Daughter of Dusk (11 page)

Blood. James had made sure there was plenty of that. “I won’t become like you,” said Kyra. “Burning down half the city to save it marks you just as guilty as the
wallhuggers.”

“Then why are you still here?”

To that, she had no answer.

James shifted his position. Pain flashed across his face, and it was a few more moments before he could speak again. “I didn’t start out trying to destroy the city,” he said.
“I don’t take pleasure in the pain of others.”

In that, at least, Kyra believed him. There were some in the Guild who enjoyed violence—Bacchus, for one. Kyra had seen it on the few jobs they’d taken together. He’d smiled as
he beat his victims, and it had frightened Kyra to the core. James was different. He was ruthless, and he tolerated people like Bacchus, but everything he did, he did for a reason.

“After Thalia died,” he said, “I took possession of the Guild. It took me a year to weed out those who weren’t loyal to me. I solidified my control, and then I considered
what I wanted to do. For a long time, the Guild had become another tool of the wallhuggers. I put an end to that and thought,
Why not go further?
Who was it, after all, who decreed that
the fatpurses should keep their positions? Why should they dictate how we live and how we die?”

“And that was when you started infiltrating the Palace,” said Kyra.

“The wallhuggers don’t pay attention to their servants nearly as well as they should. I learned much about the upper levels of Forge simply with careful bribes.”

He’d learned much, but there had still been things he couldn’t get to, like secret documents, trade schedules, and guard assignments. For that, he’d needed a thief who could
get deep into the compound. He’d needed Kyra.

James continued. “At first I thought I would only go after the bad ones. The first wallhugger I targeted was named Hamel. He was the lowest kind of worm, and few people considered his
death a loss to Forge. Yet folk suffered nonetheless when I killed him. Those who’d been in his employ went hungry that winter, and the political gaps left by Hamel’s death were soon
filled by another.”

“Willem,” Kyra guessed.

“He was already Head Councilman at the time, but he gained allies as those who’d looked to Hamel were cast afloat.” James’s gaze swept across the cell, as if he were
viewing the myriad connections that held Forge together. “My point is, corruption in the city’s not like a scab to be torn away. It’s a tumor, spread throughout the body, and it
grows back when you excise it. You can’t remove a cancer without digging out healthy flesh.”

“But what’s the cost?” said Kyra. “What’s the point of destroying the cancer if the body dies as well?”

“What’s the point of having a body if it’s riddled with disease?”

Kyra shook her head to dispel the headache that was starting to take root. “You can’t mean that. You don’t really want to raze the city to the ground.”

“And you don’t really believe me capable of obliterating the city.” He locked his eyes on hers. “It’s pointless to talk in extremes, because none of it will
actually happen. But no matter how far we range with our philosophical fancies, the hard truth remains. You hold a blade now, Kyra, as does everyone who possesses power in this city. And every time
you wield this blade, you must decide how deeply you wish to cut.”

S E V E N

T
ristam was in his quarters, getting changed after his morning rounds when someone knocked on his door. A servant of Malikel’s bowed when
Tristam answered.

“Sir Willem has called an emergency Council meeting at the tenth hour to discuss several Demon Rider attacks that occurred this morning. Your presence is required.”

Demon Rider attacks? He immediately feared the worst. “Were the attacks at Brancel?”
Henril. Lorne.

“No, milord. Sir Malikel requires your presence because of your expertise with the Demon Riders, not because of any connection to Brancel. You are to observe the meeting and be prepared to
answer questions if called on.”

For a moment, he was selfishly relieved, though the attacks in question must have been bad if they warranted an emergency Council meeting. “I’ll be there.”

The clock had chimed half past nine a short while ago, so he didn’t have long. Tristam changed out of his plain tunic into more appropriate court finery—an embroidered silk tunic
with breeches and soft leather boots—and headed out the door.

The Council Room antechamber was a large room in its own right, lined with smooth black marble decorated with gold accents. A crowd had already gathered in anticipation of the meeting. Tristam
saw no sign of Malikel, but Kyra came through the door soon after he arrived. She wore a gown of wine-colored linen to accommodate the Council’s dress expectations, though she no doubt still
had at least one dagger strapped to her leg underneath. He knew she chose her dresses based on their sturdiness and how easily she could climb in them if needed. Her gaze drifted around the room,
not quite focusing on anything, and Tristam had to call her name twice to get her attention. That was almost unheard of. Kyra was nothing if not alert.

She raised tired eyes to him as he approached. “Ho, Tristam.”

“Are you all right?”

There was the slightest pause before she answered. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

He might have questioned her further, but a herald announced the beginning of the meeting, and the crowd filed through the double doors. On the far side of the main room was a raised platform
where the full Council sat in two semicircular rows of tables. Observing benches lined the floor between the door and the Council seats, and Kyra and Tristam settled near the back with other
observers of low rank.

Willem called the meeting to order, and a scribe took the stage. “Two farms and the guesthouse of one manor were attacked in the predawn hours. Two deaths have been reported thus far, and
several more were injured.”

Concerned murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Three attacks in one morning was alarming indeed. Tristam thought back to the day he and his friend Jack had stumbled upon a farm in the midst of a
raid. He still remembered the chaos, the fleeing people, the panicked bleats and bays of livestock. Jack had died that day at the hands of the Demon Rider Pashla and her companion.

The scribe finished speaking, and Willem took the stage. “This is the biggest threat that has faced the city since our war with Edlan twenty years ago.” Willem was a convincing
speaker when he wanted to be. He spoke with authority, punctuating his points with bold sweeps of his hand. “And our Defense Minister does nothing. The Demon Riders sleep safely in our forest
and pillage our fields at their pleasure. What can possibly be your justification for this, Malikel?”

