“It’s also imperative that we get word to Alric to start the invasion from the north. Even if we take the city, Breckton can wait us out unless Melengar applies pressure. I would suggest asking the Diamond to send the message, but given how reliable they were last time and how utterly important this is—Royce, I need to ask you to carry the message for me. If anyone can get through and bring back help, it’s you.”
Royce pursed his lips, thinking, and then nodded. “I’ll talk to Polish just the same and see if I can get him to part with one or two of his men to accompany me. You should write three messages to Alric. Each of us will carry one and split up if there’s trouble. Three people will increase the odds that at least one will make it. And don’t neglect to write an additional letter explaining how this trip south was all your idea. I don’t want to bear the brunt of his anger when he finds out where you went. Oh, and, of course, an explanation of the fees to be paid,” he said with a wink.
Arista sighed. “He’ll want to kill me.”
“Not if you succeed in taking the city,” Hadrian said encouragingly.
“Speaking of which, after you complete the battle plan for the garrison, you’ll need to see about reaching Gaunt’s army and taking command of it. I’m not exactly sure how you’re going to do that, but I’ll write you a decree and declare you general-ambassador in proxy, granting you the power to speak on my behalf. I’ll give you the rank of auxiliary marshal and the title of lord. That might just impress them and at least give you the legal right to negotiate and the credentials to command.”
“I doubt royal titles will impress Nationalists much,” Hadrian said.
“Maybe not, but the threat of the Northern Imperial Army should give you a good deal of leverage. Desperate men might be willing to cling to an impressive title in the absence of anything else.”
Hadrian chuckled again.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking that for an ambassador, you’re a very capable general.”
“No you weren’t,” she told him bluntly. “You’re thinking that I’m capable for a woman.”
“That too.”
Arista smiled. “Well, it’s lucky that I am, because so far I’m pretty lousy at being a woman. I honestly can’t stand needlepoint.”
“I suppose I should set out tonight for Melengar,” Royce said. “Unless there’s something else you need before I go?”
Arista shook her head.
“How about you?” he asked Hadrian. “Assuming you survive this stunt, what are you going to do now that you know the heir is dead?”
“Hang on, are you sure the heir is dead?” Arista broke in.
“You were there. You heard what Bartholomew said,” Hadrian replied. “I don’t think he was lying.”
“I’m not saying that he was … It’s just that … well, Esrahaddon seemed pretty convinced the heir was still alive when he left Avempartha. And then there’s the church. They’re after Esra, expecting him to lead them to the real heir. They so much as told me that when I was at Ervanon last year. So why is everyone looking if he’s dead?”
“There’s no telling what Esrahaddon is up to. As for the church, they pretended to look for the heir just as they’re pretending they found her,” Royce said.
“Perhaps, but there’s still the image that we saw in the tower. He seemed like a living, breathing person to me.”
Royce nodded. “Good point.”
Hadrian shook his head. “There couldn’t have been another child. My father would have known and searched for him … or her. No, Danbury knew the line ended or he wouldn’t have stayed in Hintindar.”
He glanced at Royce, then lowered his eyes. “In any case, if I survive, I won’t be returning to Riyria.”
Royce nodded. “You’ll probably get killed, anyway. But … I suppose you’re okay with that—as happy as a dog with a bone.”
“How’s that?”
“Nothing.”
There was a pause, then Hadrian said, “It’s not completely hopeless. It’s just that damn cavalry. They’ll cut down the Nationalists in a heartbeat. If only it would rain again.”
“Rain?” Arista asked.
“Charging horses carrying heavy armored knights need solid ground. After the last few days, the ground has already dried. If I could engage them over tilled rain-drenched farmland, the horses will mire themselves and Dermont would lose his best advantage. But the weather doesn’t look like it’s gonna cooperate.”
“So you would prefer it to rain nonstop between now and the battle?” Arista asked.
“That would be one sweet miracle, but I don’t expect we’ll have that kind of luck.”
“Perhaps luck isn’t what we need.” Arista smiled at him.
The Dunlap household was dark except for the single candle Arista carried up the steps to the second floor. She had said her goodbyes to Royce and Hadrian. Mrs. Dunlap had gone to bed hours earlier and the house was quiet. This was the first time in ages she found herself alone.
How can this plan possibly work? Am I crazy?
She knew what her old handmaid, Bernice, would say. Then the old woman would offer her a gingerbread cookie as a consolation prize.