The Crimson Crown. Cinda Williams Chima

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      “What made you decide to tell us now?” Han asked.

      Tears welled in Willo’s eyes. “What happened to your mother and sister—I couldn’t help thinking that if I had confronted Gavan Bayar years ago, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. At the same time, it seemed to be more evidence that he was unassailable.”

      “Why is it,” Dancer said, “that we are miserable and guilty, and Bayar is carefree?”

      “That’s going to change,” Han said. His pulse accelerated. Once again, he imagined his enemy down on the bricks, his black blood pooling around him. He longed to see the arrogance slide from Bayar’s face, replaced by fear and shock, and then a blank nothing. Could a political, blueblood victory ever be as satisfying as confronting Bayar toe-to-toe and blade-to-blade—amulet-to-amulet?

      Dancer’s voice broke into Han’s thoughts. “You told me before that you still have Bayar’s ring,” he said to Willo. “Could we see it?”

      Willo nodded. She rose and crossed to the hearth. She lifted a loose stone where the chimney met the wall of the lodge and thrust her hand behind, retrieving a small linen bag. Settling back onto the chair, she unknotted the cord and dumped its contents onto her palm.

      It was a heavy gold ring, engraved with two falcons, back to back, their claws extended, emeralds for eyes. Just as Willo had said. Han’s gut twisted in recognition. “I’ve seen that signia before. It matches Bayar’s amulet. It’s one of the emblems of Aerie House.”

      “I’ve asked myself why I kept it,” Willo said, weighing the ring in her hand. “I certainly had no desire for a keepsake. But in a way, I felt like it gave me power over him. Because I had proof of what he’d done if I ever decided to use it.”

      “He doesn’t seem worried about being exposed,” Han said, “since he’s wearing the matching flashpiece.”

      “These are legacy pieces,” Willo said. “He wouldn’t want to give up an amulet as powerful as that. By now he likely considers himself safe.”

      Willo returned the ring to its pouch, cradling it in her hands. “I’m thinking it would be better to seize the offensive on this, and not wait for Bayar to come after us.” She fingered her hair, looking at Han. “I’m an artist. Not a strategist. That’s why I asked you to come. Maybe, among the three of us, we can make a plan.”

      A cartload of responsibility settled onto Han’s shoulders. He didn’t want to have to answer for any more innocent lives.

      “We already know about the risks,” he said. “I think we need to think about what you hope to gain by exposing Bayar. That might help you decide whether to go forward.”

      “I will go forward,” Willo said flatly. “I have decided.”

      Dancer lifted his chin. “I’m not running away from him, and I’m not leaving the Fells. This is our home. That’s decided, too. What we need to talk about is how to do it, who should do it, and when.”

      They sat in silence, each lost in thought.

      “Well,” Willo said finally. “If we tell what happened, in a public place, to a large enough audience, Bayar won’t have a hope of keeping it quiet by killing us.”

      “It needs to be an audience of bluebloods,” Han said. “Wizards, especially. People the Bayars can’t eliminate or ignore.”

      “And we need to provide compelling proof so it can’t be denied or explained away,” Dancer said.

      “What about Fellsmarch Castle?” Willo said. “A joint audience with the queen and her council?”

      “But the only wizard on the council is Lord Bayar,” Han said. “The queen does not have a problem with intermarriage between clans and wizards. The ones who will put the heat on Bayar are his peers—other wizards. We need to speak to them directly, or Bayar can carry whatever tale he likes back to Gray Lady.” An idea took shape in Han’s mind—a perilous streetlord plan. “I say we walk onto his turf, just like Bayar did on Hanalea. We need to show face—stick a blade into the heart of his power. We need to show we aren’t afraid of him.”

      Dancer leaned forward. “What are you saying?”

      “I’ll take this story to the Wizard Council on Gray Lady,” Han said.

      “You’re right, Hunts Alone—the Wizard Council needs to hear this,” Willo said. “But I should be the one to tell it.”

      “No.” Han shook his head. “You can’t go to Gray Lady. It’s too risky.”

      Willo’s lips tightened. “You just said that you want to diminish Bayar’s power by challenging him, by showing face, as you call it. You want to prove that he doesn’t always win. Who better to do that than me—the person he wronged in the first place?”

      Han pictured the council’s reaction to a copperhead in their inner sanctum. “You don’t want to put yourself through that,” he said.

      “I agree,” Dancer said. “If you confront Bayar, then it should be at Fellsmarch Castle, not on Gray Lady.”

      Willo turned to Han. “But you just said that Gray Lady would be the best place.”

      “I did,” Han admitted. “It would be the best place for me to do it.”

      Dancer pushed to his feet. “You? You’re not even involved with this. I’ll do it.”

      Han rose also. “I am involved. You’re my best friend. I have to go to Gray Lady anyway, being on the council. At least I’d have some hope of getting in.”

      “What about getting out?” Willo said. “You already told us that Bayar is likely to set a trap for you.”

      “I’m the one should take the risk,” Han said. “I’m the one who might gain from it.”

      “How is that?” Dancer broadened his stance and folded his arms. “I thought we were doing this to protect ourselves and hold Bayar accountable.”

      “Well. Right,” Han said. “But anything that damages the Bayars benefits me.”

      Now Willo levered to her feet, making it a three-way stand-up argument. “Bayar has been haunting me for years. Don’t you think I deserve to go face-to-face with him? This isn’t about politics. And it can’t be about what’s between you and Bayar. Consider this: If Bayar kills you, it enhances his reputation. If he kills me, it damages him.”

      “That’s too high a price to pay,” Dancer whispered, touching her shoulder. “For us, anyway.”

      “Look,” Han said. “I think I know a way to get in and out of the Council House on Gray Lady. Tomorrow, I’ll take Dancer with me as far as the entrance, so he knows the way. If that goes well, we’ll all go there together to confront Bayar.”

      After a bit more back and forth, they came up with a rudimentary plan, contingent on what Han learned at the council meeting.

      That night, Han tossed and turned on his narrow sleeping bench, consumed by worry. I can’t СКАЧАТЬ