“Yes,” Lovett said, tapping her lips with a finger. “Could you not take the evidence to them?”
“And throw this country into civil war?” Harold asked, his words spitting like acid. “Many of the generals are on the Triumvirate’s side, and it’s the same with the nobles. Let me paint you a picture.”
He stood, and leaned his knuckles against the table.
“I would convene a meeting of the generals and nobility to show them the letter and the journal. Some would believe it and call for the arrest of perpetrators; others, like my father and his friends, would say you had fabricated it and call for yours. Lines would be drawn, sides would be taken. And in the middle of all this, the dwarven recruits arrive. A rebellion in the midst of a civil war. Can you imagine the chaos?”
“That’s not all,” Sylva said, her voice low and worried. “You would not just have the dwarves to contend with. If an arrest warrant is issued against me, a chieftain’s daughter, the elven council would go to war with all of Hominum over it too. Our army is mustering as we speak, to help in your war. Only now it would be used against you.”
Harold turned to her, shock stamped across his features.
“I had not considered that,” he said bitterly, his face draining of color. “The elven army is only just mobilizing, but they will be marching into Hominum when they are ready.”
“And all the soldiers on the northern borders have left,” Arcturus whispered, horrified.
“As soon as they discover you four are alive, there will be a warrant for your arrest,” Harold said. “Maybe I can convince them to leave Sylva out of it, but by then it might be too late.…”
He sighed and knuckled his brow.
“So, war with the elves if I don’t get you to safety … and a war with the dwarves regardless.”
“Aye, after seeing Rufus die, all of Hominum believes that Cress was an assassin,” Arcturus said. “And now they are even more convinced that the Anvil attacks were orchestrated by the dwarves. It will reach a boiling point, soon enough.”
“When the dwarven recruits arrive, my father will send the Pinkertons in to take over the Dwarven Quarter,” Harold said. “He has told me as much and will not change his mind, no matter what I say. The fighting will start that very night.”
Lovett finished his thought.
“Then, as we fall upon one another, the front lines left unguarded, Khan will strike and wipe us all out.”
The room went silent at her words, the horror of it weighing heavy in the air.
“So what are we supposed to do?” Fletcher finally asked. He was angry now. Angry at how the greed and hatred of a few power-hungry humans would lead to the slaughter of thousands of innocents. Angry that he and his friends were somehow at the center of it all once again. His pulse was roaring in his ears.
“We get you to the elves in the Great Forest,” Harold said. “You’ll be safest there, if—”
“No,” Othello interrupted, holding up his hand. “I won’t run. If there’s to be a war I’ll be here, protecting my family, not hiding like some common criminal.”
“Aye, I’ll stay too,” Cress said, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Don’t you understand, you’ll only make things worse,” the king growled. “Even if you aren’t captured, the Pinkertons will start searching for you, breaking down dwarven doors, tearing apart their homes. The dwarven rebellion would start tomorrow. If it’s known that the elves gave you asylum, that you have escaped … that won’t happen. It will buy me more time.”
Othello leaned back and closed his eyes. It looked for all the world as if he was taking a nap, were it not for the tight, whitened knuckles of his fists.
“If war breaks out, then the damage is done,” Harold said, his voice grim and terrible. “You can return then. In the meantime, you will go to the elves, while I try to stave off this disaster. In all honesty, your arrival has made things worse. Just do as you’re told. I have more pressing concerns than your safety at this moment.”
“What concerns could that possibly be?” Cress snapped, her lip curling with anger. “If the Pinkertons arrest us, you’ll have another public trial on your hands, followed by a swift execution. Remember how close you came to war last time that happened, when Othello was on trial for treason? That’s right: I, and every dwarf in the ghetto, knew what might happen if Othello had been executed.”
Harold turned to Cress with an icy glare.
“In light of Cress’s crimes and the Anvil attacks, my father will make an announcement to all of Hominum when the dwarven recruits arrive, rescinding the rights I have managed to give the dwarves over the last decade. The child quota laws will come back, the dwarven soldiers will be stripped of their uniforms. Worse still, he will enact crippling taxes on dwarven businesses, and decree curfews so that dwarves cannot walk the streets after nightfall.”
“Why?” Fletcher uttered, the word leaving his mouth unbidden.
“Because he wants the dwarven recruits angry when they get here,” Harold growled. “Imagine a few hundred armed dwarves being told they are no longer citizens or soldiers, after a year of training and misery on the elven borders. Then they are ordered to go home before nightfall under threat of arrest, and when they get there, the Pinkertons move in, patrolling their streets and terrifying their families.”
“They would riot,” Othello said quietly. “And Alfric would call it a rebellion.”
“That’s right,” Harold said. He turned back to Cress. “Do you see? I need to prevent that from happening. It will buy me a few more days to maneuver.”
Fletcher could not believe his ears: that Alfric could be so obvious, so callous. He needed to be stopped.
“So what’s your plan?” Fletcher asked.
“Captain, if you would.” Harold leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes with one hand and gesturing to Lovett with the other, as if too exhausted to explain.
“The scrying stones,” she said, leaning across the table. “The Triumvirate gathered all of them back after your mission, connected them to a single wild Mite and then redistributed them around Hominum. Alfric plans on making his announcement through the crystals. If Harold can kill or capture the Mite, it will delay the announcement long enough for the dwarven recruits to arrive. Of course, they might rebel when they arrive anyway, but it’s a start.”
“That’s it?” Othello asked, cupping his chin in his hands.
“That’s the long and short of it,” Lovett said. “And there’s something else. Alfric will be able to transmit his voice through the crystals as well.”
This was news to Fletcher. “I thought that was impossible,” he said, his brows furrowed with confusion.