25
The battle was on, and Yunas had not caught sight of the False Adenor’s encampment before he heard the rumbling of a fresh force charging from the east. Bringing his breka higher, he spotted Quenari’s banner, and surveyed the mess below him with renewed urgency. Tayron had explained what Quenari planned to do to Yunas the night before. After overhearing the conversation between Lady Damial and the king, Tayron had deduced that Quenari guaranteed the False Adenor that he would enter the battle on the side of the rebels with all the forces that remained loyal to him after the original civil war in support of Lord Damial’s ascension. Instead, the traitorous lord planned to betray the rebels and support the king, thereby becoming the hero of the day and fulfilling the conditions for reentry into the court. In the midst of this betrayal, Quenari would, of course, kill the False Adenor, who would be able to testify that the lord had originally supported the rebels. Yunas had to reach Adenor before Quenari’s men. He passed over the final ranks of enemy reserves, hoping that beyond them there would be a clearly defined encampment where he could find his target.
The youthful knight was thankful for one thing – at the last minute the king had ordered the biomages to be withheld from battle. Yunas had seen enough horror in the first battle without having more visions of soldiers being melted or mutilated by magic seared into his memory and dreams. Knights had a conditioned resistance to trauma, and Yunas had an abnormally developed desensitization to violence, but there was no reason to actively seek a lifetime of nightmares.
Thinking in an uncharacteristically dampened manner, he almost overflew the tent sitting in the middle of nowhere, guarded by two breka riders and half a dozen swordsmen. It was easy to miss, since it was alone and far ahead of the encampment he had his eyes on, which was half a mile further away from the reserves, but his senses did not completely fail him. The False Adenor would want to be able to view the field where his victory was imminent, and this tent was perched on a slight rise in the land which gave a far from ideal view of the battle, but anything closer or higher would be too vulnerable.
A plan formed in his mind immediately, effortlessly. The key was to make certain his breka could fly out again. Without it, he would be trapped and his mission would end in failure. The fact that he had to kill all of the guards before getting to the pretender was also trouble. If the False Adenor tried to flee, and had some mount to transport him quickly, he could save himself. Even Yunas couldn’t dispatch two riders and six swordsmen in an instant. Half as many, maybe, but this would take time.
But the banner was there – the False Adenor was flying the colors of the old monarch’s line, which his true son would have been able to claim. There was no question this tent contained his target, but Yunas detected something wrong with the picture. The guards must have seen him, but they had not armed their weapons. Swords remained sheathed, and lances in their saddle loops. They looked up at him expectantly, and suddenly he was struck by a new idea. He grinned from ear to ear and abandoned his original plan.
As he landed, the guards approached him calmly and he said, “Lord Quenari sent me.”
“You’re the one who’s supposed to . . .” one of the riders said.
“Yes.”
“Are you enough? Do you need us around?”
‘No, it’s my job. You guys just make like you got led away from the tent. That way you don’t bear any of the blame. I’ve been paid for this. You guys are just paid to leave at the right time.” Yunas had no idea how he knew to say all this, but it felt right.
And, more importantly, it worked. “All right. Swordsmen, head back to the encampment double time, or just disperse. If you’re real gutsy you can join the reserves. Alen, let’s take off and join the Lord’s forces.” The guard sounded relieved to give these orders, as if he had feared having a personal part in the pretender’s assassination. Yunas could tell that the guard was capricious about honorability, but thought himself a man of honor nonetheless.
Yunas suddenly felt a pang of disgust at himself – he had played a trick to avoid fighting a battle. He shook it off, the mission coming first, and strode to the tent just as his target stepped out. There was no mistaking him – he looked exactly like the photograph Anni had supplied.
“What’s going on here? Where’re the guards?” the disoriented pretender queried.
“Doesn’t look like they’re here,” Yunas noted, vicious smile back in place, “but I’m here to extend an invitation to you, on behalf of the king.”
The pretender took a step back, but knew there was no point. “Quenari betrayed me, didn’t he? Wanted to get his place in court back. I guess I knew. His alliance was always too good to be true.”
Eyebrows raised, the knight said, “you’re too smart to have been roped into something like this.”
