The Burning White (55 page)

“Don’t underestimate a thirst for justice. Or the fear of the Guiles. It may lead someone to strike first. And even an allegation from a sufficient source would be enough to stop our Prism-elect from becoming Prism in truth.”

“No,” Andross said.

“I’m just telling you, it’s a card you ought to consider in your little games. There are other, better people who would make fine Prisms.”

“I have plans for him, and you will not—you will not!—destroy him. I’ll find out about anyone who comes to you.”

“You won’t harm them.” She said it with a whipcrack in her voice, and he looked at her, surprised.

“No,” he said. “I’ll pay them off. But carefully, in such a way that it doesn’t encourage more accusations.”

“Father,” Karris said, and there was no mockery in her voice at using the term, which made his brow knit. “Zymun cannot become Prism. He’s stupidly impulsive and rapacious already. If you put more power into his hands . . .”

“I’m not an idiot,” Andross sneered. “Of course he’ll never be Prism. But it doesn’t mean he can’t be useful in the interim.”

What?! “You’ve brought a fire into our house, and locked all the doors and chained all the gates. I hope you know what you’re doing better than my brothers did, or it’ll all be ashes again. This time for House Guile.”

Andross pursed his lips. “You don’t have to meet with him. Ever. I’ll take care of it.”

Surprised, she said, “Thank you.” And she meant it.

It was an odd thing, to know what she knew now, from the folio. Andross surely knew all the worst parts of what she’d read. He’d surely participated in some of them, and then had hidden that knowledge from even most (or all?) of the Colors now serving. He had participated in and ordered and committed murders.

But so had Orea Pullawr.

Karris found herself unwilling to forgive her old mentor, but also unwilling to condemn her. Why was it so different with Andross? Only because he seemed to truly enjoy being hated?

Then why did it trouble her so when he partially did the right thing?

Reluctantly, Andross said, “Now, what’s this about something we’re missing that’s going to lose us the war? Zymun? You think he’s going to wreck the effort?”

“No. I mean, I’m sure he’d tear apart the Seven Satrapies eventually—but no.”

“What, then?” he asked irritably. He glanced to the edge of the yard, where Grinwoody had appeared, but waited respectfully. Andross had other business to attend to.

“It’s my brother.”

And then something fell into place, and her skin turned to goose-flesh that had little to do with the morning’s cool air. She’d thought it a hundred times: Why me, Orholam? Why would You want me as Your White? And this was the answer: he was her brother, and she was a warrior. She was the only one who could stop him.

“Your brother the Wight King, I presume, not one of the ones who are ash?”

She took a breath and closed her eyes. Just when she wanted to see him as human. “Yes, the living brother.”

“I’m waiting on tenterhooks,” Andross said.

“He’s going to attack us,” Karris said. “Here. Soon.”

“I looked into those rumors. Nothing to them.”

“This is not from any rumor.”

“You’ve had words from spies? Which ones? Where?”

Karris chewed on her lip.

“What is this . . . ?” Andross asked.

“He’s my brother. I know him. I can just . . . feel it.”

Andross’s face lit with incredulity. “No, dear. You
knew
him. You’ve seen him one time in almost twenty years. He is not who he was before two wars and the fire that took him.”

“He’s my brother. And he’s going to strike first, just as he tried to strike first against Dazen.”

“You think he hasn’t learned his lesson from how that turned out for him?” Andross asked. “He was a child then. A boy amid the temperamental gang of his brothers, who thought their sister was being taken in by Guile deceit. He’s had a lot of years since then, and
everything
he’s done has been smart and forward thinking. He’s got supplies pouring into his forces because he didn’t let his men burn the fields as they marched through; they didn’t destroy the mills and the orchards. They left lambs and calves behind. He means to rule, not just conquer.” Andross lowered his voice. “He can win through sheer patience, Karris. If he attacks us now? He could lose everything.”

