The Rebellion (42 page)

“I say we strike soon, before the new intake of soldierguards is fully trained,” Malik went on forcefully, and I realized he was on the verge of taking over the meeting and perhaps the rebellion. With his smooth, handsome face and eyes that glowed with confidence, he looked the picture of a leader of men. I knew then, as if by futuretell vision, that if Malik assumed the mantle of leadership now, Misfits would be doomed after the rebellion. He and his people would hunt us down and destroy us.

The rebels had begun to argue and discuss the merits and disadvantages of different seasons to mount a successful rebellion. I glanced at Brydda, but his face was blank and unhelpful. Well, he had warned me that I could not expect his aid—especially not when Malik had practically accused him of using us to seize leadership.

I noticed that alone of all those in the room, the Sadorian
woman was watching me from her shadowy corner, her yellow eyes glinting. This reminded me vividly of Maruman and, oddly, gave me the courage to do what I did next.

“The question of alliance has not yet been voted upon,” I said loudly and firmly.

Malik gave me an irritated look. “Children should be at play, not meddling in the affairs of their elders and betters.”

“Then let us speak plainly as children are wont to do,” I said, still loudly. “You, Malik, wish to set yourself up as the leader of the rebellion and of all these others sitting here, because you think you are better than them and because you desire the power that would accrue to such a position after the battles are over.”

Malik flushed, then whitened, to hear me name his ambitions so nakedly and shorn of all softening or justification. Even Brydda looked aghast. It seemed that in the world of men and battles, only the truth was too shocking to be mentioned aloud.

But Malik was caught, because, without looking like a fool or a liar, he could not deny what I had said, when every person in the room knew it must be true.

“Each person has their expertise,” he said at last through clenched teeth. “Mine is to lead.”

For a moment, the capricious balance of power was tilted in my favor. I looked into Gwynedd’s blue eyes. “What of Tardis? Does he also not possess the ability to lead? What of”—I stretched my memory—“what of Yavok, and indeed of any one of you in this room? Are you not all leaders of your groups because you possess exactly that same expertise to lead as Malik? And, in that case, why should he be set above you?”

“
One
must rule in wartime,” Malik snapped. “In the end, a single person must be put above the rest. A rebellion must
have a commander to whom all intelligence is sent. Once the battle begins, only one person can direct its course, can have the power to say go or stay, fight or retreat. A horse cannot have two heads or ten, and if it must have one, then give it the one who knows the trail best. I am a warrior. I know tactics, and I know the feel of battle.”

“Malik is right. Sooner or later, we must choose one to lead us in battle, and that is his strength,” Elii said.

It was well said, but I had a final card to play in this game of words, and Elii had brought me neatly to it.

“Why choose at all when, with my people by your side, each of you may lead your own forces and confer whenever you need? With farseekers to link you, there is no need for one warlord! Why not go on as you have begun—each ruling your own people and conferring through mine when there is need? And then, when the war is won, choose one among you whose gift is peacetime rule, if you decide it is necessary.”

“It makes sense,” said Elii. “If each of us conducts our own share of the war, then what need have we of a leader in the aftermath of the rebellion? Could we not continue to rule our own provinces?”

“Bodera sent Brydda here to convince us with his silver tongue to join together, because divided we were nothing more than thorns in the Council’s side. With great eloquence, he spoke of the need for us to be welded into a single unit with a single aim. Remember those words? And now he would have us splinter into tiny groups. Do you not wonder why? Could it be that divided we will be easier for him and his mutants to conquer?” Malik demanded.

Brydda stood up, his face showing anger for the first time. “I did not know Misfits like Elspeth existed when this began. But since they do, it seems to be wise to look at what they can
offer us. But the decision is not mine to make, whatever Malik implies. It is yours, and I am nothing more than Bodera’s and Dardelan’s man.”

“All I am offering is the means for you to retain independence,” I said.

“I, for one, know my master would prefer to retain control of our people,” said Gwynedd in a thin, sardonic voice. “It would surprise me if any rebel leader would say they wished someone to rule over them.”

“Without having to decide who is going to run things, we might better concentrate on winning our battle,” Dardelan put in.

“So speaks the wisdom of the ages,” Malik sneered.

“I speak for my father,” the young man said quietly.

“Again, I offer an alliance with my people,” I said. “We will allow ourselves to be dispersed among you—”

“No!” Malik snapped, banging his hand on the table. “Who is this girl to offer alliance to us? Is she the ruler of her people? I think not. Why does not her master come among us, or is he so grossly distorted that he cannot be seen?”

“Some of us have met him,” Cassell said mildly. “He is not a Misfit at all.”

“Well, what sort of man is he who chooses to rule freaks? And I ask you again, how do we know that these mutated brats can do what she claims? I want more than children who can whisper to one another across the land, in exchange for accepting this girl and her freakish kin as comrades. I want warriors who can fight.”

Jakoby rose, and so great was her natural presence, we all looked up at her. “You wish to see if she and hers can match your people in battle, Malik? Is that it? And if they could, what then? Would you accept them as allies and equals?”

“I would accept a cow if it could prove itself my equal,” he snapped.

The others laughed, and though I kept my face still and calm, I seethed inwardly.

