Vale stood on the walls as the skies darkened with dragons. After thirty years in the Adamantine Guard, the sight of so many still made his heart trip. He'd never seen them in such numbers before, even when all the kings and queens had come together at the passing of Iyanza to name Hyram as the next speaker. They flew in from the west and circled over the palace and then began to land around the edges of the Mirror Lakes. The speaker's eyrie was already full, but that didn't seem to trouble them. They'd brought their own, he slowly realised. Everything they needed. The excitement inside him felt strange and he wondered what was stirring him so. Later, as the skies cleared and the first riders walked their dragons to the palace gates, he understood. Thirty years in the Guard. He'd seen kings and queens and speakers come and go, but in all that time the King of the Crags had never come out of his mountains to the palace. It made you wonder why this time was so special.
Apparently we nearly went to war this morning. All very exciting. I do hope there weren't any accidents.'
Vale jumped and gritted his teeth. Prince Jehal had somehow crept up behind him.
'Mind you, I suppose we're still not quite sure, eh? My father used to tell stories about the King of the Crags. Back when he could still string a sentence together of course. Back when I was a little boy.'
Vale bowed and said nothing. Why are you telling me these things? Do you think that we shall somehow pretend that we are friends?
Jehal was still talking and it didn't seem to matter to him whether Vale was listening. 'All sorts of stories. They say the Mountain King has more dragons than any two kings or queens together. Is it true, Night Watchman. Did you count them?'
'I did not. Your Highness, but it will be done. I would say some three hundred and fifty beasts, but there are men in the Guard with better eyes than mine.'
'Three hundred and fifty! Ancestors! My father wasn't making it up then.'
What do you want from me? Again Vale held his tongue. The answer was obvious – Jehal wanted to know whether he would betray the speaker. Well you'll get nothing from me now. We'll see about that soon enough.
'I wonder if that means that the rest of it's true too.' A procession of dragons was walking up from the Mirror Lakes. Twenty war-dragons each with four riders on their backs. Three scorpions mounted on each saddle. Vale frowned at that. It was unusual to see three. Most eyrie-masters don't mount a scorpion on the nape of the neck like that. Too many accidents when a rider tries to shoot at an enemy straight ahead of him.
Jehal seemed oblivious. 'My father used to tell tales of mischief,' he said. 'He used to say that there was another race of people who lived in the mountains. Little people, short, who stood no higher than the pit of your arm. With mean spirits filled with wickedness. Said they served the King of the Crags and that he would send them out to sow the seeds of discontent and rebellion among the good men and women of the realms.'
And why bother when there are teeth and claws and fire that serve the same purpose with a great deal more effect? Or when we have the likes of you among us? Vale said nothing.
'He said they moved among us, unseen but there nonetheless.'
For a moment Vale couldn't resist. 'The first Valmeyan fought against Vishmir in the War of Thorns. It is said among the Guard that he ran circles around even your Prince Lai. After Anzuine executed Speaker Voian, Valmeyan abandoned him and flew to the mountains, taking half the dragons from the Pinnacles with him. He took his own alchemists. No one knew where he was.'
Jehal chuckled. 'The Great Dragon Hunt. Yes, I know all about that. Though I don't think he had much love for his speakers. No, I'd say what he did had a lot more to do with Anzuine and you Adamantine Men sacking the Silver City. Not a clever thing to do, burning the home of your foremost dragon-marshal. But I take your meaning. It is true that we of the south have little love for the mountain men. My father would say that all bad things have their birth within the caves and tunnels of the Worldspine.'
'The potions that control your dragons have their origins there, Your Highness,' murmured Vale.
'You have me again, Night Watchman. Good things have their birth there as well, I dare say.'
'The Great Flame tells us two things: all that brought order to the world came from the Worldspine long ago; and all that will render the world unto ash will come from there also.'
The prince made a face. 'Don't tell me you listen to that priestly rubbish.'
