The Tyrant's Law (Dagger and the Coin)

tricked. He’d been made fun of. All of the signs and signals between the men had been figments of his fevered imagination. Somewhere, the true author of the letters was laughing.
    With a sense of dread, he held out the letter that pretended to come from Ternigan.
    “Lord Ternigan, did you write this letter?”
    “No, Lord Regent,” Ternigan said, his voice calm and vaguely pitying.
    Basrahip shook his head. No. That was not true. Geder took in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly. The anger felt like relief. Like being saved.
    “Say that again,” Geder said. “Tell me that you didn’t write that letter.”
    Ternigan’s eyes fluttered and he glanced at Mecilli.
    “I misspoke, Lord Regent. I did write that letter, but not for the reasons it might seem. My intention was to discover whether any such conspiracy actually existed.”
    Basrahip scowled, and Geder understood the problem.
    “One question at time, Lord Marshal. Did you write this letter?”
    “I did.”
    “Did you write it in hopes of taking the regency for yourself.”
    “No,” Ternigan said. “Never that.”
    The faintest ghost of a smile touched the corners of Basrahip’s mouth. He shook his head. No, that was not true. Geder’s anger came back in its full glory now. He smiled.
    “Lord Ternigan? Do you think I’m stupid?”
    “No.”
    “Do you think you can lie to me?”
    “I would never lie to you,” Ternigan said, and tried to take a step back, but Daskellin and one of the guardsmen were already in the space. Ternigan turned, looking for a path through the men to the door. Or a wall that could be pushed through. Escape.
    “Have you called me a buffoon, my lord?”
    “No!” Ternigan cried, but it was beyond all doubt. Geder spat on Ternigan’s feet. Here was the great Lord Ternigan, war hero of Antea, cowering like a child before his angry father. Here was the man who’d thought Geder was laughable and small and stupid enough that he could wrest the throne from him. That the instigator had falsely claimed to be Mecilli didn’t signify. Geder knew the truth of the betrayal from Ternigan’s own living voice. That was more than enough.
    “Lord Ternigan,” Geder said. “I am removing you from your position as Lord Marshal of Antea.”
    “Y-yes, my lord. As you wish it.”
    “Yes,” Geder said. “As I wish it. Lord Daskellin? Are you involved in a conspiracy against me?”
    “No, my lord.” It was true.
    “My lord Flor? Are you?”
    “No.” True.
    “Lord Emming? Are you involved in a conspiracy against me?”
    “I am not.” True.
    Geder cracked his knuckles.
    “My lords, I hereby name Lord Ternigan traitor against the Severed Throne and against my person as Lord Regent.”
    “No!” Ternigan cried. “You have been misled, Lord Palliako! This is a conspiracy against me !”
    “Guards, please escort the traitor outside.”
    Ternigan struggled, but he had no weapons and no one to take his side. The guardsmen hauled him roughly out of the tent and sent him sprawling in the mud outside. Geder walked after him, the warmth of certainty and fury making him twice his height. His fists clenched and unclenched. The others came out behind him, one by one, until everyone from the tent stood in a rough circle. The guards hauled Ternigan to his knees.
    “I demand a trial,” Ternigan said through a mouthful of mud. “I demand trial by combat. God knows I am innocent.”
    “No,” Geder said. “He doesn’t. Captain. Your men should draw blades now.”
    The captain gave the order, and the sound of a dozen swords clearing their sheaths filled the air. The sunlight glimmered on bare metal.
    “This,” Ternigan said. “This is an injustice.”
    “No. It isn’t,” Geder said. And then, “So. Who’s the buffoon now?”
    Ternigan died quickly, the last of his blood spilling into the muck outside his tent. Geder watched him die with a sense of growing satisfaction. He wasn’t going to vomit this time. He was going to maintain his dignity. All around him, Lord Ternigan’s men stood slack-jawed and shocked. The wind made a soft whuffling sound like the noise of sails on a ship.
    Canl Daskellin was the first to speak.
    “There will need to be a new Lord Marshal. And quickly. The men are going to be disheartened by … by Lord Ternigan’s duplicity.”
    “He was corrupted,” Basrahip said. “Turned against you, Prince Geder.”
    “The Timzinae,” Geder said. “It’s their desperation.”
    “As you say, Prince