“The Demon Rider threat must be met with caution,” said Malikel from his seat. His voice was level, though Tristam could sense anger just beneath. “I’ve explained this to
the Council many times. The Demon Riders are not a threat like Parna or Edlan that we should simply throw our soldiers at them. They refuse to face us in open battle. They know the forest
­better than we do, and they’re better at disappearing into its depths. Without a sound strategy, sending our soldiers to meet them would result in far more casualties than we currently
suffer.”

“You argue for a good strategy,” said Willem. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Our best course of action is to focus on defending our vulnerable farms and manors while we prepare our soldiers with new weapons and tactics. The Palace smithies are forging new spears
as we speak, and our soldiers are learning new formations for forest combat. We secure our farms first. Then we start driving the Demon Riders back and establishing larger and larger defensible
boundaries.”

“And how long before we’d be rid of the barbarians?”

“We’re already training private guard forces around Forge. The majority of our farms could be much better defended within a year.”

“The majority, you say. But the barbarians would still plague our people.”

“If you have a counter proposal,” said Malikel, his voice tight with impatience, “let’s hear it.”

Willem straightened and slowly swept his eyes across the Council. “As Head Councilman, I’m not usually involved in directly planning the city defense, but in trying times, when
demands outweigh what our Defense Minister is able to handle, I’m forced to take a more direct approach. I propose a systematic sweep of the forest with our soldiers.”

Tristam frowned. That was a horrible idea. Willem should have known better.

“That’s preposterous,” said Malikel, rising to his feet. “We do not have nearly enough men to do this. It would be sending them to their deaths, one battalion at a
time.”

“You’re right, Malikel, that as it stands we do not have enough troops to mount such an attack. But the laws of Forge give the Council authority to expand our defense forces from
within the city during times of need.”

Tristam’s head snapped up at these words. Willem couldn’t possibly mean…

“Are you suggesting conscripting soldiers from the city population?” said Malikel.

“Indeed, I am,” said Willem. “Circumstances are dire enough.”

“Dire enough to send untrained citizens to their deaths? Willem, the current raids are alarming, but even with the uptick in attacks, we still count the weekly casualties with one hand. If
we take your strategy and go on an offensive with untrained and underarmed peasants, we could lose hundreds, if not more.”

“What kind of city are we?” Willem’s voice rang through the hall. “Did Forge become the great city it is by shrinking into the corner at the first sign of an enemy? By
hiding like a mouse? Last month, our Defense Minister assured us the Demon Riders were a diminishing threat. Last night, we were called out of our beds by reports of not one, not two, but three
attacks. What will next month bring? The only way to protect ourselves is to remove the threat now. Our neighboring cities have already taken steps to fight the barbarians. Edlan’s people do
not suffer the shame of sitting by while their farms are ravaged. Do we of Forge continue to be meek, or do we step up and show our strength?”

Kyra shifted uncomfortably. Tristam gave her hand a quick squeeze and received a grateful smile in response. Kyra hated the farm raids as much as anyone, but it was hard for her to hear people
talk of Demon Riders as monsters and barbarians, to be reminded what kind of reaction she’d get if her secret was revealed.

Back on the platform, Willem raised his voice. “Answer me one question, Malikel. If we sweep the forest with the numbers I propose, given what you know about these clans, will we succeed
in driving them out?”

There was a long silence as all eyes settled on Malikel. The Defense Minister stood with one hand on his table, staring down at it as if he meant to crush it by thought alone. “We have a
reasonable chance at success,” he said slowly. “But our casualties will be many times theirs, and the citizens of Forge would be bearing a burden that should rightly fall to the
military.”

“Let the Council decide where the burden should fall,” said Willem. “I call for a vote.”

Tristam leaned forward, his eyes fixated on the Council as Willem called each Councilman in turn to speak his vote. As the numbers fell evenly on each side, the air in the room became
increasingly tense. When the last Council member gave his choice, Willem nodded. “The final tally is eleven for, eight against, and one abstain,” he said. “The measure is
passed.”

Tristam stayed motionless as the scope of what had just happened sank in. When Willem formally ended the meeting, the room filled with the sounds of a hundred different conversations. He glanced
at the stage to see Malikel in forceful dialogue with one of the Councilmen who had voted in support of Willem.

The crowd filed out, and Tristam waited with Kyra in the courtyard for Malikel. Servants were already running from the Council building, foregoing the pathways and running directly over the snow
in their haste to carry their masters’ messages. Councilmen and courtiers split off into groups, some huddled in quiet conversation, others shouting. When Malikel finally appeared, he was
angrier than Tristam had ever seen him. Tristam got the impression that anyone in his way would have simply been knocked down.

“Follow me,” he said.

Once they were in Malikel’s study with the door closed, the Councilman turned to address them.

“Were you able to hear the proceedings?” he asked. When Kyra and Tristam indicated that they had, he continued. “Willem knew I wouldn’t support a conscription of the
citizenry. A similar thing was done in Minadel. It’s how I became a soldier, and I’ve seen what happens when you throw peasants into battle with no training,” said Malikel.
“But the Council is scared, as is the nobility, and I’m bound by the oaths I’ve taken to uphold the will of the Council.”

“Is there any way to overturn this?” asked Kyra.

“A vote this close can be brought up before the Council for reconsideration. But it can only be done once, and we cannot count on any of the other members changing their vote.”