'I may have forsaken love and a long life, Prince Jehal, but I have not forsaken faith. The Flame burns brightly among the Adamantine Men.' He spoke mildly, hiding the disgust he felt. Were you not a prince I would reach out and with one hand I would crush your throat and snap your spine. He had a flashing vision of ramming his fist right down Jehal's throat and tearing his tongue out by the roots. It was deeply satisfying.
'I didn't know that,' said the Viper softly. 'I will remember in future. I'm sorry if I offended you, Night Watchman.'
Vale kept his face blank. 'There is no offence, Your Highness.' You indolent, faithless piece of shit.
'Good. Then shall we see what the Worldspine has vomited up for us this time?' Jehal laughed. 'The King of the Crags draws near. And amid the pleasure of our conversation I seem to have quite forgotten my errand. The speaker has called for you at once. You are to greet the king on her behalf and escort him to the council of kings and queens. He is late, after all, and they're all waiting for him. You might mention that to him.'
For a moment the iron control that held Vale Tassan together creaked and shifted. His face blanched. 'I am to greet the King of the Crags?'
'The speaker is the speaker, and Valmeyan, for all his airs, is still a mere king and must bend his knee to her. She could not possibly come to him.' Jehal smiled a happy smile. 'Of course, if you are daunted, I will be happy to take your place.'
Oh I don't think so slippery one. 'I am honoured, Your Highness, and flattered. I will do as I am commanded, as all Adamantine Men have always done. You may tell the speaker and the council if you wish.'
Jehal's smile didn't change. 'I think the idea is that you do this with a few thousand of your Adamantine Men lined up at your back. A show of the speaker's strength, if you like, to counter Valmeyan's predictably portentous arrival.' He glanced down. 'I would say you have a few minutes yet before his dragons reach the gates. I do hope that's enough.'
Here came that flashing vision again, except this time Vale simply saw himself smashing every last one of the Viper's teeth as well. Oh, how I look forward to the day when I can cut that condescending grin off your lips. His eyes narrowed in concentration. A few minutes to call four legions or more of men down from the walls and into formation. We can only thank the Flame that the Dragon Gates are already manned and prepared… Jehal didn't even move. Just stood, hands clasped behind his back, watching and smiling. Grinning like a snake. Fine. Then see why we are feared as we are. He whistled. Loudly. Loudly enough to see Jehal flinch, which was at least some small consolation. Across the walls, his soldiers turned to look, waiting for his orders. He made three clear gestures. All legions. Guard of honour. Immediately. Then he pointed down at the gates. The soldiers with him on the walls didn't need any telling. They were already sprinting to the nearest legion commanders in case they hadn't seen the signal. Stupid, stripping the walls for a mere ceremony with so many dragons camped around the palace. Surely a single legion would have done? He wondered then whether Jehal had exaggerated, or even made up the speaker's order on some whim of his own. He didn't think so. It had all the usual thoughtlessness he'd come to expect from Speaker Zafir.
It's not my place to question such things. All across the palace walls he could see his order take effect. Soldiers were leaving their posts and streaming down ladders and stairs.
'It's very impressive.' Jehal was still grinning. 'They're very attentive to you, Night Watchman.'
'We obey without hesitation or question, Your Highness. That is our way. All of us. Such obedience is necessary to survive when the enemy breathes fire.' Jehal was in the way. Vale almost had to push past him to get off the tower and down the steps into the vast space of the Gateyard. By the time he got there, hundreds of soldiers were already massing into orderly ranks, each man knowing exactly his place within his own legion. With a few curt snaps of his hands he made small adjustments to the legion positions as they continued to form. He almost didn't notice that Jehal had followed him.
'It's like watching a master puppeteer at his work. Or a wizard. Does it not leave a mark on you, Night Watchman, to wield such power with a simple wave of your hands?'
