Nolyn Page 22

  “And now?” Amicus asked.

  “I’ve reached the point where I’m tired of breathing air without actually living. I lost Sephryn because I refused to live up to my mother’s legacy. And then there’s this guy.” He clapped Jerel on the shoulder. “According to him, a god has said that I am like my mother. I wouldn’t listen to Sephryn, but should I ignore a god?”

  “And the plan?” Amicus asked.

  “My father rules a rotting throne that sits atop a precarious perch. Demetrius says that many in the legion are less than loyal to the emperor. The Second Legion is based near here, and I suspect they may be sympathetic to this insurrection. Why else would Tolly have to request other legionnaires? If we can harness this popular revolt and gain support of the Second, we could march west and—”

  “The First Legion remains in Rhenydd,” Riley pointed out. “I suspect that’s why the emperor keeps them close. They might have a thing or two to say about your plans.”

  Nolyn smiled. “I served with the First through the Grenmorian and Goblin Wars. While no one still serving knows me, they know of me. If any legion is likely to join our cause, it’s them.”

  “With the First and Second Legions, we could take Percepliquis in an afternoon,” Riley said softly. “All they have is the city guard and the palace troops.”

  “And the Instarya,” Nolyn said, pointing a finger at the Second Spear. “Don’t forget them. They’re tougher than you can imagine.”

  “Odds of getting the Second to commit treason under the command of a stranger seems more than unlikely. This whole adventure will probably end before it starts,” Amicus said.

  “You don’t have to follow me,” Nolyn told him.

  “I think you misunderstand,” Amicus said. “We aren’t against the idea—at least I’m not. This is why we’ve stayed with you, why I was willing to risk my life and the rest of the squadron. I was hoping this is where you’d lead. I’m just curious to see how you’re going to do it.”

  Nolyn smiled at him. “Me, too.”

  Nolyn led the way down the ramp that bounced with the harmonic rhythm of their combined strides. Crossing the gangway over the gulf to the dock, they heard the continued clamor and angry shouts of the growing crowd that, if anything, had only gotten louder.

  The rest of the city guard, as ordered, had remained at the foot of the ramp in a semicircle. They held back the swell of angry people with shields and the show of naked blades.

  Reaching the bottom, the Sik-Aux found themselves surrounded, with no clear way to go. The crowd was full of civilians in street clothes who were armed with an eclectic array of weapons, everything from spears and swords to sticks and rocks. One especially large man, who was front and center, held a barbarian long sword in two hands while he shouted at them, “Go back to the emperor and tell him Vernes will not tolerate Instarya rule!”

  Tolly addressed Nolyn, “With your help, we’ll disperse this lot, then find and execute the leaders. That will end it, always does.”

  “I think this time that will be harder to do,” Nolyn said.

  “Why’s that, sir?”

  “Because the emperor didn’t send us. We aren’t your reinforcements.” Nolyn looked around. “Find me something to stand on,” he told the others.

  “Over there,” Amicus said, pointing at a stack of crates that were being brought off the ship by a crew eager to be done with their work.

  Nolyn climbed on top of one. Not satisfied, he stepped onto a stack of two. From that perch, he could see the whole of the crowd before and below. They spotted him, too.

  “Do you think we have come to punish you?”

  The mob began to quiet at the sound of his shout.

  He waited a moment, then added, “Do you fear retribution for your insurrection?” He made a grand show of shaking his head. “The emperor didn’t send me. I am not Advaryn Wyn. I am not here to be your new governor.”

  The crowd became even quieter.

  Nolyn smiled. “To be honest, if my father knew I was here, he’d kill me.”

  The populace went silent, then one hand punched out above the heads of the others and pointed a finger at him. “That’s Nolyn Nyphronian! That’s the prince!”

  A communal gasp sounded like someone had tossed a wet log on a hot fire.

  “How do you know?” someone else asked.

  “Came through here just recently on his way to Calynia. I was working the docks when he boarded a ship headed to Urlineus. A bunch of us saw him. The prince shook my friend’s hand, he did. That’s definitely him.”

  Prefect Tolly took a step back, his eyes huge as he studied Nolyn anew.

  “I’m not here to beat you into submission,” Nolyn shouted to the crowd.

  “Why did you come?” someone asked. He was a large fellow in the front row. The tone was distrustful, violent.

  “As I said, the emperor didn’t send me, but he did drive me here. He drove me by his arrogance, his injustice and bigotry, and his disdain for humanity.”

  The murmurs that had sprung forth after hearing his identity quieted. So did the sound of movement as more people stopped to listen.

  “My father has protected his brethren at the expense of the people. For too long, the empyre of mankind has been dominated by a handful of Instarya Fhrey. Our cities and towns were built by humans. Our commerce, our roads, our ships, all built by men. Our legions charged with protecting all of it”—he gestured at Amicus and Jerel—“consist entirely of humans, but we are not governed by men. We receive our marching orders from the likes of Nyphron and his brotherhood of elves.” At the sound of the word, the crowd gasped anew.

