greatest prize goes to he who dares the most.”
“Or the bold make their own fortunes,” said Andromache. “But I agree. We must strike swiftly. Did you capture Lord Corbould?”
Rezir scowled, and Kylon sensed a flash of anger from him. “I do not know. The battle of the Market was…chaotic. He might well lie among the slain. Or he might have escaped. I have promised a thousand golden coins to the man who brings me his head, but he has yet to be found.”
“No matter,” said Andromache. “We must crush any point around which resistance could organize. Lord Corbould is one such point, if he still lives. The second point is the city’s chapter of the Imperial Magisterium. If the magi unleash their arcane sciences upon us, we will be undone."
"What do you propose?" said Rezir.
The scarred man kept staring at Andromache. Kylon found his attention inappropriate, but neither Andromache nor Rezir moved to rebuke him.
"We must seize the city's gates as soon as possible," said Andromache. "Two of Marsis’s three Legions are north of the city, lured out by our ruses. Almost certainly those Legions have begun marching back to the city. When those Legions return, they must see the walls lined with Istarish infantry and Kyracian ashtairoi."
"A sound plan," said Rezir. "I shall strike hard and fast, before Lord Corbould or any surviving leaders can rally resistance. Once I seize the Plaza of the Tower, we shall have a solid base to assault the northern gate."
"And I," said Andromache, "shall deal with the magi."
Rezir frowned. "By yourself, honored Archon? My spies reported that the Magisterium chapterhouse housed at least a dozen master magi, if not more."
For the first time, a hint of a smile appeared on Andromache's stern face. "You saw what befell the Citadel's siege engines, did you not? And you felt the wind that blew my fleet into the harbor?"
Again Kylon sensed that flicker of fear from Rezir. And as well he should fear. Andromache had performed mighty feats of sorcery, exertions that should have left her exhausted for weeks. Yet she did not seem tired, or even discomforted.
"Yes," said Rezir. “If you say you can deal with the magi, then I have no doubts about their fate."
"Good," said Andromache. "One other matter. These captives, Rezir. So many, so soon?"
Rezir shrugged. "My men are entitled to their spoils."
"You speak truly," said Andromache. "And so many men devoted to guarding your spoils drains strength away from our main force."
"I have not lost that much strength," said Rezir. He sneered at the rows of captives. "The people of the Empire are sheep. Their peasants are nothing more than the descendants of escaped slaves. I need only detail a few of my men to keep order, the older and the wounded. They can keep these cattle under control easily enough."
"As you say," said Andromache. "My men require a portion of the spoils, in recompense for their valor."
A flash of rage went through Rezir's sense, but his face remained calm. "That seems only fair. How much?"
"Fifteen percent," said Andromache. "I shall send an emissary to select the appropriate slaves."
Rezir looked puzzled for a moment, and then bowed. "Fifteen percent is...generous, honored Archon. Very well. I agree."
"Good," said Andromache. "We have a great deal of work to do. I suggest we begin at once."
"As you say," said Rezir.
Again he bowed, and began shouting orders to his men. His bodyguard of Immortals followed, leaving Kylon alone with Andromache, her bodyguards, and Kleistheon.
And the strange man with the scarred face.
Kleistheon scowled at him. "Be off, churl, and follow your master. This is not your concern."
The scarred man lifted his head. Kylon saw that his left eye was green, while the right was an odd shade of yellow-orange, almost like molten sulfur.
"My mistress is not here, good sir," he
“Or the bold make their own fortunes,” said Andromache. “But I agree. We must strike swiftly. Did you capture Lord Corbould?”
Rezir scowled, and Kylon sensed a flash of anger from him. “I do not know. The battle of the Market was…chaotic. He might well lie among the slain. Or he might have escaped. I have promised a thousand golden coins to the man who brings me his head, but he has yet to be found.”
“No matter,” said Andromache. “We must crush any point around which resistance could organize. Lord Corbould is one such point, if he still lives. The second point is the city’s chapter of the Imperial Magisterium. If the magi unleash their arcane sciences upon us, we will be undone."
"What do you propose?" said Rezir.
The scarred man kept staring at Andromache. Kylon found his attention inappropriate, but neither Andromache nor Rezir moved to rebuke him.
"We must seize the city's gates as soon as possible," said Andromache. "Two of Marsis’s three Legions are north of the city, lured out by our ruses. Almost certainly those Legions have begun marching back to the city. When those Legions return, they must see the walls lined with Istarish infantry and Kyracian ashtairoi."
"A sound plan," said Rezir. "I shall strike hard and fast, before Lord Corbould or any surviving leaders can rally resistance. Once I seize the Plaza of the Tower, we shall have a solid base to assault the northern gate."
"And I," said Andromache, "shall deal with the magi."
Rezir frowned. "By yourself, honored Archon? My spies reported that the Magisterium chapterhouse housed at least a dozen master magi, if not more."
For the first time, a hint of a smile appeared on Andromache's stern face. "You saw what befell the Citadel's siege engines, did you not? And you felt the wind that blew my fleet into the harbor?"
Again Kylon sensed that flicker of fear from Rezir. And as well he should fear. Andromache had performed mighty feats of sorcery, exertions that should have left her exhausted for weeks. Yet she did not seem tired, or even discomforted.
"Yes," said Rezir. “If you say you can deal with the magi, then I have no doubts about their fate."
"Good," said Andromache. "One other matter. These captives, Rezir. So many, so soon?"
Rezir shrugged. "My men are entitled to their spoils."
"You speak truly," said Andromache. "And so many men devoted to guarding your spoils drains strength away from our main force."
"I have not lost that much strength," said Rezir. He sneered at the rows of captives. "The people of the Empire are sheep. Their peasants are nothing more than the descendants of escaped slaves. I need only detail a few of my men to keep order, the older and the wounded. They can keep these cattle under control easily enough."
"As you say," said Andromache. "My men require a portion of the spoils, in recompense for their valor."
A flash of rage went through Rezir's sense, but his face remained calm. "That seems only fair. How much?"
"Fifteen percent," said Andromache. "I shall send an emissary to select the appropriate slaves."
Rezir looked puzzled for a moment, and then bowed. "Fifteen percent is...generous, honored Archon. Very well. I agree."
"Good," said Andromache. "We have a great deal of work to do. I suggest we begin at once."
"As you say," said Rezir.
Again he bowed, and began shouting orders to his men. His bodyguard of Immortals followed, leaving Kylon alone with Andromache, her bodyguards, and Kleistheon.
And the strange man with the scarred face.
Kleistheon scowled at him. "Be off, churl, and follow your master. This is not your concern."
The scarred man lifted his head. Kylon saw that his left eye was green, while the right was an odd shade of yellow-orange, almost like molten sulfur.
"My mistress is not here, good sir," he
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