The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series) (9 page)

Davydd began to give his report, and Leah joined in every now and then with extra details, mentioning the mines, the few soldiers they’d found. Raven remained silent, doing his best to cool his temper, though every time he managed to dampen it somewhat, his wound gave another sickening throb, reminding him that he had put his life on the line not once but multiple times for these old fools, and his ugly mood would return, like a dying fire given fresh kindling.

The talk shifted to the Death Watchmen attack and to Raven’s relief, Tomaz took control of the report, telling them all exactly what had happened in the mountains, including what had happened with the Talismans. At the end of it, Elder Crane turned to Raven, his blue-gray eyes examining him carefully. But Raven was giving away nothing – years of practice before his sister Symanta had given him the ability to hide any emotion.

“Do you have anything to add Raven?” The Elder asked kindly.

Raven’s wound throbbed.

“I do not,” he said, his voice level and easy.

Leah and Davydd both shot covert looks at him, surprised. This was his first true meeting with the Elders since he’d broken into their Council before Aemon’s Stand armed with a sword, having incapacitated their guards and knocked out one of their premiere commanders; it was the perfect opportunity for him to show himself in a new, better light. But Raven knew that if he spoke his temper would take control and the situation would be much the worse.

“We would like to hear you speak,” said the soft voice of Ishmael.

“Indeed we would,” said Spader dryly.

“Tomaz speaks for me,” Raven said curtly. “Any questions you have will be answered by him and the others.”

The Elders all looked at him, no doubt thrown off guard by his impropriety. But they didn’t press him. They turned back to Tomaz and questioned him further, and when they were finished, the four of them were dismissed. Leah looked relieved that things had gone at least decently, and Davydd looked bored but glad the tedium was over.

But as they turned to go, Raven’s eyes fell on a map table, and he realized something that made him stop in his tracks.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, turning back to them. They all froze in what they were doing, almost comically surprised. It would appear they weren’t used to other Kindred speaking to them after they’d been dismissed.

Well, they revel in anarchy. Let them have a taste of it.

“Am I right in thinking that you plan to occupy the city of Roarke now that you have taken it?”

He gestured to the maps and the papers he had quickly scanned, and for a long moment no one seemed to want to talk. Warryn and Elder Dawn – the Just Elder, a draconian woman whom Raven had unknowingly antagonized at Aemon’s Stand – both looked like they were ready to have him whipped for insolence, but Crane spoke before they could.

“Yes,” said the Wise Elder, obviously choosing his words carefully. “The decision is Elder Warryn’s. As Elder of State, he feels it is best to occupy Roarke.”

“By occupying the city, we will take the advantage from the Empire and turn it to our side,” said Warryn officiously. His voice set Raven’s back teeth grinding against each other – it was the overbearing tone of a mediocre mind obsessed with its own power.

“I’m not much for strategy,” said Raven, “as my brothers were wont to tell me. But I
am
well versed in tactics.”

He pointed to the top map, his finger coming to rest on the illustrated city of Roarke, a perfect little duplicate of the actual metropolis just outside.

“If your strategy is to take advantage from the Empire using Roarke, then the best way to do that, tactically speaking, is to burn it to the ground.”

“Raven,” Leah said, grabbing him fiercely him by the elbow, her eyes shooting daggers, “you are overstepping yourself.”

Raven ignored her, and shrugged his elbow out of her grip, a move that sent new daggers of pain through his chest and made him draw in a hasty breath.

“You should still be in the recovery tent,” Elder Keri said, sizing him up once more. “You are obviously still in pain, let me take you back –”

“No,” Warryn said, his face an ugly, hateful smirk that said very clearly what he thought of Raven and his plan. “I want to hear this. It ought to be so …
enlightening.”

Some of the Elders shifted uncomfortably, but a few, Ishmael and Spader chief among them, were watching Raven with interest.