  Nolyn continued, “Nowhere in the empyre is a man equal to a Fhrey. The laws work only for them. Kill a Fhrey, and you and your family will be executed. But if a Fhrey kills a man? Is the murderer hanged? Is he even imprisoned?”

  Several in the crowd were shouting “No!”

  “Of course not,” Nolyn said. “One doesn’t punish a person for killing an animal. And trust me, that’s what the emperor considers humans to be.”

  “But you’re his son!” someone shouted. “You’re . . .” The next word was swallowed.

  “I am the bridge,” Nolyn declared. “My mother human, my father Fhrey—I have a foot in both worlds, which grants me judicial neutrality. I alone can be a fair judge, and I tell you now—my father is an ass. He has treated you poorly, subjected you to a two-tiered system.

  “For centuries, I have served in the legion.” He slapped the chest of his uniform. “I have fought in every war, served side by side with good men, and I have seen firsthand the rewards they receive: humiliation and disregard. Our capital was named after my mother, and I can tell you, she never intended it to be this way. She believed in a world where everyone, Fhrey and human, lived under fair and consistent laws. But Persephone died eight centuries ago, and my father still lives. The world has changed, but the emperor has not. I believe it’s time to fix that problem, and that, is why I’m here.”

  “You speak treason,” Tolly accused.

  Nolyn considered that a moment, then nodded. “Alas, not very well. It’s a second language, but I’m learning. We all must do likewise if we want to make this world a better place for our children.”

  Tolly stepped backward. “You—you would challenge the might of the greatest power the world has ever known?”

  Nolyn shrugged. “Why not? My father did, and now he gets to have blueberry tarts every morning.” Nolyn had no idea what his father ate for breakfast, but figured no one else did, either. In a loud, calm voice, he addressed the crowd. “A house with a poorly laid foundation will fall—must fall. In its place, a new structure will rise, one that provides shelter to all, not just a few.”

  “Are you here to join us?” It was the big fellow in the front row again. He’d lowered the long sword but had his lower lip pushed out and a sneer pulling up one end. Nolyn guessed he was either their leader, or at least he wanted to be seen that way.

>   Nolyn shook his head. “No, not join. But I will lead you.” He pointed to the Stryker. “You saw this imperial warship as a symbol of tyranny, and you came here as defiant protesters, angry and disorganized. But this ship heralds your passage to a better life. I’m about to make you into true revolutionaries capable of challenging the palace and changing the world.”

  “The city rabble is one thing, sir,” Amicus said. “The Second Legion will be quite another.”

  They had moved up the street into the Sea Serpent, a public house popular among sailors and legionnaires. The no-frills establishment was little more than a big open room punctuated by thick posts that held up the roof and a simple counter of shipping crates overlaid by decking planks. There were no chairs or tables, nothing that could be busted in a fight.

  The remnants of the Seventh Sik-Aux all held wooden cups of beer drawn from the big barrel behind the counter. They sipped slowly. Demetrius declined a drink but stood with them, silent and watchful.

  Nolyn nodded. “There are worse places, don’t you think?”

  “You’re crazy. You know that, right?” Amicus said.

  “Maybe.” Nolyn smiled bitterly. “I’m not sure if I get that from my father or my mother, but I’m certain it runs in the family.”

  “Do we have a plan?” Riley asked.

  Nolyn shook his head. “Tolly will report to the Second’s commander that renegade legionnaires are causing trouble near the docks, and that will bring a response of some kind. But beyond that, no. You’d be surprised to discover the officer’s handbook doesn’t cover starting a rebellion.”

  “If it did,” Myth said, “I don’t think it would be smart to follow it.”

  “The good news is,” Nolyn said, swirling his cup, “I don’t think there’s anything in the handbook detailing how to stop the emperor’s son from starting a rebellion, either.”

  “This handbook sounds downright useless,” Smirch said. He leaned one shoulder against the wooden pillar they gathered around, which sported a series of old scars from what had to be sword blades.

  “Smirch,” Riley said, “you do realize there is no such thing as an officer’s handbook, right?”

  Smirch scowled. “How would I know? I’m not an officer, and I can’t read.” He grinned as if both were points of pride, then took a sip of beer. “Hope the Second Legion comes soon. This is good stuff. I’d like to get to some serious drinking. Maybe even look around town for a woman. Bet they have some pretty ones here.”

  “After so many years spent in the Erbon,” Myth said, “you’ll probably be disappointed not to find a tail to hang on to.”

  That made each of them laugh except Smirch, who made a halfhearted frown as if he didn’t quite understand the joke.

  The door to the Sea Serpent opened, and a group of armored men poured into the big room: red tunics, heavy armor—regular legion. They fanned out in proper military formation, lining up to either side of the entrance. A good thirty men were inside when a prymus of the Second Legion and a First Spear finally entered.

  The prymus was tall and had that educated superiority about him that suggested he was more appointee than rank-climber. The First Spear was a brute whose uniform looked too small. The most significant thing was that he was freshly shaved. All the men were.

  “Are you the group who claims to be the imperial son and his entourage?” the prymus asked.

