The King's Blood

was dark except for the squire’s candle. Dawson sat up on his cot and shook his head.
    “ ’S happened?” he asked. “Is it a fire? Are the bastards coming? What?”
    “A courier, my lord. From the Lord Regent.”
    Dawson was on his feet. The night was cool but not cold. He shrugged on his cloak and stepped out. The cookfires had for the most part burned out, and the night around him was dark. The thin sliver of moon and the scattering of stars couldn’t outshine his candle. The courier stood beside his horse, satchel in hand. Dawson took the letter, checked the seal and the knotting to be sure it was authentic, and then ripped out the threads. The contents were ciphered.
    “Wait here,” Dawson said to the courier, and then to his squire. “Bring more light. Do it now.”
    It took an hour to decipher the text, and Dawson’s belly grew thicker and heavier with every word he uncovered. The matter was clear. It was the considered decision of the Lord Regent that the crimes against Antea were too grave and threatened the safety and sovereignty of Imperial Antea as a whole. For this reason, Lord Regent Geder Palliako, in the name of Aster, King of Antea, claimed rights to Asteril-hold and all the lands and holdings owing fealty to it. The Lord Marshal was instructed to gather together every man, woman, and child of noble birth in Asterilhold, seize and confiscate all lands and holdings, and put them all to death in as painless and humane a manner as was convenient.
    Dawson sat in the darkness, bloodless. He read the words over again. Every man, woman, and child of noble blood in Asterilhold. Palliako’s bloody thumb smeared the bottom of the page. His seal was on the wax. It was an order, given by the regent to whom he had sworn loyalty. True, the regent was Geder Palliako. True, the order was bloody-minded and cruel. But honor that was conditional was not honor; loyalty offered when he agreed and rescinded when he did not was not loyalty. Dawson sat by himself in the darkened tent, the flames of his candles the only light. He ran his hand across the pages, his throat thick. His hands were trembling.
    Honor demanded. It required .
    And then, as if coming before him in a dream, he saw Palliako look to his pet cultist, and the cultist nod.
     
My Lord Regent,
I am pleased to bring you happy news. This after-noon, I have accepted the surrender of Asterilhold and all holdings owing fealty to it. King Lechan is under my immediate control, and through his body, all those who swear loyalty to him.
As part of the terms of surrender and in accordance with tradition, I have accepted King Lechan, and through him all the noble persons and houses of Asterilhold, into my protection. I am devastated that your most recent instructions as to the terms of surrender reached me when the agreement had already been made. I feel certain that the respect and reverence we both have for the honor of the empire will compel you as it does me to respect the word as I have given it in your name, and Prince Aster’s.
     
    Dawson took a small silver blade, pressing it to his thumb until a drop of blood appeared, and then pressed it into the thirsty paper. He sewed the letter closed himself, melted the wax, and pressed his seal into it. He felt the hours of the night slipping by him, and he trotted out to the sounds of the first birds. There was no light in the east, no sign of the dawn apart from the bright and cheerful birdsong. He pressed the letter into the courier’s hand.
    “Take this back. Give it to no one but the Lord Regent. No one else, you understand? Even if his priest swears he will deliver it at once, you put this in the regent’s hands, yes?”
    “Yes, Lord Marshal,” the boy said, and was gone.
    Dawson stood for a moment, listening to the hoofbeats, soft against the mud and patchy grass, grow softer. And then the distant tapping when they reached the eternally solid jade. There was still time. He could send a fresh rider after the boy on a fast horse. Dawson had set this thing in motion, but he could still take it back. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, the cool air filling him and then seeping away. He waited for his heart to feel some misgiving.
    He found his squire dozing and shook him awake.
    “Listen to me,” Dawson said. “Wake up and listen to me, you little bastard. You go and find the flag of parley. Take it out to the city. And take someone with you to carry it if someone gets excited and puts an