“The winter is coming,” Raven said slowly, doing all in his power not to openly sneer back at Warryn. “The Roarke Pass will be snowed in, and you will have to retreat back to the Kindred lands. That means this castle will be cut off. You can’t leave troops stationed here, they’ll be helpless against the might of the Empire, and when the armies of one of my – one of the Children, counterattack, you will lose this castle
and
countless innocent lives. Burn the castle, destroy the walls, and withdraw, leaving the city intact. The Commons know how to live off the land; if we just destroy the military encampments, we can return in the spring and reoccupy the city. The Empire knows I defeated Ramael –”

“The
Kindred
defeated Ramael, you just held the sword.”

“Do
NOT
interrupt me!” Roared Raven, and everything went silent. His vision had gone red and his temper was suddenly a raging inferno that had grabbed him by the throat.

“Or else what, idiot boy?” Elder Warryn demanded. Shock and affront found its way onto the faces of every single one of the gathered Elders, the only exception being Spader, who just seemed amused by the whole proceeding.

“Senile, maggot-mind fool!” Raven bit back before Leah could stop him.

The following quiet sharpened the air around them and pulled the moment taunt, stretching it until it was ready to snap shut on whoever chose to test it next.

“I will listen to no more of this,” Warryn said. He stood, and strode imperially out of the tent.

Raven wasn’t sure what it was about the man that made him follow. Maybe it was his air of superiority. Maybe it was the way he’d spoken, as if Raven deserved not even the barest hint of civility. Or maybe it was the past month and more of stress, anxiety, and nights spent sleeping on the rough mountain ground in order to help the Kindred, and being given not a hint of respect or credit for it. But whatever it was, it propelled him out of tent on the Elder’s heels despite a cacophony of cries from those gathered within.

“Stand and face me, you ignorant ass!”

The words cracked from his mouth like a whip striking the back of a slave; like Rikard, Prince of Lions, would have spoken. It demanded obedience and caused the Elder to falter in his stride.

They were in the middle of the camp, and all of the Kindred soldiers who were within hearing distance turned and stared in shock. Men sewing patches on shirts froze in mid-stitch; a man beating out dents in his armor slipped and hit his own thumb and cursed loudly before those nearby silenced him.

“How
dare
you call me such a thing?” Warryn growled. The tall Elder pulled himself up to his full height, his long robes, black with curling gold scrollwork across the chest and the hem, sweeping the ground in a wide circle. It made quite a majestic sight, and no doubt the watching Kindred expected Raven to immediately cower and beg forgiveness.

“I am a member of the Council of Elders,” Warryn called out for all to hear. “And I am clothed in immense power. You will treat me with the respect I deserve.”

Raven laughed, a loud nasty sound, almost manic. The Kindred nearby shifted uncomfortably, staring at him with looks of fear.

“I have stood before the Immortal Empress,” Raven said, “clothed as She has been for over a thousand years in the radiant power of the Diamond Crown. I have heard Rikard, the Prince of Lions, command a hundred rebel men and women to kill themselves by their own hands, and watched as they obeyed. I have seen Geofred, Prince of Eagles and Lord of Prophecy, look into the future and tell me
exactly
what horrors might occur should he wish to steer the world into chaos. I was the Prince of Ravens, and I have seen the world shake and tremble at the word of the Empress and Her Children. It is these same Children that hunt me, this same Empress who tried to have me assassinated. Every breath I take is in open defiance of the Empire and those who rule it – and you think I’m scared of
you
?”

“You owe me respect as an Elder of the Kindred!” Roared Warryn. He stepped forward, his hands balled into fists, but he looked suddenly wary.

Raven ignored him, and stepped forward as well. They were only a few paces apart now, and he could read the hatred written in Warryn’s eyes, and knew the Elder could see the contempt in his own.

“You’re an officious imbecile with no respect or dignity,” said Raven. “I told you honestly what I thought was for the good of the Kindred, and you turned your back on me and treated me as if I were beneath you. I am trying to save the lives of these people! My days of groveling at the feet of
anyone
are long gone. I stood before the onslaught of the Prince of Oxen and spat defiance in his face, and you think you with your pithy words and venomous looks can sway me from speaking my mind?”

