Both men stared at him wide-eyed.
“Everyone makes things so complex. Everyone plays at manners just to hide their true feelings. I see people out there who would have beaten me to death for being a thief, but because I’m the Norrington, they’d give me everything I’d have stolen. And they still hate me for being a thief, but they lie and say they don’t in case I won’t save them when it comes down to it.
“And you know what? I’ve heard everyone say that Hawkins had to be sacrificed because if everyone had heard that Chytrine was coming back, they’d have been scared and nations would fall and stuff. Now, you have no trouble putting these same people in your armies and send them out to die without knowing why. So, how come they’re frightened sheep when some nighthaunt says she’ll be back, but brave and stalwart and courageous when you give them a spear and point them at something that will kill them dead?”
Will pointed a finger at King Augustus. “I know you are brave and everything. I know you’re a good king. And you’re my king, no matter what Scrainwood says. Nobody pokes your eyes out on coins, but you turned a blind eye to Crow. Through him, Chytrine warned everyone she was coming, but you all decided that to save your own heads, you would not let anyone know what she said, and so no one was prepared for her to come back. And did it ever occur to anyone that if you had gotten ready for her to come back, maybe she wouldn’t have?”
“Will! That’s enough.” Crow stood and opened his hands to the king. “Highness, I apologize.”
“No, no, that’s all right.” Augustus raised his hands and waved Crow back down on the cot. As Crow resumed his place, Augustus turned and looked up at Will. “Do you really want me to reply, or do you just wish to scourge me with your indignation?”
Will bit back a harsh reply and shivered. “I’ll listen.”
“Good. I’ll answer you, then, but not because you’re a noble or the Norrington or even because you are a citizen of my nation. I’ll answer you because you are the first person to ask me questions that have plagued me through the years.”
Augustus’ voice retained its deep tone, but sank in volume to something just shy of a whisper. “You may well be right, Will, that the common folk would not quake in fear at the threat of invasion from the north. Perhaps that is true of most of them, but even you have seen how panic or worry in one can infect others. There are ways to counter that, but at the time Hawkins was sacrificed, worry had infected the crowned heads. Reason did not prevail, and while they accepted a solution that allayed their initial fears, they all knew they had treated a symptom, and not the disease.
“Until I came to the throne—until Queen Carus replaced her father, until others who could think clearly took their places at the heads of their nations—that whole question could not be reexamined. To try to raise the issue of Hawkins would have caused kings to admit they were wrong, or caused their heirs to cast doubt on the legends of their predecessors. Hawkins and his fate became a minor sidelight to the whole problem of preparing for Chytrine’s return.”
Will frowned. “That’s easy to say.”
“But it is true, and Hawkins knew it, too.” The king glanced at Crow. “He set out to continue the fight against Chytrine, leading by example. Others might have protested, launched petitions to get their name cleared, but he put his old persona to rest and focused on the important problem: defeating Chytrine.
“Now, I will admit to being a coward. I knew what he was doing, and I knew his actions would prove he was not what he had been accused of being. I took refuge in his actions, telling myself that there would come a day when that injustice could be corrected, but that day would have to come after Chytrine was defeated. In that way, Hawkins, I did fail you and failed you terribly. Will is right, I really was no friend to you.”
Crow smiled. “No, Highness, you were. You were looking to my mission, which is far more important than I am. Had you asked, that is what I would have told you. Better an hour fighting Chytrine than a thousand hours in my defense.”
Will shook his head adamantly. “There you go, there you both go. Evil is evil. Hurting Hawkins helped Chytrine. Chytrine is evil, so hurting Hawkins was evil. All this being polite doesn’t change that.”
Augustus’ voice took on an edge. “So I was evil in that moment, and can be judged harshly for it? Yes, Will, you have so judged me, but you have judged me no more harshly than I have judged myself. My only solace has come in knowing that my efforts against Chytrine are the best I can muster. I have not compromised in that, and never shall.
“Hawkins may forgive me, or may not. I may be able to set things to rights for him, and I may not. I will, however, accept no compromise in fighting Chytrine. It is by no means a perfect solution, but it is the best solution circumstances permit.”
The thief hesitated for a moment. He wanted to let his outrage at the king’s treatment of his friend override the practicality of the man’s words. I’ll do that, though, it will be as bad as the kings who let fear destroy Hawkins. That realization twisted his guts around and soured his mouth.
Will sighed. “You’re right about fighting Chytrine. Doesn’t mean that what was done to Crow was right.”
“No, it doesn’t, and we will find a way to resolve it. If I have to bankrupt Alcida paying for bards to sing of how Hawkins’ shame was a trap that caught Chytrine, I will.” The king smiled ruefully. “That’s provided we defeat her. If we don’t, those left alive won’t care, and the only songs they will sing will be of misery.”
17
Kerrigan Reese shivered, and it was not from walking through the cold, snowy streets of Meredo. He found the temperature rather bracing. It helped him clear his head, and clear thinking was what he needed.
He had encountered Magister Syrett Kar almost two weeks earlier, and that morning he’d gotten a summons to the Vilwanese consulate. The document had been politely worded, and the wards sealing it had been carefully worked. More important, they had been cunningly cast by a Magister who clearly had studied for decades at Vilwan. Though Kerrigan could not recognize the spells as having been cast by any of his former tutors, he was pretty certain that he would recognize the person waiting for him.
He’d tried to talk to Will about the message when his friend returned to the Rampant Panther after a visit to see Crow, but the thief had been irascible. Will had asked why the person who sent the note hadn’t just signed it and left off with all sorts of subtle things that didn’t amount to anything but masks to cover evil anyway.
Kerrigan wasn’t certain what Will was talking about, but tried to explain that names have power in the realms of magick. For a wizard to sign his name to something was dangerous. If a wizard told you his true name, it was a sign of great trust since another spellcaster could use his name to craft spells of devastating power against him.
But Will wanted no part of explanations and wandered off to his room. Kerrigan couldn’t find Resolute or Dranae, and Lombo and Qwc would likely listen to him, but he wasn’t certain any insights they provided would be worth much. Lombo, having been deprived of a chance to kill a mage, had taken to hunting through the city for other prey and was off on an expedition and the Spritha just seemed, well, flighty.
Kerrigan found himself trapped between two conflicting notions. Orla had told him to stay away from Vilwan, and he took her request very seriously. She said there were people there who would want to destroy him because they feared his power. He was slowly coming to realize that he did have a lot of power. On Vilwan, while he was being trained, he had been so isolated that he really had no perspective on what he could do. But Magister Syrett’s surprise at his abilities, and the man’s admission that he couldn’t have compelled Kerrigan to do anything, provided Kerrigan with a glimmer of what others might see in him.