If I was a wizard then I would wave my hands and flick you away as if brushing a fleck of shit from my sleeve. Vale bowed. 'This is the power of the speaker, Your Highness. Not mine.' And I don't have the time to have some mongrel prince dancing at my heels. 'All is well in hand. Please do not allow me to deter you from your business. If it pleases you, you may tell the speaker that the honour guard will be ready. I will have the gates opened for King Valmeyan as he approaches.'
Prince Jehal pursed his lips and took a sharp breath. 'Pithy, Night Watchman. You mean surely there is something more useful I should be doing, and please could I get out of your way.'
'Not at all, Your Highness.' Although if you're in an obliging frame of mind, perhaps you could cut yourself on your own tongue and choke to death on your own blood. It would be an inconvenience to clear up such a mess but I dare say it could be done in time. Vale marched briskly towards the gates. Still Jehal stayed with him, raising an eyebrow in his wake.
'Well, if I'm truly not distracting you from your duties, the truth is that I have none of my own and my curiosity compels me to remain. I would see the face of this King of the Crags for myself.'
'It will be the same face in the council of kings and queens, I don't doubt.' Vale clenched his teeth. There, see. Now you've made me show my impatience with you. Is that what you wanted? Can you take your little victory and go away now?
'Doubtless it will. But as I'm sure you are aware, Night Watchman, I am not yet a king, and thus my presence is not re-quired. I am not sure I shall go.'
'My own opinions are worthless and insignificant but I have noted that Speaker Zafir seems to value yours, Your Highness.' Vale waved his hands again, shilling the front legions apart. They would need more space to allow Valmeyan's dragons to pass between them. Then he snapped a hand towards the immense gates, which immediately began to open. Outside, King Valmeyan's dragons were less than a hundred yards from the palace. He fought back the urge to look over his shoulder, to make sure that his legions were perfect. Of course they were perfect.
Inch by inch the gates ground open, a hundred men pulling on each of them. Vale walked forward and stopped inside their shadow. The first of the dragons stepped into the space in front of him, seeming to squeeze itself down to fit beneath the colossal Gatehouse arch. It stopped, its head a few feet away from his own. He smelled its breath, hot and rank. The creature had golden eyes as large as his head, teeth as long as his leg, a head the size of a horse and a body as big as a barn. A true monster, as large a war-dragon as he'd ever seen. The sort of creature that could smash down even the mighty Gatehouse towers simply by crashing into them. It made him tiny, and as it lowered its head to look at him, it sniffed and its lips twitched, as if to remind him that a dragon this size was always, always hungry.
And here, Vale knew, was his strength, the strength of every man behind him. For where any normal man would be shaking and quaking and pissing his pants, he stood still, solid and unmoved. He looked for the fear that any normal man should feel in the presence of such a monster and found nothing. Nothing at all.
The rider mounted on the war-dragon's neck took off his helm. Prince Tichane. Valmeyan's second son and ambassador to the palace.
'King Valmeyan,' roared Tichane. 'The King of the Crags answers the speaker's call.'
You should be begging to enter, as every other king begged to enter. And it was not a call but a summons. Vale bowed. Jehal was still beside him. And he wasn't shaking and quaking and pissing his pants either. 'The speaker welcomes you and bids you and yours to enter, under the ancient laws of hospitality,' Vale cried. He was about to move aside to let Tichane and his monster pass into the Gateyard, but suddenly Jehal had a hand on his shoulder.
'You may pass, Prince Tichane,' shouted Jehal. 'You and all those behind you. But no dragons save those of the speaker may enter the grounds of the Adamantine Palace. You should know that.' There was a very long silence.
'You did bring enough riders with you to walk all those poor beasts back to wherever they came from, I hope?'
Vale kept his face still. It was as well, he decided, that he'd had such extensive practice.
'You're also late,' said Jehal, loudly enough to carry well past Tichane to the riders behind him. 'The council convened at dawn. If you're lucky, they'll have waited. It would be a shame for such a grand entrance to be so utterly wasted.'