A crowd had gathered around them. Raven felt Leah and Tomaz come up behind him, but he ignored them; his anger had him by the throat, and he had no desire to gain control again. Elder Warryn, on the other hand, was looking around with concern, realizing the tide of this argument was turning against him.

“I am telling you now that if you wish to gain an advantage using Roarke, you
must withdraw
all of the Kindred to Vale until the coming spring. You cannot hold the city. If you try to, you will see your people die and the city burn when the Children come to claim it.”

Warryn was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time, and the gathered crowd was deadly silent.

“You are a boy,” said Warryn, with pure contempt and all the arrogant certainty of pedestrian intelligence. “Your advice is lunacy. You understand nothing. I do not care who you are now, I know who you were, you were one of the Children. You have a mark on your soul that you cannot wash off. You are the spawn of the Tyrant, and I will never,
never
accept your help or advice, not if I were an inch away from death.”

“One of the Children is
dead!
” Raven said, amazed that this stupid, ignorant fool couldn’t see something as plain as the nose on his face. “They will come for me. And they will come for you. The Empress, who has never truly fought you, will be focused on nothing but retribution.”

“This is all ridiculous. You know nothing compared to me, I have hundreds of years of Kindred teaching to draw upon.”

“And I was one of the Children,” Raven said, “who beat the Kindred in every major confrontation in the last one thousand years. I am telling you that Roarke will burn, and thousands will die because of your stupidity. They will die because you underestimated what is coming for you, and because you did not heed my warning.”

He turned and left, walking straight toward the surrounding wall of soldiers, who parted to let him through without a single word, all watching him with a mixture of superstitious awe and ill-concealed dread.

Raven half expected the Kindred to arrest him sometime that night as he made his way back across the camp to the Healing tent, escorted by the forcible presence of Tomaz, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. But as the sun set and he found himself drifting off into a fitful sleep unfettered, he realized he had escaped the day unscathed.

And when he woke the next day no one even spoke about it. It was almost as if the meeting and shouting matching hadn’t happened at all. Tomaz and Leah both avoided the subject, and no one else seemed brave enough to talk to him. Truth be told, he was grateful – now that the moment had passed he felt a little ashamed of his actions. Only a little though. The man had had it coming. Officious fool.

And so the days passed. He spent the next week trying to escape the Healing tent, while Tomaz tried with equal spirit to keep him there. It was like a real-life game of chess – both of them had various allies throughout the camp who they turned to their side and set against each other, though none seemed to take it very seriously. In normal times they likely wouldn’t have gotten away with this kind of mischief, but the army had just won a spectacular battle and they were willing to play along in order to let off steam. The only thing that put an end to the covert war was when Tomaz caught him sneaking food from the mess tent and him offered a truce, saying he’d leave Raven be if he went to Elder Keri again; in the end he agreed. She examined him, removed his stitches, and proclaimed him fit, so long as he did no more than walk, sit, and stand – sword practice and sparring were out of the question. Raven grumbled a bit, but decided he was willing to accept this as a compromise.

On that day at the end of the week was the official procession of the Elders into the city, whereby the Kindred would take possession of Roarke and make it a new city among their nation, an addition to the lands of the Exiled Kindred.

The week’s delay had been requested by Major Autmaran. The recent captain had been promoted for his battlefield performance as well as the notable dearth of military officers in the aftermath of the Stand. Autmaran and the man directly above him, Commander Scipio, had needed the week to secure the huge city; the entire Kindred army had been involved in quelling leftover pockets of resistance, rotating in and out of the city in large groups, and only now did the officers feel it was fully secured. Raven knew this translated to mean they hadn’t been reasonably sure no one would try to kill the Elders during the procession, which didn’t surprise him. The Empire had an extensive propaganda campaign against the Kindred – the citizens of Roarke had no doubt been inundated with terrible stories of Exiled depravity.

