Arista glared at him but could say nothing. As much as she hated it, as much as she hated him for pointing it out, she realized what Royce said was true.
“Don’t punish yourself over it,” Royce told her. “The powerful control the weak. The rich exploit the poor. It’s the way it’s always been and how it always will be. Just thank Maribor you were born both rich and powerful.”
“But it’s not right,” she said, shaking her head.
“What does right have to do with it? With anything? Is it right that the wind blows or that the seasons change? It’s just the way the world is. If Alric hadn’t flogged those people, maybe they would have succeeded in their revolt. Then you and Alric might have found yourselves beaten to death by a cheering crowd, because they would hold the power and you two would be weak.”
“Are you really that indifferent?” she asked.
“I like to think of it as practical, and living in Ratibor for any length of time has a tendency to make a person very practical.” He glanced sympathetically at Hadrian, who had been quiet since leaving the church. “Compassion doesn’t make house calls to the streets of Ratibor—now or forty years ago.”
“Royce …” Hadrian said, then sighed. “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll see you two back at the Nest in a little while.”
“Are you all right?” Arista asked.
“Yeah,” he said unconvincingly, and moved away with the crowd.
“I feel bad for him,” she said.
“Best thing that could have happened. Hadrian needs to understand how the world really works and get over his childish affection for ideals. You see Emery up there? He’s an idealist and that’s what eventually happens to idealists, particularly those that have the misfortune of being born in Ratibor.”
“But for a moment he might have changed the course of this city,” Arista said.
“No, he would only have changed who was in power and who wasn’t. The course would remain the same. Power rises to the top like cream and dominates the weak with cruelty disguised as—and often even believed to be—benevolence. When it comes to people, there is no other possibility. It’s a natural occurrence, like the weather, and you can’t control either one.”
Arista thought for a moment and glanced skyward. Then she said defiantly, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
CHAPTER 12
MAKING IT RAIN
By the time Hadrian returned to the Rat’s Nest, he could see Quartz had returned and there was trouble. Arista stood in the middle of the room with arms folded stubbornly, a determined look on her face. The rest watched her, happily entertained, while Royce paced with a look of exasperation.
“Thank Maribor you’re back!” Royce said. “She’s driving me insane.”
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going to take control of the city,” Arista announced.
Hadrian raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the meeting with Gaunt?”
“Not going to happen,” Quartz answered. “Gaunt’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Officially, he’s disappeared,” Royce explained. “Likely he’s dead or captured. I’m certain Merrick is behind this somehow. It feels like him. He stopped us from contacting Gaunt and used both sides as bait for the other. Brilliant, really. Degan went to meet with Arista just as Arista went to meet him, and both walked into a trap. Arista avoided hers but it would appear that Gaunt was not so fortunate. The Nationalists are blaming Her Highness and Melengar, convinced that she’s responsible. Even though the plan failed to catch the princess, there is no chance for an alliance. Definitely Merrick.”
“Which is exactly why we need to prove ourselves to the Nationalists,” Arista explained while Royce shook his head. She turned to face Hadrian. “If we take the city from the inside and hand it over to them, they’ll trust us and we’ll be able to get them to agree to an alliance. When you took this job, I reserved the right to change the objectives, and I’m doing so now.”
“And how, exactly, do we take the city?” Hadrian asked carefully, trying to keep his tone neutral. He was usually inclined to side with Royce, and at face value Arista’s idea did seem more than a little insane. On the other hand, he knew Arista was no fool and Royce often made choices based solely on self-interest. Beyond all that, he could not help admiring Arista, standing in a room full of thieves and opportunists, proclaiming such a noble idea.
“Just like Emery said at The Laughing Gnome,” Arista began. “We storm the armory. Take weapons and what armor we can find. Then attack the garrison. Once we defeat them, we seal the city gates.”
“The garrison in Ratibor is made up of what?” Hadrian asked. “Fifty? Sixty experienced soldiers?”
“At least that,” Royce muttered disdainfully.
“Going up against hastily armed tailors, bakers, and grocers? You’d need to have half the population of the city backing you,” he pointed out.