For long seconds, Prince Tichane didn't move. Then the dragon lowered its head even more, so that it touched the ground. Tichane opened the buckles on his harness and slid down to the ground. He ignored Vale and walked up to Jehal. Back outside the palace, other riders were dismounting.
'You're a rude nasty fellow this morning,' he said. Jehal gave him a florid bow.
'Be careful what you say, Tichane. You'll be calling me Your Holiness before you leave.'
'So I hear. So you are the speaker's mouthpiece today, Jehal. I suppose I should not be surprised. My father will be disappointed that she isn't here to greet him.'
Jehal replied with a sad shake of his head. 'If King Valmeyan wishes to set himself up as Zafir's equal, I'm afraid this disappointment will be the first of many. You may find yourself wishing you hadn't come.'
Tichane snorted. 'Then I will not be alone. Are we to run, then, since we are late?'
'Oh, I dare say a brisk walk will suffice.'
They walked away together, in between the perfect legions of the Adamantine Men and towards the Chamber of Audience. On the outside, the damage from the Red Riders' attack had been made good. On the inside though, the chamber still bore the scars. Vale watched them go and waited. He wasn't here for princes, he was here for a king. He had to wait for the rest of the riders outside the palace to arrange themselves. One by one the dragons were turned and walked away. Tit banc's was the last. When it left, two columns of riders marched through the gates. Vale studied them closely as they advanced. The rider at their head wore the same armour as the rest of them but he had an aura that Vale knew well. He was old for a rider too.
As they drew up in front of him, Vale bowed low, exactly as he would bow for any other king or queen. 'Your Holiness. The speaker welcomes you and bids you and yours to enter, under the ancient laws of hospitality They swept past him without a glance. Vale stayed exactly where he was until all the riders had gone. Then, with a gesture, he ordered the gates closed. As Valmeyan and his riders marched into the Chamber of Audience, he signalled his legions to return to the walls and their duties. Back where they should have been in the first place.
Most of them. A few he beckoned towards him. A dozen, that would be enough. They followed Valmeyan and quietly entered the chamber. The air inside smelled new, rich with fresh wood and paint. At the far end, Speaker Zafir sat with her kings. Valmeyan was standing before them. Further away stood riders from all the kings and queens assembled here, bearing witness to the words of the council, a company of them from every realm, even a few from the north. Jeiros and Aruch too, alchemists and priests clustered around them. Vale strode briskly among them, all the way to the speaker's table. All the way to the seat where Prince Jehal lounged insolently, sneering as the speaker and the King of the Crags exchanged their first ritual greeting in thirty years. Vale stood behind him. He gave himself a moment to savour what he was about to do.
'Prince Jehal.'
Jehal looked up. He didn't look troubled so he obviously had no idea what was coming. 'Night Watchman.'
There weren't many moments of pure joy in the brief life of a Night Watchman. That was something Vale had come to understand a long time ago, and so he took his time with this one. 'Prince Jehal,' he said again, lingering on every word, 'you are charged with conspiring to aid and abet the enemies of the realms. By order of the speaker, you are stripped of all titles and authorities.'
'What?' Jehal half rose out of his chair. Vale put a heavy hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down again. You can't begin to imagine how satisfying this is.
'You will be taken to the Tower of Dusk. There you will stay for the remainder of your days, awaiting the speaker's sentence.' At a gesture, four of Vale's soldiers seized Jehal and dragged him out of his chair.
'Zafir!' he shouted, but the speaker's face was cold. She didn't even glance at him. 'Night Watchman, unhand me! I am quite capable of walking. I am hardly likely to escape.'
Vale didn't look at him. He lowered his voice so that only Jehal would hear. 'True enough. And I will admit to being impressed that you didn't even flinch in front of Prince Tichane's monster. But still, all things considered, I think I prefer to have you dragged, Your Highness.'
The Gateyard outside was clear. His legions were already back on the walls and the towers. Vale took a moment to look around him.
A good day's work and we're hardly even started. He already had a heavy sword sharpened up for Queen Shezira's head. It could easily take another. One could always hope.