Though upon entering Roarke himself, Raven was remarkably surprised by the state of it. From what he’d read of war and seen at Aemon’s Stand, he’d expected to see the city in ruins, but, to the contrary, it seemed mostly in tact. Even the people surprised him – some of the citizens did indeed look at the Kindred with deep, sunken eyes that showed stubborn resentment, but many, at least on the surface, seemed to pay them no mind. They just went about their business, which was exactly what the Kindred seemed to want from them.

The aristocracy of the city, the Elevated, High Blood, and Most High Blood, were another story. Rumor had it that these men and women, the ruling class of the city, had retreated into Ramael’s castle and barricaded it against the Kindred. Once the Exiles had taken the city their position was hopeless, but they refused to give it up. Rumor had it they’d even demanded Commander Scipio bow to them, pelting him with their own excrement, threatening to pray for the Empress to smite him where he stood. Undaunted, Scipio had ordered an assault on the castle keep, which was taken so easily it was laughable. The only real resistance had been those of the Most High who had remnants of the Old Blood, making them potential Bloodmages; these men had managed to kill scores of Kindred before they were taken down, conjuring flame with shouted enchantments. And in the end, when the doors to the private chambers were finally thrown open, it was found inside that each and every one of those who’d escaped had committed suicide, the men helping the women before turning their hands on themselves. This didn’t surprise Raven – to be taken captive by an Exile was the height of dishonor, and no member of the aristocracy who survived such an ordeal would ever be allowed back into society. They would instead be cast out and shunned, forced to live among the Commons. Such was the way the Empress regulated their obedience, and, as a consequence, few of the Blood were ever taken, and those that were often took their own life.

But what surprised Raven most was the number of Commons who lined the streets the day of the ceremonial procession, cheering as the Elders rode through the hastily repaired gates. The adulation only increased when the Kindred banner and battle standard passed into the city, flying at the head of the column. Women in plain brown homespun kissed their children and held them up so they could see what was happening. Men sang rousing choruses of old work songs. Jubilation came from many lips and throats, and any lingering suspicion or resentment was, for the moment, forgotten.

“Why did you drag me here again?” Raven asked Leah as they took in this sight. They were standing off to one side of the street, up on a scaffold that had been constructed out of simple wooden beams just for this ceremonial entrance. Tomaz was seated beside them, but he was quiet today. He looked rather smug though – he considered having Raven submit to Elder Keri’s inspection something of a personal victory. The man had become insufferable.

“Princeling,” Leah began, already exasperated, “the ceremony is necessary. Without it, the citizenry won’t know who – ”

“I know, I know, the Commons need to know who is in charge,” Raven interrupted, throwing her exasperation back at her. “They need to know who to turn to in times of need, they need to know what laws to follow, they need to know who they shouldn’t speak against. The ceremony is necessary because it shows them a hundred and one things about the people who now own them, and it gives them a reason to celebrate. I know. I’ve learned the lessons. But what I don’t know is why we have to watch it – it’s barely a children’s play compared to the processions I’ve seen through Lucien.”

Leah looked at him, clearly offended.

“What?” He asked, watching her warily, suddenly realizing he shouldn’t have spoken so freely – speaking with Leah was a tricky thing, and if one wasn’t careful it could often have painful consequences.

“We don’t
own
these people!” She exclaimed emphatically.

“So you’ll let them leave if they wish to live in the Empire?” He asked, as timidly as he could manage. It seemed like a fair question.

“No,” Leah said reluctantly, “but that’s a matter of
strategy
, which I know you don’t understand.”

Raven felt his jaw clench at the insult.

“We can’t let anyone know the size and strength of our force, nor the exact details of the fortifications still intact, so we have to –”

“For all your talk about how different you are from the Empire,” he broke in scathingly, “some things are very similar. You call yourselves the refuge of all those who are lost, all those who want a new life – but you deny the people of Roarke the right to choose their own side. It’s hypocritical at best and deceitful at worst.”

Leah looked at him in shock for a long moment, and then simply turned and left, descending the scaffold and making her way through the cheering crowd. Tomaz sighed heavily – a deep, crashing rumble, the settling of rocks in a cave, ominous and weary.

“You know that was unnecessary,” said the big man.