“But you’re counting on him waiting. Waiting gives you time to make something else happen that he can’t foresee.”

“Time is on his side.”

“Only if he wants to rule,” Karris said. And she thought of the look in his eyes when she’d met with him, a look of hatred implacable.

Andross tilted his head. “Of course he wants to rule. I just told you what he’s done to prepare—”

“To prepare for an assault on us. Koios doesn’t care how many of his own people die. What if he doesn’t want to rule? What if he just wants vengeance on all of us for what we’ve done? Regardless, it’s easier for him to build his new paradise on our graves.”

Andross scowled, thinking it over, but then his scowl softened, and she already knew what he was going to say. “We’ve no reason to believe what you’re saying.”

“I just
gave
you a reason,” Karris said.

“Your intuition? That’s not reason. That’s exactly the opposite of reason; that’s a feeling. A worry. You want to base our war plan on your intuition now? Well! Let’s recall our spies. What a waste of time, trying to actually find things out! We can just
feel
what our enemies are going to do from now on! It’ll be so much more efficient!”

“Has anyone told you recently how much of an asshole you are?”

“No. But only because they’re afraid of me.”

“Well, I’m not.” It was actually true at the moment she said it. And this, too, felt right. Her purpose was unfolding before her with every action that was in line with the Blackguard she was and every word she spoke that was true.

“Good for you. Are you going to say it now? Will it make you feel better?”

Karris didn’t take the bait, didn’t call him an asshole or any of the other words that so aptly applied. She said, “I’m taking over command of the drafters’ training myself. Today. I’ve been helping for a long time, but they’re all mine now. And I’m reclaiming a fair percentage of the incomes I’d allowed you to divert from Chromeria funding. I’ll be using them here to shore up the islands’ defenses.”

“You will not. I’ll not allow it. Also, we need to have a conversation about those pet luxiats of yours. Not now, but—”

“I’m fighting alongside you, father. You ask yourself, Is your time so worthless that you can throw it away in fighting against me instead? I require less money than you might lose if a single galley with supplies were plundered on its way here from Ruthgar.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, but if I let you do this, then—”

“No! This is not a trade. It’s not a game. You do what you must to save the satrapies. That’s exactly what I’m doing, too.”

“And when Ironfist arrives? You’ll do what you have to then, too?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, and she felt it to the core of her being: this, too, was true.

Andross turned to go, but then stopped. “I’ve been intending to give you a gift, but I’m afraid it’s fallen through.”

“A gift?”

“Yes. Gavin’s old room slave, Marissia. I know you have . . . missed having her help. It turns out she didn’t run away after all. She was kidnapped. I traced her to an island off the Ruthgari coast where she was imprisoned. But it turns out she escaped with the help of mercenaries or pirates. One assumes she must have been desperate indeed to throw herself on the mercies of such people, but at least they didn’t murder or enslave the servants on the island, so there is some reason to hope. Unfortunately, the lord those servants believed they were serving doesn’t actually exist, so I’ve no more leads on who took her in the first place. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know you were right about her innocence, and that she is likely still alive. Who knows, maybe she’ll come back to take up her chains once more.” He smiled thinly.

No, Marissia would fear she was labeled a runaway. She’d surely believe that if she returned they would sell her to some lesser house—if not to a brothel or the mines. It was unlikely she’d heard Gavin had manumitted her in his will. Even if she had, she’d still have good reasons to fear coming back.

But all this was a smokescreen, Karris knew. Andross had been the one who’d ordered Marissia’s kidnapping. Not that she could tell him she knew that.

So what did this mean? It was probably half true. He’d taken Marissia off the table himself, but had meant to keep her in reserve—thus, not murder but kidnapping and imprisonment, likely on one of his own islands. But then she’d escaped.

Good for her.

Oh, Marissia, how do I let you know that I mean you no ill? I would give you back your old position as spymaster in a second! But I couldn’t keep you safe.

Go, Marissia, go and find yourself a good life.

