“Exactly.”
“I thought that once, right before I ran away from Garriston.” Kip had thought no one would think a child would come to spy on the Color Prince and rescue Liv. That had turned out well.
“But you’re stronger now.”
“That was two weeks ago!”
Gavin laughed.
“Doesn’t that tell you something?” Kip insisted.
Gavin smiled. “It should tell you something, too.”
“What?” Kip asked.
Gavin got serious. “That I believe in you.”
Kip wasn’t sure what to do with that, not when Gavin delivered it straight. He couldn’t laugh it off, couldn’t make a joke out of it. It was too obviously true, and it warmed him. Kip grimaced. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”
Gavin rubbed Kip’s head. “Almost as good as I think I am.” He grinned. “You know, Kip, when this is all over…” He let the words fall away, and his good humor went with them.
“It’s never going to be over, is it?” Kip asked.
The Prism took a deep breath. “Not the way I’d like.”
“Are we going to lose?” Kip asked.
Gavin was quiet for a while. He shrugged and smirked. “Odds are.” He wrapped an arm around Kip’s wide shoulders, squeezed, released him. “But odds are for defying.”
Chapter 8
Karris had all the gear packed and ready. Gavin, she assumed, would draft another skimmer rather than take one of the ships. He always was an impatient man. She checked her gear again to calm her nerves. She hated thinking she’d forgotten something. Hated not knowing what to prepare for but trying to pack light.
Of course, Gavin would come out and say, “Let’s go!” and try to leave immediately. As if, having invented a way to cross the entire Cerulean Sea in a day and save a month of sailing, he didn’t have an extra hour or two for packing.
Why had she volunteered for this again?
Because you don’t have anything better to do than saving the world and revealing the cancer at its heart.
There was that.
Gavin came onto the deck, and Karris was struck once again by how every eye turned to him. She supposed that most of the people on this ship were common folk, and they would have turned to see even Garriston’s Governor Crassos, hated as he had been. And perhaps they would have stared as worshipfully at any Prism, but she doubted it. Gavin’s title was special, but something in her believed that he would have attracted every eye on deck even if he’d been a cabin boy. Now that he’d saved all their lives again, she was surprised that they didn’t spontaneously burst out into applause.
The sailors burst out into applause.
Son of a bitch.
Two Blackguards fell in beside him as he came out the door. Someone must have shouted the word that the Prism was making an appearance, because in moments, people were piling out onto the deck. The captain, a stalwart rotund Ruthgari, made no attempt to stop them or get his sailors back to work. They nearly trampled each other on their way out of the cabins below, and sailors, soldiers, traders, nobles, and refugee peasants alike came out to get a look at their Prism.
He’d been on board with them for the last week, and he’d been in Garriston with them before that. It wasn’t like he’d changed. But somehow where he’d been an important man before, now he was theirs. Their savior. Pitting himself against a sea demon and winning had made Gavin larger than life.
If Karris hadn’t seen with her own eyes how close Gavin had come to getting eaten, she might have had the cynicism to think he had arranged the whole thing.
The people were packed on the deck-every ship had been filled to bursting in order to get the refugees out of Garriston before the Color Prince took over-and all of them were talking to each other, sharing inanities like, “Do you see him? Is he saying anything?”
Gavin made his way over to Karris, Blackguards in tow. They, like she, scanned the crowd for threats. Gavin said, “Milady, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a small expedition?”
What do you do when someone asks you kindly to do what you’ve already wheedled and schemed for? “I would be… delighted,” Karris said.
“Excellent.” Gavin smiled without any hint of irony. He did have a nice smile. The worm.
He raised his hands. “My people!” he said. He had a commander’s voice, an orator’s voice with the trick of somehow speaking so loudly and clearly that everyone could understand him without his seeming to shout. “My people! I leave you today, but only for a time. I go to make a place for you. I go ahead of you. And now I ask you to be fearless and grow strong. There are days ahead that will test us all. There is work that only you can do, though I will help as I can. I’m leaving General Danavis in charge. He has my full trust. He will lead well.”
The words walked a narrow line, and he surely knew it. What he was describing without precisely saying was that he was their promachosthe title a Prism could be given during war. But the promachia could only be instituted by the order of the entire Spectrum. Gavin had been promachos during the war with his brother, and had been relieved of the title in less than six months. To be a promachos was to be emperor in truth.
It was one of the very things the Blackguard had been created to protect against.
At the same time, what else was Gavin going to tell all these people? That he was leaving and they were going to have to fend for themselves? They had nothing. They’d left everything in Garriston.
He kept talking, and Karris kept scanning the crowd. Ironfist had taught them the telltales for spotting an assassin, of course. Someone who was sweating profusely, shifting awkwardly, anyone who was keeping their hands concealed in such a way that they might be hiding something. For Karris, it was more of a feeling. An assassin would feel out of place. Someone who wasn’t listening, because they didn’t care what was said. Someone who only cared about his own mission.
Karris realized two things at the same time. First, that was exactly what she was doing. Second, there were at least fifty Blackguards on deck. Not to mention a couple of hundred fanatical common folk who would tear apart anyone who even dared offend their Prism. If there were a perfect moment to not attempt an assassination, this would be it.
Gavin drafted a set of steps from the deck down to the water and drafted a yellow-hulled scull onto the water, complete with rowing apparatus for two.
The Blackguards on duty were Ahhanen and Djur. Neither man looked pleased, but they saluted Karris, transferring protection to her. Life, light, purpose.
Gavin descended the steps and took his place. He didn’t offer Karris a hand onto the scull, which she appreciated. Now, in this, they weren’t some lord and a lady. She was his protector, thank you very much.
As she took her place on the oars, she said, “No blue this time, huh?” The last time they’d sculled together, she’d accused him of using blue luxin for the hull because blue was practically invisible against the waves and it had unnerved her.
He grunted.
She shouldn’t have said it. He’d doubtless drafted the scull from yellow to be kind to her. She’d complained about what he’d done last time, so this time he was doing it differently. And she’d thrown it in his face. Nice, Karris.
They pushed off and sculled together in silence, heading west. When they were half a league out, Gavin signaled that they should stop.
“I showed them all the skimmer yesterday, but there was a lot going on,” he said. A lot going on. She supposed that was one way to describe the panic fifty thousand helpless people felt when they realize they’re under attack by a sea demon and then watching their Prism lure it away from them single-handedly, using magic the likes of which no one had ever seen. “I didn’t want to give all the drafters a tutorial today in how to make one for themselves. Just because a secret’s going to get out eventually doesn’t mean you need to shout it from the rooftops.” He stopped, seeming to realize that she might not be the person to say that to.