“Don’t you start now too,” Raven muttered, his ego bruised. “You know that on the surface there are quite a lot of similarities. Just because you do something for the right reason doesn’t mean it’s different in principle.”

“Oh I agree with you,” said Tomaz, surprising him. “I think this is a terrible way to deal with new members of the Kindred – and you and I both know that’s exactly what they are. The Empire does not tolerate dissent. The Blood knew that – they took the easy way out. If this city is ever taken again, if these men and women ever tell a Defender they were a citizen of Roarke when the Kindred ruled, they will be put to death as Exiles.”

“Exactly,” Raven said, his voice heavy, thinking of what he’d tried to tell Warryn and the Elders and now wishing he’d found a better way to go about it. He still wasn’t certain he wanted to throw his lot in with them, but he did know that innocent people didn’t deserve to die for their mistakes.

“Do you want to go after her and make up? You know if you apologize sooner she’ll be more likely to let it go.”

Raven sighed, knowing he should, but the pain in his shoulder and chest was still enough to make him ornery and he declined. The giant nodded and let the matter drop, and they both turned to watch the next Elder riding through the gates. It was Spader, who looked thoroughly discomfited to be riding a horse, though he was at least making a good show of it. He was dressed in his long, deep amber robes and looked quite impressive.

Ceremonies. One thing I’d hoped I’d left behind when I stopped being a Prince.

He looked around at the crowd again, trying once more to gage the reaction among the citizens of Roarke. Despite the open signs of jubilation, he could see that underneath feelings were most definitely mixed. Some were beside themselves with enthusiasm, waving banners with the Kindred dagger emblem or the rose and sword, but others stood behind them, watching quietly, faces dark and fearful.

Of course they’re frightened. They’ve been brought up to hate and fear these people, just like I was. They won’t get ride of that overnight.

And how could any of them help but doubt this new command by the Kindred would last very long? It may be the first time the castle of Roarke had been taken, but it was not the first time the Kindred had tried to strike against the Empire. And if the thousand-year reign of the Empress proved anything, it was that the Empire would
always
win back what it lost. The Kindred were destined to lose, had always been destined to lose, since the day the Empress, the Immortal Goddess, first took Her place on the Diamond Throne.

Raven wished there was someone he could talk to about this. He couldn’t talk to Leah; she would simply roll her eyes and provide seven ways his argument was inherently flawed. He couldn’t talk to Tomaz; the giant man had done his best to hear him out the first time Raven had brought the subject up nearly a month ago, but was unable now to do more than politely disagree. Both of them had made up their minds long ago that they would fight the Empire despite its strength and inevitability.

Raven looked up at the enormous bell tower that loomed up beside the distant castle keep over the tops of the Commons houses at the edges of the city. The clock face bore the telltale signs of Imperial Clockworking, the kind of project the Visigony were commissioned to do under the direction of Geofred.

The very thought of the Visigony made Raven’s skin crawl … they were also known as the Imperial Scholars, the ones who’d tutored him growing up. They were half men, half clockwork machine, preserved by a strange mixture of mechanics and magic that, while it couldn’t touch nor harm any of the Children, was still remarkably unpleasant to witness. Most of the Twelve took special pride in displaying their inhumanity, for they thought it placed them closer to the Empress and the Children, making them more and more immortal. A new one had been crafted for every century the Empress had reigned, adding to the original three who had been the first to help the Empress collect and read the prophecies. Those three, Vynap, Sylva, and Marnithack, were all more machine than man; what organic parts they still had left, such as eyes and tongue, were not their own, but substitutes found from compatible citizens. Lessons with the three of them had been … unpleasant.

He wondered idly if he approached the clock tower it would stop working. Sometimes that happened – all things made by Bloodmagic reacted to the touch of the Children. The abilities of the Bloodmages were based in large part on the Talismans themselves, and in particular based on the abilities of the Raven Talisman that could absorb the strength, senses, memories, and life force of any person the bearer killed. Raven himself had been present at many of their rituals as one of the Children. Those were experiences he had tried to block from his mind.

“
BOO!”