If there are any left to be found in these war-racked lands.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to muddle through as best I can without her,” Karris said. “Thank you for . . . making the effort.”

He stared at her closely, first as if waiting for her to say something cutting, as if her thanks was mere setup, but then seemingly surprised it wasn’t. “Again,” he said, then momentarily looked as if he were waffling whether to go on. “Again I see what Gavin liked so much about you.”

He’s gonna say ‘weakness.’ He’s gonna punch me in the gut with
something
next.

But Karris forced her tense muscles to relax, and the insults to lie quiet on her tongue. Even if he hit her with something awful next, she was the White. She could do this.

For just a moment, Andross’s eyes sparkled as if he knew exactly what she was feeling. A smile like none she’d ever seen on his face flashed, open and roguishly knowing, utterly beguiling. It dropped another twenty years from his aspect.

Then it was gone, and he was the old Andross once more—and he turned and left without another word.

And, remarkably, that was that. She took command of the drafters, and she took the money she needed, and his people did nothing to stop her.

Well, holy shit. It worked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What order?” Halfcock said.

But terror had splashed over his face, and it drained away too slowly for Teia to miss it.

“Is that how we’re going to do this?” Teia asked. “Really?”

“What are you doing, Teia? Where did you learn to do all this?” Halfcock asked as if he weren’t paralyzed on the floor, utterly helpless.

“It was a good fight,” Teia said. “You didn’t blink when faced with an invisible opponent. You’ve got balls of steel. Balls that I let you empty first, so you’re welcome for that.”

Halfcock swallowed.

“Seems like a nice lady,” Teia said.

“Just a whore.”

“Huh. Too bad, then. Just another innocent killed in this war. But one has to be certain.” Teia shrugged.

Orholam have mercy, is this who I’ve become? Casually threatening the murder of innocents?

“You’re not with them,” Halfcock said, stunned. “You’re hunting them!” Obviously, the only Shadows he knew of were the Order’s assassins. “That’s—that’ s—that’s wonderful! They were threatening me!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to believe me,” Halfcock said. “You have to believe me! I am not in the Order. I swear by Orholam! I swear to God!”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “Who’s Eliazar? Husband?” Teia asked.

“Son,” Halfcock said, defeated. “From her first marriage.”

“First marriage?”

“
Shit,
” Halfcock said. “Look, can you let me—”

“Do I look like a fool to you?”

“Aliyah’s my wife,” Halfcock said.

“You’re not forbidden to marry,” Teia said. “Why the big secret?”

“Not a secret from
us
, a secret from
them
.”

“
Us
, Halfcock? It’s so hard to tell what a traitor means when he uses that word. Which ‘us’?”

“
Us
, us! I’m not a traitor! I mean the Blackguard. Come on! I had to keep it secret from the Order.”

“Now, why would you have to keep secrets from the Order?” Teia asked.

“I never really followed them. I was waiting for the perfect moment to betray them. I could run away if it were just me. I don’t have family, but Aliyah does, and I knew the Order’s vengeance would be terrible. You have to believe me. I was going to redeem myself.”

“Redeem yourself, huh? Now, what’d you do that requires redemption?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I swear!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Please. I know you all hate me. I know I did stupid shit when I was a kid. Yeah, I was an asshole. But I was a
kid
. I’ve been paying for that for longer than you’ve been alive. You’re gonna kill me for that? You want to know why they gave me the name Halfcock?”

“Not really,” Teia said.

“Our trainer said I was so fast that if I were anyone else, he’d be warning them about going off half-cocked. It was a compliment. But they hated me. So they called me Halfcocked around the trainers and Halfcock everywhere else. They told every new season of recruits I had the smallest cock in the Blackguard. They shit on everything good in my life. Samite was the worst of ’em, fucking man-hating tribadist. You tell me, you think she’s fast enough to hit me in the jaw if she didn’t throw that punch out of the blue?”