“Is that true?” Sikar asked.
“I—I was told that something—”
“A Rhune killed Gryndal, and you didn’t tell us?”
“And Gryndal wasn’t unconscious at the time,” Nyphron said. “If that’s not enough, then know that I myself have fought the Rhunes, and in Rhen I was nearly killed in a one-on-one battle. Only the timely intervention of Sebek saved me.” He paused and looked at Sebek, who nodded.
This brought even greater expressions of shock to those gathered.
“Then you have lost your skill,” Petragar said as he shoved past the remaining shields to join Sikar. The lord of the Rhist shouted in frustration. “Draw your weapon and take them into the duryngon, or kill them where they stand. But do it now or you’ll be accused of defying the fane and will be prosecuted as one of them.”
Sikar recoiled from Petragar’s rant. He made a miserable face, then sighed and reached for his weapon.
“You don’t want to do that,” Tekchin said.
“Shut up.” Sikar pulled his sword as if it weighed more than Grygor. “For once, can’t you just shut up?”
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Nyphron told Sikar. “But this time Tekchin’s right. Put the sword away.”
“I can’t.” Sikar shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come back.”
Sikar was a good soldier, which meant he was no free thinker. He was a strong pair of arms for whoever pulled the strings, and at that moment the puppet master was Petragar.
Time to snip those cords.
“Before you order my friends to kill us…” He spoke slowly, clearly, and loudly as he unrolled the ruddy-red face of the flag. “Let me show you one more thing that you might not have noticed.”
“There is no need for your theatrics. We’ve already seen the ragged band of Rhunes you traveled with,” Sikar said.
“You saw only the ones I wanted you to know about,” Nyphron spoke to Sikar. “Let me introduce the ones I didn’t.”
Nyphron waved the flag over his head.
In the distance, horns replied.
Nyphron didn’t turn, didn’t need to. Everything that happened behind him was reflected in the wide-eyed faces of those before him. Even Sikar’s mouth opened. Petragar appeared as if he might faint.
“Seal the gate! Seal the gate!” Petragar cried.
“Wouldn’t do that, either.” Tekchin grinned.
“Once more, Tekchin defies the odds by being correct.” Nyphron stopped waving and lowered the flag. “What you are looking at are five thousand battle-hardened, Dherg-armed, Gula-Rhune warriors. And before you start thinking the walls of Alon Rhist will save you, consider this—we also have a Miralyith.”
“Miralyith?” Sikar and Petragar said together, and like an echo in a cavern, the word was repeated throughout the crowd.
“You know her as Arion, the tutor of the prince.”
“She was sent to arrest you,” Petragar said.
“Changed her mind. Even she recognizes that the fane has gone mad.”
“And the fane sent giants to punish her for that error in judgment.”
“A giant mistake.” Tekchin chuckled.
Nyphron smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, that didn’t work out so well for the giants. They’re dead now, and she’s working with us. So closing those gates won’t help. She’ll blow them open or simply tear down your walls.”
“You’re lying,” Petragar said.
Nyphron turned to the Galantians. “On your honor, speak the truth before your brethren and our Lord Ferrol. Is the Miralyith Arion, former tutor of the prince, in our company by her choice and assisting us in our endeavors?”
Together in one voice the Galantians replied, “Yes, by our honor.”
“You’re lying!” Petragar howled. “They’re all lying.”
Irritated beyond the ability to keep quiet, Elysan turned and faced him. “These are Galantians.”
“And they’re liars!” His voice was a shrill rattle.
“Don’t say that again,” Sikar said, setting his jaw so that his words were forced through his teeth.
“You don’t tell Lord Petragar what to do,” Vertumus spoke up. “Petragar is in command here.”
“That’s right,” Petragar said. “I am in charge. These…these Galantians are wanted heretics and traitors and are to be returned to Estramnadon, or, if they resist, they will be executed. This is the will of the fane.” He faced Sikar. “Do your duty.”
“The war is going to begin here,” Nyphron told Sikar. “I can’t allow this fortress to stand if it stands against me.”
“You can’t ask us to kill our own. Even if the fane is a poor choice to rule, Ferrol’s Law still stands.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything.” Nyphron began rolling the flag up again. “In fact, I want you to do absolutely nothing.”
This was the key to the lock that Nyphron inserted and prepared to turn. He could see the surprise and, more importantly, the eager interest in Sikar’s eyes. The soldier was trapped between duty and honor, desperate for a way out.
“Nothing? I don’t under—”
“I said arrest or kill him!” Petragar barked, causing Elysan to roll his eyes.
“I’m the leader of the Instarya,” Nyphron responded to Sikar, ignoring Petragar. “I don’t ask my people to do anything I am not willing to do myself. And I am not willing to break Ferrol’s Law. If I were, do you honestly think he’d still be alive?” Nyphron used the rolled flag to point at Petragar. “All I am asking is that you don’t get in the way. Just stay out of it. If you need to, simply report to the fane that you were overwhelmed, that you had no choice but to surrender to a vastly superior force certain to slaughter every last Fhrey in Alon Rhist, which I’m afraid is the truth of the matter. That’s why I brought them, why they’re here. The Rhunes are here to absolve you, to expunge any concerns about tarnishing your honor.”
Sikar narrowed his eyes. “What is your plan?”
“Stop listening to him!” Petragar gave Sikar a shove from behind, which anyone who knew Sikar even a little would recognize as a mistake. The captain of the guard brought his elbow around and slammed it into Petragar’s jaw. The Fhrey screamed, staggered, and fell. Without looking back, Sikar addressed Nyphron again. “How do you see this working?”