Rise Of Empire (36 page)

The crowd, already quiet, grew deadly still as they came to the woman from Kilnar, who began screaming as they approached. The sheriff and his deputies took turns whipping her, as the day’s heat made such work exhausting. The fatigue in their arms was evident by the wild swings that struck the woman high on her shoulders as well as low on her back, and even occasionally as low as her thighs. After the first thirty lashes, the woman stopped screaming and only whimpered softly. The whipping continued, and by the time the scribe counted sixty, the woman merely hung limp. A physician approached the post, lifted her head by her hair, and pronounced her dead. The scribe made a note of this. They did not remove her body.

The sheriff finally moved to Emery. The young man was not daunted after seeing the punishment carried out on the others, and made the bravest showing of all. He stood defiant as the soldier with the whip approached him.

“Killing me will not change the truth that Viceroy Androus is the real traitor and guilty of killing King Urith and the royal family!” he managed to shout before the first strokes of the whip silenced him. He did not cry out but gritted his teeth and only dully grunted as the knots turned his back into a mass of blood and pulpy flesh. By the last stroke, he also hung limp and silent, but everyone could see him breathing. The physician indicated such to the scribe, who dutifully jotted it down.

“Those people didn’t do anything,” Arista said as the crowd began to disperse. “They’re innocent.”

“You, of all people, know that isn’t the point,” Royce replied.

Arista whirled. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then shut it.

“Alric had twelve people publicly flogged for inciting riots when the church was kicked out of Melengar,” he reminded her. “How many of them were actually guilty of anything?”

“I’m sure that was necessary to keep the peace.”

“The viceroy will tell you the same.”

“This is different. Mothers weren’t whipped before their children, and women weren’t beaten to death before a crowd.”

“True,” Royce said. “It was only fathers, husbands, and sons who were whipped bloody and left scarred for life. I stand corrected. Melengar’s compassion is astounding.”

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.”

B
y 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.

“Even if you could raise a rabble, scores of people will die and the rest will break and run,” Royce added.

“They won’t run,” Arista said. “There’s no place for them to go. We’re trapped in a walled city. There can be no retreat. Everyone will have to fight to the death. After this afternoon’s
demonstration of the empire’s cruelty, I don’t think anyone will chance surrender.”

Hadrian nodded. “But how do you expect to incite the city to fight for you? They don’t even know you. You’re not like Emery, with lifelong friends who will lay their lives on the line on your behalf. I doubt not even Polish here has a reputation that will elicit that kind of devotion—no offense.”

Polish smiled at him. “You are quite right. The people rarely see me, and when they do, I’m thought of as a despicable brigand—imagine that.”

“That’s why we need Emery,” Arista said.

“The kid dying in the square?”

“You saw the way the people listened,” she said earnestly. “They believe in him.”

“Right up until they were flogged at his side,” Royce put in.

Arista stood straighter and spoke in a louder voice. “And even when they were, did you see the look in the faces of those people? In The Laughing Gnome, they already saw him as something of a hero—standing up for them against the Imperialists. When they flogged him, when he faced death and yet stood by his convictions, it solidified their feelings for him and his ideals. The Imperialists left Emery to die today. When they did, they made him a martyr. Just imagine how the people will feel if he survives! If he slipped out of the Imperialists’ grasp just as everyone felt certain he was dead, it could be the spark that can ignite their hopes.”

“He’s probably already dead,” Quartz said indifferently as she cleaned her nails with a dagger.

Arista ignored her. “We’ll steal Emery from the post, spread the news that he’s alive and that he asks everyone to stand up with him and fight—to fight for the freedom he promised them.”

Royce scoffed but Hadrian considered the idea. He wanted
to believe. He wanted to be swept along with her passion, but his practical side, which had waged dozens of battles, told him there was little chance for success. “It won’t work,” he finally stated. “Even if you managed to take the city, the imperial army will just take it back. A few hundred civilians could overwhelm the city garrison, but they aren’t going to stop an army.”

“That’s why we have to coordinate our attack with the Nationalists’. Remember Emery’s plan? We’ll shut the gates and lock them out. Then the Nationalists can crush them.”

“And if you don’t manage to close the gates in time? If the battle against the garrison doesn’t go perfectly to plan?” Royce asked.

“It still won’t matter,” Arista said. “If the Nationalists attack the imperial army at the same time that we launch our rebellion, they won’t be able to bother with us.”

“Except the Nats won’t attack without Gaunt,” Polish said. “That’s the reason they’re still out there. Well, that and the three hundred heavy cavalry Lord Dermont commands along with the rest of his army. The Nats haven’t ever faced an organized force. Without Gaunt, they have no one to lead them. They aren’t disciplined troops. Just townsfolk and farmers Gaunt picked up along the way here. They’ll run the moment they see armored knights.”

“Who’s in charge of Gaunt’s army?” Hadrian asked. He had to admit Arista’s plans were at least thought out.

“Some fat chap who goes by the name of Parker. Rumor has it he was a bookkeeper for a textile business. He used to be the Nats’ quartermaster before Gaunt promoted him,” Quartz said. “Not the brightest coin in the purse, if you understand me. Without Gaunt planning and leading the attack, the Nats don’t stand a chance.”

“You could do it,” Arista said, looking squarely at Hadrian. “You’ve commanded men in battle before. You got a medal.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t as impressive as it sounds. They were only small regiments. Grendel’s army was, well, in a word, pathetic. They refused to even wear helms, because they didn’t like the way their voices echoed in their heads.”

“But you led them in battle?”

“Yes, but—”

“And did you win or lose?”

“We won but—”

“Against a larger or smaller force?”

Hadrian stood silent, a beaten look on his face.

Royce turned toward him. “Tell me you aren’t considering this nonsense.”

Am I? But three hundred heavy cavalry!

Desperation slipped into Arista’s voice. “Breckton’s Northern Imperial Army is marching here. If the Nationalists don’t attack now, the combined imperial forces will decimate them. That’s what Lord Dermont is waiting for—that’s his plan. If he sits and waits, then he will win. But if the Nationalists attack first, if he has no support, and nowhere to run … This may be our only chance. It’s now or all will be lost.

“If the Nationalists are destroyed, nothing will stop the empire. They’ll retake and punish all of Rhenydd for its disobedience, and that will include Hintindar.” She paused, letting him consider this. “Then they will take Melengar. After that, nothing will stop them from conquering Delgos, Trent, and Calis. The empire will rule the world once more, but not like it once did. Instead of an enlightened rule uniting the people, it will be one of cruelty dividing them, headed not by a noble, benevolent emperor, but by a handful of greedy, power-hungry men who pull strings while hiding behind the shield of an innocent girl.