The pretender shrugged, growing pale. As if stalling for time, trying to prolong his life, he explained, “on the retreat from the first battle between the king and Lord Damial, a bunch of the king’s men decided to ruin my fields and kill my wife. I had already been to rebel council, to hear what they had to say because they were getting more popular around my area, so after that I became more active, and didn’t think when a messenger from Quenari, who had heard what happened to me, offered me a part in his plan. It seemed like just the kind of chance I had been waiting for. It was all just blind rage. He had gone to some of my neighbors, who’d also had to deal with the retreating forces still in the middle of bloodlust, but I was the one that accepted. The rebels I was in with became the core of the revolution. I don’t suppose my story’ll help me any. I’ll go with you willingly.”
“It might help,” Yunas said, feeling an unfamiliar upwelling of pity. “Look, you haven’t been tricked by Quenari yet – he was about to send someone to kill you. I’m here because Quenari’s trying to dupe everybody, and we’ve got a little surprise for him. Let’s get out of here, and I’ll explain on the way. Can’t say what’ll happen to you, but I think the king might be in a better mood after all of this.”
Clearly a conflict of emotions and battling instincts, the False Adenor mounted the breka behind Yunas. The knight had gauged the abilities and temper of his prisoner, and judged him no threat. He was surprised how well Tayron’s plan was working out so far, and how everyone seemed willing to cooperate with it. That was the gods for you, always taking the fun out of everything. As Yunas explained the plan to the False Adenor, he could tell from the excitement in the man’s questions that he was eager to get another measure of vengeance – this time against Quenari.
Navigating the swiftest two-seat breka available through patches of arrow and rifle fire, Yunas quickly collected sweat down his neck. Not only was the breka fully loaded, but the armies below seemed suddenly to be firing everything they had upward. He had to push the beast of burden as fast as it could manage while still making the fine adjustments necessary to avoid getting killed. He finally saw that the king’s knights were attacking, and the peasants were firing upward indiscriminately.
“You’re an excellent pilot,” the False Adenor complemented in awe.
“Actually . . . this was the only test I didn’t get the highest score in the academy in. So . . . tell me that . . . if we get back alive,” Yunas breathed back. If he had been feeling his old cocky self, he would have been excited. He missed that edge, but at least he had lost it for a good reason.
After the tension of passing over the battlefield, crossing the distance to the capital was a breeze, and felt perilously short. If, by some strange luck, the rebels won even despite Quenari’s treachery, they could march on the palace with no more resistance than they had already defeated in the battle. Seeing this as they landed on the palace grounds, the False Adenor said, “we could have really done it, couldn’t we have? Quenari threw the king off and helped us, sure, but we still could have been a serious threat. Might have been able to keep control of a few towns. The king would have had to have listened to us.”
“You would have lost and died,” Yunas said conclusively.
“Maybe I would have,” said the pretender, “and the leaders of the revolt, and the thousands that fell on the battlefield. But we would have been fighting for ourselves instead of some lord, and the king would have to listen to what the rest needed. He’d have to worry about them rising up against him again. In fact, he’ll have to worry about that now, as long as he understands this wasn’t all Quenari’s doing.”
Yunas shrugged. “But every rebellion would just lose again.”
“Not necessarily, my dear knight. This is the first time the people have tried, so we had no idea to go about it. Give us a few more chances and we come back stronger each time. We outnumber you, after all.”
“I’d like to see you tell the king that,” the knight mused.
“If I am to die for my crimes, I might make those my last words.”
Yunas spat to indicate what he thought of defiant last words. The youthful knight stealthily brought his captive to one of the many escape routes out of the palace, using it to get in. This particular route led directly to a trapdoor in the Jaksen quarters In fact, when they got out of the damp, stuffy passage, they found themselves in Jaksen’s bedroom – still clear of personal effects since Terilon had not found time to unpack. The lord councilor himself was seated on the four-poster bed, terrifyingly impatient. Stiffly rising to his feet as they dusted themselves off and shut the trapdoor, Terilon spent no time giving the pretender a glance, instead leading them quickly out of the room.
Tayron joined them in the living room, and wordlessly led the way. In the corridor outside the Jaksen quarters, Bathis took his position, lagging behind to ward off anyone approaching from the rear. Their almost contemptuous faces did not reassure the False Adenor, who hoped Yunas would explain how he had come willingly and earnestly wanted to cooperate.
The way to the king was covered quickly, much to the captive’s relief. Feeling as if the walls were closing in on him, a queasy feeling of claustrophobia was quickly diminishing his ability to confront the king. He knew what was coming. Whatever these knights and lords thought of him, he was not stupid or unprepared. With the chances of success so slim, he had been ready for defeat from the start, and while the circumstances were a bit different than he had imagined, he still had to speak for those who had followed him this far. He had to make all the deaths count for something through this confrontation.