  Nolyn’s party had been the only ones in the Sea Serpent for the past hour. Even the owner had fled. Still, Nolyn made a show of looking around. Then he pointed at himself and shook his head. “I’m afraid there has been a mistake. We never claimed anything of the sort.”

  The prymus nodded and smiled at his First Spear. “See?”

  “What I said is that I was here to start a revolution against my father, and I think someone from the crowd recognized I was Nolyn Nyphronian.”

  The prymus’s brows shot up.

  The First Spear laughed.

  “Arrest him!” the prymus ordered.

  Before any of the soldiers moved, Amicus, Riley, Jerel, and Myth dropped their cups and drew their weapons.

  “Don’t be foolish,” the prymus said. “You don’t have a chance.”

  “What do you think?” Amicus asked the Second Legion’s First Spear. “Do you think we have a chance?”

  The man hesitated.

  “I gave you an order, Sikes,” the prymus demanded.

  “They’re wearing the Seventh Sikaria uniforms, sir,” the First Spear explained. “Auxiliary uniforms, sir.”

  The prymus narrowed his eyes at Nolyn. “Steal those, did you?”

  “Do they look like they don’t fit?”

  The prymus wasn’t at all pleased with his answer. “Why would the Seventh Sik-Aux turn traitor?”

  “Didn’t, really,” Nolyn said. “My father—you know him as the emperor—tried to have me killed, along with these fine gentlemen. As you can see, he failed. It isn’t that we have become traitors, the emperor has—and long before he ordered the sacrifice of the Seventh Sikaria Auxiliary just to make the murder of his only son appear like a casualty of war.”

  The prymus focused then on Amicus, tilting his head slightly, his mouth hanging open a crack. “I’ve . . . I’ve seen you. In Percepliquis. You’re Amicus Killian.”

  The name had a profound effect on everyone hearing it. The ranks of men shifted; some whispered, others nudged. The First Spear, who ought to have barked at them, was himself awestruck at the man before him. “Three swords,” he muttered. “There’s an imperial bounty on your head.”

  “Care to claim it?” Amicus asked.

  “Prince Nolyn offered to sacrifice himself so that we could escape an ambush set up by his father,” Riley said.

  Everett spoke up. His youthful sincerity coated every word with emotion. “He saved my life by giving me his horse.”

  “He wants to make the world a better place for humans. And being a man myself, I find it doesn’t make a lot of sense to oppose such an idea. Unless of course”—Amicus took a step toward the prymus—“you’re not a man.”

  Amicus smiled at the officer, who looked ill.

  “Let me make this easier,” Nolyn said. He clapped his hands, as much to draw their attention as to declare he alone hadn’t drawn a blade. “Not only am I the imperial prince, but I hold the rank of prymus and have much more seniority than you. So, unless you have orders from my father to the contrary, and until such time as you do, you’re duty-bound to follow my commands.”

  The prymus went from looking sick to appearing lost. He glanced back at his men, perhaps gauging their attitude.

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Nolyn said. “Obey me, and you’ll stand trial for treason. Disobey and you’re guilty of disloyalty. Now, it’s true that disloyalty isn’t quite as terrible as treason, but since both carry the death penalty”—Nolyn pretended to weigh invisible objects in his hands—“it’s really the same thing.”

  Nolyn crossed the distance between the two of them and casually laid a sympathetic hand on the officer’s shoulder. “I think what you have to do is consider what it is you’re willing to die for. Is it defending an emperor you’ve likely never seen and who tells you to risk your life fighting for an empyre that refuses to extend you the same privileges that are lavished on Nyphron’s Instarya cronies? Or would you rather help the man in front of you who promises to treat you fairly because he, too, is human?”

  A long pause followed.

  “There’s a really big barrel of excellent beer over there,” Nolyn said. “Shall we have a drink and talk some more, or do you want to start killing one another?”

  When the prymus still didn’t respond, Nolyn took advantage of the lack of resistance to get the ball rolling in his direction. “Everett, pour the Second Legion’s prymus and First Spear a drink, and fetch me one as well.”

  The kid came back with three cups and handed them out.

  “To a brighter future,” Nolyn said and raised his cup.

&nbs
p; The prymus looked at Amicus, then Nolyn. “You’re going to have to convince the First Prymus and my legate. You don’t outrank them.”

  “Legate Farnell hates the Instarya,” the First Spear said. “And he is a huge fan of the Prophet.” He nodded his head at Amicus.

  “I didn’t say it would be difficult.” The prymus looked at Nolyn. “But do you really think you can pull this off?”

  “No.” Nolyn shook his head, then lifted his cup again. “But I think we can.” He drank.

  The prymus did as well.

  Nolyn and Amicus met Legate Farnell in his tent on the heights north of the city. The legate was a career soldier. Nolyn could tell that from his uniform. He wore it in the privacy of his own tent. Not the helmet—the man wasn’t crazy—but he was more comfortable in the skirt and plates than in a pallium or tunic. His manner was another indicator. He stood straight, looked them in the eye, and never smiled. If he hadn’t spent years leading men in battle, he should have.