Hansen swallowed the beer in his cup with a surge of thirst and reaction.
“Milord,” he said, “then the way isn’t to fight each lordling who defies you. You’ve got to take Frekka, make it your capital, and use the trading wealth to build an army that—”
“Frekka?” said Golsingh. “Frekka? Don’t be silly. My ancestors have lived at Peace Rock for generations, and—”
“Sir, your—”
“—and besides,” Golsingh continued in his royal voice, “Frekka is already a part of the kingdom.”
“Then why is the shipment of armor you’re expecting—you need—for your expedition delayed?” Hansen retorted sharply. “And why are the merchants of Frekka paying subsidies under the table to whichever of your barons looks least trustworthy?”
“You don’t know that!” Golsingh snapped.
“Everybody knows that,” Hansen said with flat brutality. “We have the choice of pretending not to believe the report of every traveler who’s come from Thrasey or Frekka in the past month. But we don’t have the option of not knowing it.”
“Why would they do that?” the king said in a suddenly gentler voice.
He set down the cup he’d been playing with and kneaded his cheeks with the fingers of both hands. “I’ll give them safe roads for their commerce. That’s one of the main things that I want for the kingdom, for everyone.”
“You’ll give them a king they have to obey,” Hansen said simply. “The caravans from Frekka are safe enough on the roads now.”
“But they have to hire guards to—” Golsingh protested. He caught himself. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” said Hansen. “That’s what I’ve heard, too. That the Syndics of Frekka have more warriors in their hire now than you do.”
He started to drink, remembered that he’d finished the beer in his mug—and found it full again. Unn smiled coldly and bobbed the silver pitcher in her hand.
“The Frekka merchants want the same sort of kingdom as you do, Lord Golsingh,” Hansen said. “The only thing is, they want to be the rulers of it.”
“Did you come here from Frekka, then?” Unn asked unexpectedly.
Hansen looked at her. “No, milady,” he said. “I came from much farther away than that. And—”
He swigged beer in order to settle his thoughts before he finished the statement. “And I think it helps to come from a distance, sometimes, when you look at a problem.”
Unn leaned forward to fill her husband’s agate cup. There was nothing in her expression to suggest that she’d heard or spoken in the past moments.
“Lord Golsingh,” Hansen said earnestly. “Give me five men of my choosing for the battle against Thrasey. Tell them to do exactly what I say for the next two days of training, and the same in the battle. And I’ll win the battle for you.”
“Don’t be absurd!” Golsingh snapped with more anger than the request itself involved. “I’ll do nothing of the sort. A nothing like you, with no pedigree and no war honors anybody’s heard of!”
I asked him to do something that even he can’t order these stiff-necked warriors to do and be obeyed, Hansen realized.
“And anyway . . . ,” Golsingh added in a very different voice. “Even if I were to—do what you suggest. You’d never . . .”
The king looked down at his hands, then up so that he faced Krita but watched Hansen out of the corners of his eyes. “You’d never be able to do what you say. Would you?”
Hansen smiled his dragon smile at Golsingh. “One of these days, milord,” he said, “you and I are going to find a way for you to give me what I want . . . and then I’ll give you the kingdom you want.”
He turned to go back to his seat, then turned again. “That’s if we both live long enough, milord,” he added.
Golsingh’s face was expressionless. But Krita was smiling ferally . . . and so was Unn.
Chapter Seventeen
The cold of Ruby’s winter was shocking. The wind drove ice crystals like miniature scalpels through the close weave of the Inspector General’s dress uniform.
The company of infantry drawn up at attention wore coveralls the color of dirty snow. The faces of the troops were as impassive as the armored bows of the tanks among the stunted fir trees, aiming their guns at Fortin.