The king’s quarters had been cleared of prying eyes and ears before their arrival, no doubt much to the dismay of the king’s bodyguards, a hereditary force both fiercely proud and staunchly loyal, but still an added risk in uncertain times. Led to the same room where Terilon and Tayron had revealed the plan to the king, the False Adenor saw the man he had attempted to replace for the first time. It was a sickly figure, seated meekly in a chair too plain for a king. His robes were the right color, to be sure, but they were crushed, as if the man had slept restlessly in them. Careful not to derive too much satisfaction from the monarch’s evident distress, the pretender stood to attention and kept his face impassive, feigning country ignorance and naïveté in a way only a farmer-philosopher could.
“So you’re the one that wanted to replace me.” The voice was distinct and powerful, notwithstanding the ragged figure.
“Not really, sire.”
“I’m not doing so well, as you can see, so I’ll speak plainly. I have been taught to speak in the plural rather than use the pronoun ‘I”, but I assume you won’t mind if I break tradition. What’s your name – your real name I mean?”
Struggling against speechlessness, he answered, “Aniol of Rintas, highness.”
“Very well, Aniol. Was Lord Quenari allied with you, providing you with support to defeat me?”
Aniol realized that he was outmaneuvered. “Yes.”
“But the peasant rebellion did not start because of Quenari’s prodding. He simply used it to his advantage. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“If we bring Quenari to court, will you testify against him to this effect?”
This was the only chance he was going to get. The king knew it, which was why the question had been asked in the first place, but Aniol had no choice but to play the king’s game. “I, and those who followed me, did all of this for a reason, sire, and I would be betraying that purpose if, before testifying, I did not receive a guarantee that our grievances would be heard. I also must request amnesty for the common people in the rebel forces, since I cannot with good conscience aid your majesty when the men and women who participated in the cause are persecuted by you.”
“You ask a great deal, considering your life is in my hands.”
“My life was forfeit as soon as I agreed to lead this rebellion. Now, it is only a matter of details. I realize I have little to offer in exchange for what I ask, but I have a responsibility to try.”
The king didn’t look to be in the mood for such sentiments, but deferred judgment, saying, “Tayron, this is your play, what do you think should be done? This Aniol seems to me to be quite unreasonable to make demands, but I have been irritable lately, and was myself unreasonable before that.”
Aniol looked to the knight addressed by the king. This knight looked no more impressive than those next to him, but he spoke with the same dominating tone as the king. “He would have had his say anyway, in his own defense before the court. Maybe he thought that he’d be denied a court hearing, otherwise there was no reason why he would have required it as a condition of his testimony. So it’s only the matter of amnesty, which I think we’ve already discussed. We can’t put the entire rebel army in jail, so barring the leadership, none of the rest will have to suffer. So I think we’ve already agreed to do everything before Aniol asked for it.”
The king smiled. “It seems we’ve beat you to it, Aniol. So, I ask again, will you testify against Quenari.”
“If you make the promise of a hearing and the amnesty, publicly announce it and set it in writing, then I have no objections to testifying against Quenari. I would like some measure of vengeance against him.”
“You are a very tedious man, Aniol of Rintas. Very demanding.”
“I assure you, highness, that among the common people I led, I was considered too conservative for their tastes. I am sure many would have been dismayed that I hadn’t demanded a government that had representatives that spoke for them, or a redistribution of land and wealth, or perhaps a disbanding of the nobility. It takes a long time for a farmer to lose his patience, but many have.”
“You speak eloquently for a peasant.”
Nonplussed, Aniol answered, “Well, not all the views city folk have of the farmers are correct. Most of them aren’t, in fact. I haven’t met two farmers that thought the same way, but to hear how you in the cities talk about us, you’d think there was just one farmer copied over and over again to fill the fields.”
The royal eyebrows lifted in amusement. “I suppose I will have to take your word for that. Very well, you will have your guarantees. The time is running out, I suppose, and I will need to get ready. Time to get properly regal. It is pleasing to your king that he was able to meet with you in private before the unpleasantness that must soon follow. Please do not let what has past reflect on your attitudes toward him, for he was not in his right mind.”
“I did not think my king cared what a peasant thought of him.”
“You thought wrong.”