Eustin was silent. Balasar looked at him, and the man's face was dark.
The general felt his mouth curled in a deep frown.
"Say it," Balasar said.
"I think you're wrong, sir."
Balasar took Eustin's elbow and angled off from the street under a
covered stone archway. A girl stood there, a cart of green winter apples
at her feet, looking out at the gray-white rain and the foul, brown
brook at the edge of the street. Balasar scooped up two of the apples
and tossed the girl a wide copper coin before finding a low bench and
nodding for Eustin to sit.
He handed his captain one of the apples and said, "Make your case."
Eustin shrugged, bit the apple, and chewed thoughtfully for a long
moment. A glance at the apple seller, and then he spoke, his voice so
low it was nearly inaudible over the clatter of the storm.
"First off, we haven't got so much gold we can afford to spend all of it
here. Having the men hungry, well, that's one thing. But five legions is
a lot of men. And there's no cause for this, not really. Any of the
other men did the thing, you'd take it out of their skins. And they know
it."
"I half think you're sweet on the girl," Balasar said.
"I've got a certain respect for her," Eustin said with a grin, but then
sobered. "The thing is, you're not treating him like he was long-term,
if you see. The story for the High Council is that once we've settled
the Khaiem out, our man Riaan's to hook these andat to our yoke. Tell
the Lord Convocate otherwise, and it would be someone else leading this.
But if that's true, Riaan's going to be around for the rest of your life
and mine, and a damned important man at that. All apologies, but you're
dancing to his tune like you're hoping he'll kiss you."
Balasar tossed the apple from hand to hand and waited for the flush of
anger to recede.
"I need the man," Balasar said. "If I have to how and scrape for a time-"
"That's just it, though. For a time. None of the men are used to seeing
you drink piss and smile. They're waiting to see you crack, to see you
put him in his place. It keeps not happening, and they're wondering why.
Wondering how you can stand the idea of a life licking that little
prick's boot. Time will come they'll understand you aren't thinking of
him in the long term."
Balasar needed a moment to think that through. He hit the apple; it was
tart and chalky and squeaked against his teeth. He tossed the rest of it
out into the street where the rain took it rolling downhill, white flesh
and green skin in the dark water.
"I)o you think Riaan suspects?" Balasar asked at length.
Eustin snorted. "He can't believe the tide would go out so long as he
was on the beach. The waves all love him too much to leave. But the men,
sir. They'll figure you're planning to kill him. And if they do, they
may slip."
Balasar nodded. Eustin was right. He was acting differently than he
would have had Riaan been a problem with a future. It hadn't been
difficult to let the Councilmen in Acton blind themselves to the poet's