Chasing the Prophecy
Page 20
“Very dramatic,” Copernum approved glibly. “Tell me, why are you wearing the blindfold now?”
“Partly as a courtesy,” Galloran said. “I was unsure whether you would want the emperor to know we had conversed.”
“You told me not to play the fool,” Copernum said. “Let me be direct. The emperor is not my foe. I have kept Trensicourt intact by maintaining positive relations with Felrook. I have nothing to hide from Maldor. If the emperor cares to know, I would happily divulge all we discuss this night. I would not do so out of disloyalty toward Trensicourt. I would do it to protect Trensicourt. I would do it so that men who care about Trensicourt might be permitted to run this kingdom rather than callous imperial governors.”
Galloran began untying his blindfold. “By your description, are you not becoming an imperial governor yourself?” Galloran removed the blindfold, revealing one brown eye, the other blue. His gaze was hard.
Rachel did not appreciate the reminder that agents of Maldor were observing all that Galloran saw. She loved and trusted Galloran, but the thought made those mismatched eyes seem sinister. At least they weren’t focused on her.
Copernum looked mildly disconcerted by the stare. “Dolan does not take orders from Felrook. Neither do I. We make certain allowances to preserve the peace.”
“I know plenty about the allowances you have made,” Galloran said. “More than enough to label you a traitor and have you hanged.”
Copernum bristled, but he held his tongue for a moment. He took a bite from a fat wedge of cheese and chewed thoughtfully before responding. “I wondered how long it would take before this discussion turned unpleasant. You have not yet been crowned, sir. In fact, you have left your alleged right to the throne unclaimed for years. Currently, Dolan is custodian of this kingdom and holds the highest legal authority.”
“Are you insinuating I will have to take Trensicourt by force?” Galloran asked.
Copernum shrugged casually. “Do I think you could? Possibly. Martyrs tend to win the best reputations. As far as this kingdom is concerned, you have been dead for more than ten years. Your repute has grown accordingly. You have been aggrandized into a folk hero, more legend than man. Your agents have whispered rumors foretelling your return for months, and the rumors have taken hold. The city is waiting for you, watching for you, many not believing, but most hoping. I expect you could rally many to your cause.”
“Not enough?” Galloran asked.
“That depends. As of yet I have refrained from planting rumors of my own. Rumors that Galloran sold his eyes and his loyalty to the emperor to buy his freedom. Rumors that Galloran has been living in imperial luxury while the people of Trensicourt have toiled in doubt and fear. Rumors that Galloran lost his mind at Felrook, leaving him driven to fight Maldor at all cost, even if it means destroying the kingdom in a hopeless war. These and many other stories could be circulated. In Trensicourt nothing moves faster than rumors.”
“Why have you refrained?”
“I was not yet sure whether you were my adversary. We do not have to be enemies. It is likely that you could lead Trensicourt far more effectively than Dolan. Of course, if we become enemies, I will have to remind you that many of the best fighting men of Trensicourt are unswervingly loyal to their liege lords, the nobles. And the nobles are loyal to Dolan. And to me. Naturally, if we needed imperial aid to maintain control of Trensicourt, Felrook would gladly intervene.”
Galloran finally began to lose his temper. “If you bring imperial troops into Trensicourt, they will never leave.”
“We have never allowed an imperial host into the city for that precise reason,” Copernum hurriedly agreed. “We would only consider such rash action if our government were threatened.” He grinned like a shark.
Galloran gave a nod. One nostril twitched. His whole body looked tense, ready to snap. He almost managed to keep his tone conversational. “You have spoken plainly. Let me be equally clear. I have already been in communication with many of the lesser lords, as well as some key members of the upper aristocracy. You might be surprised how many of the blue bloods remain loyal to the crown. If you force my hand, tomorrow I will offer an ultimatum to the nobles of Trensicourt—side with their king or perish as traitors. I have no intention of waging open war to reclaim my kingdom. My foes will be eliminated, and we will see where their leaderless minions stand afterward. There are insufficient imperial troops to reach this region in time to hinder me. If you were foolish enough to try to summon them, even your most stalwart supporters would abandon you. A revolution won’t take months or weeks. It will require three days.”
“Well spoken,” Copernum conceded. “A skeptic might wonder how you propose to collectively assassinate the most powerful men in the kingdom.”
Galloran glanced at Rachel. With a jolt of panic she realized he was asking for a demonstration. Something to intimidate Copernum. The tension in the room was palpable, both sides trying to seem calm and in control, each side wondering how much the other was bluffing. The negotiation could go either way. A lot was riding on how she performed.
Rachel told herself that she had practiced these techniques for months. But what if she pushed too hard and the suggestion failed? What if she didn’t push hard enough? Copernum was a cunning man. What if he had studied how to resist Edomic suggestions? What if he was immune?
The moment was passing. Doing nothing would be the same as failure. Mustering her will and relying on her training, Rachel spoke a pointed Edomic suggestion. Copernum flopped to the floor, striking his cheek on the edge of the table on his way down. Relieved that the directive had worked so well, she spoke again, and his body went rigid. Io crouched beside him and ran a forefinger across his throat.
Rachel briefly met eyes with Galloran. His glowing approval reflected her quiet elation, reinforcing the feeling of triumph. Then she thought about displacers watching her little display through those same eyes, and the emotion was tainted.
Copernum remained immobile for longer than normal. A full ten seconds elapsed before he arose, looking pale and shaken, a bruise starting to form on his cheek. “A compelling exhibition,” he sniffed, letting his worried gaze dance between Rachel and Galloran. He reclaimed his seat, brushed off his sleeves, and tried to regain his composure.
“I invite skeptics to doubt my capabilities,” Galloran said, his voice iron. “But any skeptic would have a poor knowledge of Trensicourt if he hoped to stand against the tide of humanity that will rise up to welcome their king home.”
