better worry about your back, too.” He sketched a salute, bowed, and hurried away. Grus had given him something clear-cut to do, and he would do it. Grus was sure he would do it well, too.
Grus’ own fight, as Hirundo had said, was less simple. The King of Avornis wished his officer hadn’t spelled that out quite so plainly. How many men who said they were loyal to him really spent their time praying to Olor and Quelea—or to the Banished One—that he would fall and Corvus ascend to the Diamond Throne? He didn’t know. He hadn’t the faintest idea. Hirundo could see Thervings and Avornans and know which side was which. No, things weren’t so easy in a civil war.
I can’t know who’s loyal to me and who’s a traitor behind a smiling mask, Grus thought. No, I can’t. But I know someone who can, or who may be able to…
He summoned Alca the witch. She bowed very low before him. “How may I serve you, Your Majesty?” she asked.
“You can stop that, to start with,” Grus said roughly. “You saved me from something so nasty, I’d rather not think about it. If that didn’t earn you the right to treat me like a human being and not something made out of gold and ivory, I don’t know what would.”
She cocked her head to one side, studying him. It was an unnerving sort of scrutiny; he had the feeling she was looking not just at his face but deep inside him. He didn’t think he was ready for such an examination. He didn’t think anyone could be.
It lasted no more than three heartbeats, four at the outside. It only seemed to go on forever. After that uncomfortably long little stretch of time, Alca nodded. “I am your servant, Your Majesty. Say what you require, and I will give it to you if I can.”
“My servant?” Grus doubted that. He doubted it very much. He didn’t think the witch served anyone but herself, any more than Lanius’ moncats—or ordinary cats, for that matter—did. But he didn’t care to argue with her, either. Her politeness, like a cat’s, deserved to be respected. So, as she’d suggested, he said what he required. “I want to know how many folk here who say they’re loyal to me really back Count Corvus.”
Alca frowned. “I can try, Your Majesty, but that’s not an easy sorcery to bring off. And I could make mistakes. Sometimes someone can be unhappy with you without being a traitor. The spell I’d use would—or could, anyhow—find both kinds of people.”
“I see.” Grus nodded, less happily than he might have. “How about this? Can your magic find someone who really hates me and is hiding that, and tell him from someone who’s just unhappy with me, from somebody who might or might not be disloyal?”
“Maybe.” Alca sounded dubious. “I can try.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Grus said. “Run the test on King Lanius first. He hides it pretty well for someone so young, but I know he doesn’t love me and he never will.”
“All right.” Alca looked startled. “You’re taking a certain chance, you know, depending on how I feel about you.”
“You saved me once,” Grus said.
“Ah, but you weren’t a usurper then,” the witch answered. “You were an officer the kingdom needed. Now you’re someone who’s put the ancient dynasty in the shade.”
Grus studied her. If she’d been startled, he was astonished. “If you think I did that to the dynasty, what am I liable to do to someone who has the nerve to call me on it?”
Alca didn’t flinch. “For one thing, I did save you, no matter why. I think you have honor enough to spare me on account of that. And if you don’t… well, even kings ought to think twice before they strike at witches. Witches have ways of taking vengeance ordinary mortals don’t.”
“That might do me harm,” Grus said, “but it wouldn’t do you any good.”
“True.” Alca surprised him again, this time by smiling. “I am not an ordinary mortal, but I am a mortal. Witches are. Wizards are. So are kings.”
“Test your spell on Lanius, as I said,” Grus told her. “I don’t punish people for speaking their minds to me, but I do want to know if they know what they’re doing.”
“If I didn’t know what I was doing, why would you want me working any sort of magic for you?” Alca asked.
Grus laughed. “You don’t know Turnix, the wizard who served with me when I was a river-galley skipper.”
“Oh, but I do!” Alca said. “He isn’t that bad a wizard.” She stopped short of suggesting he was a good one. She was better, and they both knew it. Grus waved his hands, yielding the point. Alca asked, “Does it matter to you whether Lanius knows I’m testing him?”
“Go ahead and tell him,” Grus answered. “I think he knows I know what he thinks of me.” He listened to what he’d just said. “Did that come out right?”
“I think so,” Alca said. “All right, Your Majesty. I’ll attend to it.”
Lanius stared at the bright-eyed witch. “You want to work what kind of magic on me?” he said.
“One that will measure the strength of a spell to detect dislike and disloyalty toward King Grus,” Alca said again.
One that would give Grus an excuse for getting rid of me, Lanius thought. “You wouldn’t find anything,” he said. “How can I dislike King Grus when I’m married to his daughter?” He was sure his life was at stake here. If Grus can claim I’m plotting against him, he’ll dispose of me as fast as he can.
“You misunderstand, Your Majesty,” Alca told him. “King Grus told me he already has an idea of your feelings, and won’t worry about what they are. All he cares about is using them to measure the way the spell works.”