“Then there is a way to solve this matter,” Jakoby spoke above the laughter. “In Sador, we have the Battlegames. It is a series of ritual contests that run between dawn and dusk on a single day. I offer you this as a way of solving this deadlock. By it, you will learn if this girl and her people can turn their talents to winning war.” She turned her glowing golden eyes on me. “And your people will have the chance to prove yourselves and gain the alliance you seek. If you fail, then it is as well that this alliance does not come to pass.”

“You said contests. Who would be contesting with whom?” I asked, my mind reeling at this new possibility.

Jakoby shrugged. “An equal number of yours and those who would test you. His people.” Her eyes flicked to Malik.

“Where would these Battlegames be held? And when?” I asked.

“I do not see the point of playing games,” Brocade interpolated.

I did not take my eyes from the Sadorian woman.

“A trial of honor is fitting at such an impasse,” she said calmly, glancing at Brocade. “As to when and where, I offer Sador on behalf of my people. And whatever the conclusion of the Battlegames, the occasion may well be used to decide our own final strategy in dealing with the Council and its soldierguards.”

That rendered all of them silent and thoughtful.

After a long minute, Malik nodded, his eyes glittering with triumph. Perhaps he was seeing that, as a victor of this mock battle, he would naturally assume leadership of the
rebels. I had probably played right into his hands.

“Then it is agreed that your two peoples shall meet at the Battlegames and that the fate of the alliance between you shall rest upon the outcome?” Jakoby asked.

“Done,” Malik said savagely.

I stared at him helplessly, wanting to ask for time to think, yet knowing I must not hesitate. If I refused the contest now, Malik would win by default. Yet to agree without consulting the others went against everything that guildmerge stood for.

I thought of Malik’s eyes, filled with open hatred, and knew there would be no other way to get him to agree to an alliance. And so, truly, there was no choice after all.

“All right,” I said softly.

There was a momentary hiatus, then a babble of talk.

“I do not think fighting among ourselves is …,” Dardelan began.

“My master would agree that this is fair, I think …,” Gwynedd said.

“It solves one thing, certainly,” Cassell said musingly. “The need for us to meet together to plan the rebellion has been pressing for some time. Can it be organized for all of the rebel leaders to come to Sador?” Here he looked to Brydda.

Jaw clenched ominously, the big rebel nodded. “I will send birds out, and the groups who have their own will send replies by the morrow as to whether they will journey to Sador or be guided by those who will go and, in the latter case, whether they will assign their vote to another or go with the majority on decisions.”

“How long would such a journey take?” Cassell asked. “I do not like the idea of being away from the Land for too many days.”

“Isn’t Sador very far and the road to it dangerously close to the Blacklands?” Brocade asked.

“By road it is far, but by sea it is two or three days only,” Jakoby said.

“By sea!” Dardelan murmured, his eyes wide.

“We should think about this,” Brydda cautioned.

“I have thought it through, and it seems to me that this is a good idea,” Elii said decisively. “I have no love for sea travel, but it is a journey of two days that we talk of. If these Misfits beat Malik at this contest, it is worth whatever the bother afterward to let them stand with us. If they fail, then it does not matter. More importantly, to my mind, we will be able to organize the rebellion once and for all.”

The others nodded at this blunt pronouncement with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Well, then, it seems we are to journey to Sador together—let us hope the ship does not sink, or the rebellion will be scuttled before it begins. At least this mock battle should be amusing,” Cassell said, as if I had volunteered to bring a troop of clowns or tumblers to perform for them.

“What is to keep Sador from treachery when we are all in their hands?” Brocade asked querulously.

Jakoby gave him a look of scathing violence. “Were you not a barbarian, I would cut your tongue out for that insult,” she hissed. “Sadorians do not betray allies.”

Brocade stared up at her like a stunned rabbit.

“You do not have any honor,” she said, leaning toward him like a snake readying to strike. “Yet you understand fear too well, for I think you are old friends.” She stared into his eyes, and he grew so pale I wondered that he had not fainted.

At last she withdrew a fraction.

“You have no reason to fear, for since we of the plains desire none of your squalid little Land, there would be no point in our hostaging or slaying those of you who would choose to come.” Her eyes flicked contemptuously around the room, finally coming to settle with less fury on Brydda. Then she frowned, seeming to have some unexpected thought.

“It comes to me that I am at fault in this,” she said at last. Her voice was calmer now, but colder than the sound of the Brildane howling in the icy wastes of the highest mountains. “I should not have expected you to recognize honor. As a token of faith that you will understand, I will leave my own daughter in this city, and I shall not come for her until you are returned from Sador. Is this acceptable?”

Dardelan stepped forward and bowed to the Sadorian chief. “Lady, I need no proof of your goodwill. But I offer my father’s house where your daughter may stay in fitting comfort. She will be guarded as carefully as if she were my own sister,” he said earnestly.

I blinked back sudden tears; this was the sort of romantic gesture Matthew would have made under the circumstances.

The cold light in Jakoby’s eyes softened. “I think you will find a daughter of Sador does not need much protecting.”

Dardelan bowed. “I will speak with my father, and preparations will be made at once.”

“So it begins,” Gwynedd said, and there was a curious finality in his voice.

“I am ready,” Malik said; then he laid his head back and laughed wolfishly.

Brydda closed his eyes and sank into a chair.

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