“Partly as a courtesy,” Galloran said. “I was unsure whether you would want the emperor to know we had conversed.”
“You told me not to play the fool,” Copernum said. “Let me be direct. The emperor is not my foe. I have kept Trensicourt intact by maintaining positive relations with Felrook. I have nothing to hide from Maldor. If the emperor cares to know, I would happily divulge all we discuss this night. I would not do so out of disloyalty toward Trensicourt. I would do it to protect Trensicourt. I would do it so that men who care about Trensicourt might be permitted to run this kingdom rather than callous imperial governors.”
Galloran began untying his blindfold. “By your description, are you not becoming an imperial governor yourself?” Galloran removed the blindfold, revealing one brown eye, the other blue. His gaze was hard.
Rachel did not appreciate the reminder that agents of Maldor were observing all that Galloran saw. She loved and trusted Galloran, but the thought made those mismatched eyes seem sinister. At least they weren’t focused on her.
Copernum looked mildly disconcerted by the stare. “Dolan does not take orders from Felrook. Neither do I. We make certain allowances to preserve the peace.”
“I know plenty about the allowances you have made,” Galloran said. “More than enough to label you a traitor and have you hanged.”
Copernum bristled, but he held his tongue for a moment. He took a bite from a fat wedge of cheese and chewed thoughtfully before responding. “I wondered how long it would take before this discussion turned unpleasant. You have not yet been crowned, sir. In fact, you have left your alleged right to the throne unclaimed for years. Currently, Dolan is custodian of this kingdom and holds the highest legal authority.”
“Are you insinuating I will have to take Trensicourt by force?” Galloran asked.
Copernum shrugged casually. “Do I think you could? Possibly. Martyrs tend to win the best reputations. As far as this kingdom is concerned, you have been dead for more than ten years. Your repute has grown accordingly. You have been aggrandized into a folk hero, more legend than man. Your agents have whispered rumors foretelling your return for months, and the rumors have taken hold. The city is waiting for you, watching for you, many not believing, but most hoping. I expect you could rally many to your cause.”
“Not enough?” Galloran asked.
“That depends. As of yet I have refrained from planting rumors of my own. Rumors that Galloran sold his eyes and his loyalty to the emperor to buy his freedom. Rumors that Galloran has been living in imperial luxury while the people of Trensicourt have toiled in doubt and fear. Rumors that Galloran lost his mind at Felrook, leaving him driven to fight Maldor at all cost, even if it means destroying the kingdom in a hopeless war. These and many other stories could be circulated. In Trensicourt nothing moves faster than rumors.”
“Why have you refrained?”
“I was not yet sure whether you were my adversary. We do not have to be enemies. It is likely that you could lead Trensicourt far more effectively than Dolan. Of course, if we become enemies, I will have to remind you that many of the best fighting men of Trensicourt are unswervingly loyal to their liege lords, the nobles. And the nobles are loyal to Dolan. And to me. Naturally, if we needed imperial aid to maintain control of Trensicourt, Felrook would gladly intervene.”
Galloran finally began to lose his temper. “If you bring imperial troops into Trensicourt, they will never leave.”
“We have never allowed an imperial host into the city for that precise reason,” Copernum hurriedly agreed. “We would only consider such rash action if our government were threatened.” He grinned like a shark.
Galloran gave a nod. One nostril twitched. His whole body looked tense, ready to snap. He almost managed to keep his tone conversational. “You have spoken plainly. Let me be equally clear. I have already been in communication with many of the lesser lords, as well as some key members of the upper aristocracy. You might be surprised how many of the blue bloods remain loyal to the crown. If you force my hand, tomorrow I will offer an ultimatum to the nobles of Trensicourt—side with their king or perish as traitors. I have no intention of waging open war to reclaim my kingdom. My foes will be eliminated, and we will see where their leaderless minions stand afterward. There are insufficient imperial troops to reach this region in time to hinder me. If you were foolish enough to try to summon them, even your most stalwart supporters would abandon you. A revolution won’t take months or weeks. It will require three days.”
“Well spoken,” Copernum conceded. “A skeptic might wonder how you propose to collectively assassinate the most powerful men in the kingdom.”
Galloran glanced at Rachel. With a jolt of panic she realized he was asking for a demonstration. Something to intimidate Copernum. The tension in the room was palpable, both sides trying to seem calm and in control, each side wondering how much the other was bluffing. The negotiation could go either way. A lot was riding on how she performed.
Rachel told herself that she had practiced these techniques for months. But what if she pushed too hard and the suggestion failed? What if she didn’t push hard enough? Copernum was a cunning man. What if he had studied how to resist Edomic suggestions? What if he was immune?
The moment was passing. Doing nothing would be the same as failure. Mustering her will and relying on her training, Rachel spoke a pointed Edomic suggestion. Copernum flopped to the floor, striking his cheek on the edge of the table on his way down. Relieved that the directive had worked so well, she spoke again, and his body went rigid. Io crouched beside him and ran a forefinger across his throat.
Rachel briefly met eyes with Galloran. His glowing approval reflected her quiet elation, reinforcing the feeling of triumph. Then she thought about displacers watching her little display through those same eyes, and the emotion was tainted.
Copernum remained immobile for longer than normal. A full ten seconds elapsed before he arose, looking pale and shaken, a bruise starting to form on his cheek. “A compelling exhibition,” he sniffed, letting his worried gaze dance between Rachel and Galloran. He reclaimed his seat, brushed off his sleeves, and tried to regain his composure.
“I invite skeptics to doubt my capabilities,” Galloran said, his voice iron. “But any skeptic would have a poor knowledge of Trensicourt if he hoped to stand against the tide of humanity that will rise up to welcome their king home.”
